My just-turned three year old daughter and I were talking today.
Lauca: My vulva is poisonous.
Me: Whaaaaaaat?
(I’m trying not to panic, but where the hell did she pick up this misogynist notion?)
Lauca: No-one is allowed to touch my vulva, except me, because it’s private. It is poisonous.
Lauca has of course muddled two concepts we’ve been teaching her about; the concept of body sovereignty and the concept of bush-walking near poisonous plants. Both involve rules about touch.
Teaching my three year old how to avoid sexual violence feels like the ultimate head-game. How to prepare her for the worst manipulativeness possible without frightening her? How to alert her to danger without actually telling her about the danger? How to get her to recognise sexual abuse, when if it ever does come into her life it will likely appear as someone she thinks of as a friend or trusted relative? So I’m planting these concepts, laying these minefields in her psyche, hoping that if they’re ever called upon that they’ll detonate correctly in the face of trespass. That she’ll manage to stop the sexual assault somehow, or if not, that she’ll find the strength to tell her father or I about it afterwards so we can stop the assault from continuing.
Last year when I participated in Blog Against Sexual Violence Day I wrote about how ubiquitous sexual violence is for young women. I thought back on my youth and recorded all my near misses. It was a depressing process, particularly when I reflected upon raising a daughter. This year I struggled to think of a topic to post on for the event. Not because there is nothing left to say about sexual violence, but because there is too much. I chanced upon our conversation today and then wondered if using this light-hearted anecdote was inappropriate. But on this beautiful autumn day I was unable to find the mood for outrage. It is not that I am any less outraged by sexual violence, I’m not. I’m outraged, I’m full of rage, I’m sick of my rage, I want this threat to end already. I want women and men and children to be free of this atrocious crime of violence. I want the perpetrators of sexual violence to stop, finally stop.
If only Lauca was right, if only the vulva (or penis) was poisonous to the touch of an abuser.
Ohhh, now you’ve got me thinking about all sorts of cool defenses we might have if only we were cooler animals. Poisonous vulvas, vagina dentata that can be withdrawn at will, etc etc.
But unfortunately, all we have to protect oursekves is our intellect. I think you and your husband are doing a fantastic service to your daughter–would that more parents took the time to explain the concept of bodily soverignty to their children.
Thanks for this post. It’s a great addition the BASV day event. Your daughter’s words are a needed reminder that it takes more than stock warnings to educate children in a healthy way.
I’ve got a post in the works about this stuff, but in the meantime I’ve gotta say that “my vulva is poisonous” strikes me as a tremendously fierce thing for a three-year-old to say.
I agree with the commenters above! Lauca’s concept of bodily sovereignty is inspirational and tremendous. Well-done.
Thanks everyone, you’ve made me feel a lot more optimistic about my efforts at empowering my child to protect herself.
I just realized what “my vulva is poisonous” evokes for me — the myth of Medusa.
Casey was Medusa for Halloween last year, as you may remember, and she was fierce. I can see how you’d read the “poisonous” comment as internalized misogyny, but there’s something incredibly strong and potent about a young girl having the idea that her body — or, in the case of Medusa, her gaze — has the power to do fatal harm to people who might mess with her.
There’s a beauty in Medusa. If you think of her like Midas, as someone who can’t control her gift, then it’s a heartbreakingly sad kind of beauty. But if you imagine her as someone who can choose to set that terrible power aside — in her time, and on her terms — then it’s a breathtaking image of what we want our daughters to be.
There will come a moment when Casey will gaze fearlessly into the eyes of someone she loves, and discover the power of that gaze to enthrall. There will come a time when Lauca will revel in the pleasures of her body. But until that moment, how much better for Casey to imagine that others must avert their eyes in fear for their safety, rather than believing that must keep her own eyes fixed on the floor. How much better it is for Lauca to imagine that her vulva is too potent to be touched, rather than that it is too dirty, too shameful.
Brooklynite – I love, love, love your theory! And the way you wrote that last paragraph, beautiful.
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