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Easter term is for celebrating vaginas

Don’t forget where your eggs come from

Easter is a time for celebrating eggs, rebirth and bunnies. But where do all of these things come from?

No, not Mainsburys. Vaginas. Yes, Easter is the vagina holiday. After all, Jesus emerged from a cavernous tomb when he was resurrected, and I’m no English student if I’m not going to spot a genital metaphor where none was intended.

Vaginas. They’re beautiful caverns of magic and mystery. I’m not gonna lie, we all wish they came with a map, but that only adds to the mystical charm of the lady garden.

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Like entering the minotaur's labyrinth, but with more gore.

So on this holiday of reverence for the Grandest Canyon, I had hoped to be able to celebrate with the gaping pit inside of me – and my vagina too – in peace. During an Easter party though, an aunt of mine recalled an incident at the school where she works, when she helped a girl who had got her period for the first time.

My uncle didn't like hearing this. His face paled. His jaw clenched. He tightened his hold upon his young daughter, shielding her from the corruptive forces of the meat muffin. Seeing his reaction, my aunt apologised and changed the subject. But she shouldn’t have had to.

In hindsight, it’s not just uptight family members who I’ve seen acting like this. I see this sort of thing all the time in Cambridge.

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I don't know what to put here but I'm quite hungry, so here, have a yonic treat.

Admit that your period made you ill enough to miss a deadline to a male supervisor, and they’ll cough until you change the subject. Bring up grooming tips at a party and you’ll be met with groans and gags from nearby boys. Men here just don’t tend to like it when you bring up the V word. What is it about the tampon tunnel that turns macho guys into blushing brides?

I know, it’s not like men walk around talking about their penises all the time – at least not in my hearing – so I’m not suggesting people with vaginas should do the same. And I’m not saying the new bra-burning should be bonfires of used sanitary products.

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This one looks like it has teeth. Wait, how did one of my nudes get in here?

My point is, though, that women and non-binary people don’t need yet another reason to feel insecure about their bodies. With parents and teachers who feel uncomfortable mentioning them, how could girls grow up to be any less afraid of their own growlers? It took half of my friends years before they could bring themselves to boldly go where no one had gone before, and explore their happy valleys.

The penis fly trap isn’t anything to be scared of. So men, if you stumble into a conversation about them, fear not. The conversation will turn back to something you’ll understand soon. Some of you could do with learning more about bearded clams, anyway. And people with vaginas, don’t be afraid of them. They’re something to be proud of.

Join me every Monday this term in The Periodical for more articles that would make your uncles uncomfortable. I promise I won’t just be writing about vaginas.