Set My Pussy Free!

Pussy. There, I said it. P-u-s-s-y.

It happens to be a word I love. Pussy. The way it rolls off the tongue from puckered lips and ends with a smile.

I happen to love my pussy. She brings me my greatest pleasures in life. Some of my favorite memories are painted within her folds.
She is the keeper of many mysteries. My pussy is the pathway to heaven and the gateway to life incarnate. She is powerful beyond even my comprehension, yet tender, soft and sweet.

I’ll always remember when I first learned the word pussy. I couldn’t have been but 4 or 5 years old. My sister, 2 years older than I, had learned it somewhere out in the world beyond our home. We were taking a bath together when she pointed to my pussy portal and spoke her name.

I instantly fell in love with the word. We giggled in delight.
We repeated the word over and over again… Pussy! Pussy! Pussy! Pussy! …until we were chanting, laughing, and splashing the water in pure joy. There was no touch, just an awakening to the awareness of my feminine form.

As the chanting and splashing grew to a giggling roar, our mom came crashing through the door. She was very upset; it turned out she hated the word. Apparently, as I learned in that moment, pussy was a bad word, one I should never speak. So I added it to the list of swear words I was not to say in front of adults, only other children.

As I grew older, the word pussy became even more derogatory, something in fact, to be ashamed of. It was what boys called each other as the quintessential insult to their manhood. “Don’t be a pussy.” A label of horrific ramifications. Weak. Pathetic. Puny. Powerless. Inadequate. Coward.

I no longer wanted to have or be a pussy, and the word lost its magic.

But even as guys would demean my pussy status, they seemed to be fairly preoccupied with chasing my pussy. Just as much as it was seen as frail and undesirable, it seemed to be a prize that was widely sought after.

It made no sense and left me quite conflicted. But what was clear, was that no one wanted to be seen as weak. Not men. Not women. Not children. No one.

It was the death of everything feminine for me. Instead of embracing my feminine prowess and power, I became “one of the guys” – hard, fierce and tough. So much so that when I was 14, I literally told people to “Suck my dick.” I didn’t care that I was a girl and had no penis to speak of. It was a short lived phase, the illusion broken by my best friend’s father who said, “Girl, if you have a dick, you better spit it out because it don’t belong to you.” That worked. I never said it again.

I did, however, still carry the hard edges, the refusal to be vulnerable, to be seen as weak, as tender, soft. I hated weak. Being from Detroit, I grew up with the phrase, “Detroit: where the weak are killed and eaten,” etched into my identity.

Now, eating pussy is a beautiful thing, but getting killed for it, no thanks. Though that is exactly what happened. I died inside, killing off any hint of feminine softness that I now revere. I wanted to prove that I was strong enough, that I wasn’t a pussy. I wasn’t a weak girl.

Still, every time I hear a man say, “Don’t be a pussy,” the part of me that makes me most beautiful, shrivels. This phrase, no doubt, beaten into the heads of young boys by sport coaches and adult men all across the nation. “Don’t be a pussy!” becomes a national anthem to “man up.”

It’s like using the word pussy is an easy way out of actually having to be thoughtful in how to positively impact a young man’s life.

Instead of shame, try encouragement. Cheer them on. Don’t just leave that to those who have pussies on the sidelines in skimpy outfits. Inspire them to believe in themselves, to stretch for excellence by developing their bodies and minds, because they are worthy and deserving of doing their best and giving their all. Isn’t that what coaches and adult male image-makers are supposed to do?

The scars of pussy belittling are incredibly deep, for both women and men. It’s time we embrace the pussy and see it for what it is: a tender, sweet, loving, beautiful, mysterious gift that gives life, pleasure, and perspective.

To every coach and man who thinks pussy is weak, I declare: “Set my pussy free!”

I am pussy. Hear me roar, and if I choose, I might let you make me purrrrrrr.