Vaginismus and the media
Written by Cassandra Tassios
Like all eager, anxious teenage girls, one of the most important things in my life was sex. And like all of us, I was lied to.
For one, I thought all my sexual partners would look like Zac Efron or Megan Fox and we would fall passionately in love and engage in romantic, passionate love-making on a bed covered in rose petals.
Somehow, there would be a flattering backlight involved and one single bead of sweat.
But what about the awkward or uncomfortable aspects that come along with the birds and the bees? And what happens when things don’t go to plan?
Painful penetrative sex isn’t something we are shown in mainstream media, so I had no idea how much pain was “a normal amount”, (hint: sex shouldn’t be painful), or if and when I should do something about it.
Conditions like vaginismus, which cause pain during any form of penetration, can affect up to 17 percent of people with vaginas. That’s more than three in every 20 vagina-owners.
Now, spend a moment thinking of all your favourite characters.
Why didn’t we see Buffy struggling to use a dilator? Why did we miss out on the Sex and the City episode where Miranda has to wear a pad at the beach because she can’t use a tampon?
Why were we deprived of seeing Blanche or Dorothy from The Golden Girls dislocate a hip while doing pelvic floor exercises? We were robbed!
We can’t be what we can’t see
Recently, mainstream media has sought to bridge the gap in representation of vaginal sexual dysfunction.
The season two finale of Sex Education marked the first time I ever saw vaginismus, in all its gritty and awkward glory, depicted on the small screen.
We meet Lily (Tanya Reynolds), a super-horny, space-obsessed high school student intent on having sex with her boyfriend for the first time before graduating. But Lily is “betrayed” by her vagina. It’s not a matter of desire, because Lily desperately wants to have sex. She feels disempowered, demoralised and alienated (no pun intended).
“It’s like my vagina has lockjaw,” she explains to her psuedo-sex-therapist classmate, Otis.
Similarly, the show Unorthodox also brought vaginismus to the masses.
Protagonist Esty finds herself in opposite circumstances to Sex Education’s Lily. Without any understanding of her body, sex, arousal and female pleasure, Esty’s sexual experiences are plagued by pain, fear and judgement. Rather than engage in sex with someone she loves, Esty’s community expects her to reproduce with the stranger she just wed.
Though dark and occasionally depressing, Unorthodox gives an insight into what can happen when people don’t receive a comprehensive and inclusive sex education.
For people with vaginismus, seeing a storyline that accurately portrays the condition in popular culture can be incredibly affirming and validating. Watching someone grapple with the same frustrations, troubles, and triumphs can help ease feelings of isolation.
Feeling comfortable enough to disclose the condition to loved ones isn’t easy, especially if you’re faced with the prospect of having to educate them about it too.
Seeing your struggles reflected in popular culture can also go a long way to reduce stigma and to raise awareness about such an under-funded and under-researched condition.
Vaginismus is real, it’s treatable and statistically, it also affects someone you know. So why are we concealing it under a cloak of silence?
We need to see it on our screens, we need to talk about it with our friends and we need to rant about it on Reddit.
The message is, you’re not alone.
Cassandra Tassios is a writer, a feminist and a former lifestyle journalist.
