@madalynm
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Something that stood out to me from the documentary was the inclusion and appreciation of a wide variety of vulva styles. When I was a teen and searching online for images of what vulvas were ‘supposed’ to look like there was a definite scarcity of anything that differed from the neat, hairless clamshell. Seeing a wider range of vulva styles, especially those with longer inner labia, and hearing them spoken about in a neutral or positive way serves as an antidote to that early messaging.
I felt a massive amount of resistance while watching the documentary- more than with any other piece of Bodysex related media and more than attending an in-person retreat. The first time I watched I kept pausing because I could only manage small doses. I think that the medium of film (where you’re observing the group rather than participating, and not even observing in person, but through a screen) invited my critical mind to take the reins. My attention would be drawn to what I considered an ‘unflattering’ camera angle, or an awkwardly phrased comment. I felt embarrassed about ‘what people would think’, questioned why it’s always women who have to be the ones who get naked and vulnerable on camera (when I posed this question to Carlin and she responded that maybe it’s because women have more to heal). I’ve always had the tendency to want to extract myself from any situation that felt vulnerable or undignified, and the documentary really pressed those buttons for me.
I don’t quite know how I’m going to address my resistance, but in general I think that the first step to working through resistance to anything is to try to recognise it as an attempt at self-protection. I feel like understanding the fear behind the critical mind, rather than waging war against it is the way forward.
When I first learned about Bodysex I was instantly intrigued. I anticipated my first workshop with a sense of excitement and adventure, and the experience itself proved to be a challenge that pushed at the frontiers of my personal growth. Bodysex has catalyzed change in my relationship with myself and with others. It was a bit like the emotional equivalent of skydiving (and also a lot of fun).
Through confronting and defying body and sex shame (body-sex shame?) and facilitating deep connection, support and information-sharing between women, Bodysex as a practice breaks down the isolation and taboo that freezes our growth in these areas. It’s a thawing-out that enables healing and celebration in a way that feels both spiritual and basic.
To me, Bodysex has also meant not feeling alone. It’s connected me, even from a distance, to a community of women who are willing to be real, vulnerable and brave. Seeing people willing to champion women’s right to sexual knowledge, freedom and pleasure has also been deeply reassuring and inspiring.
