The Camera My Mother Gave Me

The Camera My Mother Gave Me by Susanna Kaysen
2001
Weight: 12 oz
Method of Disposal: Donating

I was a big Angelina Jolie fan when I was a teenager, and I had been battling my fair share of depression, so when Girl, Interrupted came out as a movie I was excited.  I also loved Winona Ryder.  From the movie, I went to the book and read it.  I was reading a lot of Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, and Elizabeth Wurtzel then.  I was also reading The Vagina Monologues, The Clitoral Truth, Clit Notes, The V Book,  and Cunt.  From there, I stumbled upon this book which seemed to be about Susanna Kaysen and Vaginas! I purchased it, and I read it, but I did not like it as a teenager.  

I was going to pass it on without reading it again, but I vaguely remembered being introduced to some kind of new disease or disorder.  I decided to give it another go, and I thought it was much better this time around, though I can see why I was frustrated back then.  I did not think it was genius even now.  It echoed Girl, Interrupted in its self-obsessed way, though how do you write a book like this without sounding that way?  I guess I am not sure.  

It seems like people who have vulvadynia are the biggest fans.  I have many a review thanking Susanna for making them feel less alone and that, alone, makes it a worthwhile book for reading.  I thought it was good for medical professionals to see what it might feel like to be a patient in that situations.  Though, it seems like the woman who was kindest to her and might have had something to offer at the biofeedback center was one of the "hated" medical professionals.  I thought she seemed great, but Susanna did not.  Of course, after all the sexual assault offered up by her boyfriend over the year she was trying to figure out her vagina, the resemblance of the building to the mental institution she spent 2 years of her life in, and the pain she experienced daily, I suppose she was allowed to be a little cranky.  

The boyfriend.  I hope he read this and wept.  He was terrible and all the times he pressured her into having sex, did not go to the doctor with her, tried to force her to use things like the Novocaine that she kept telling him hurt her worse than if she had sex without it made me so angry.  Susanna still seemed to be grappling with why it felt like rape, though she was scared to label it anything like that.  She likely knew what all women know--that the public would tear her to shreds.  I won't label anything for her, but what he did to her was wrong and it was painful.  He needs to know that.  Any man or woman in a similar position needs to know that.  If it not consent if she does not want to say yes.

The Clitoral Truth

The Clitoral Truth: The Secret World at Your Fingertips by Rebecca Chalker
2000
Weight: 1.2 lbs
Method of Disposal: Giving Away

It was the time of vagina books and clitoral love, and it was wonderful.  I was a sex-obsessed teenager, which seems gross now, but was SO awesome then.  I soaked it all up, and I think that it is because of books like these, lesbianism, and good parenting on my mother's part that I grew up with a healthy, adventurous, and fairly safe outlook about sex.

This book taught me that, not only does female ejaculation exist, but it is fun and exciting.  Nothing to worry about and many people really relish the possibilities.  I learned that men and women were not born all that different, and later it was not at all challenging to understand that not just gender but sex could be fluid.

I found out about On Our Backs and was able to enjoy it for several years before it stopped being made.  I learned about how important the clitoris is.  I was having sex before I got my hands on all these vagina books, but I truly believe the sex must have improved dramatically with the more I learned. 

It is hard to know what to do with these wonderful books.  I want them to go to good use, but I am not always sure how to get them into the right hands.

Clit Notes

Clit Notes: A Sapphic Sampler by Holly Hughes
1996
Weight: 10.4 oz
Method of Disposal: It is up for grabs if you want it, but I will be recycling it on Wed. if I cannot find any takers.
*Pictures are from one of my journals I wrote in from the same time period as my reading of this book*





I have been awful about updating this blog in the last couple weeks. I lost a dear friend—a beautiful shelter dog with an exceptional personality and have been unable to focus on much else. I am going to try to get it back on track here, and I appreciate anyone who is sticking with me.

Today, I am ridding myself of Clit Notes. I became obsessed with books about vaginas, clits, cunts, and all the variaous associated components when I was a teenager. The Vagina Monologues started it off and then I ran with it. I worked at a small bookstore, and I would search those words and order whichever books seemed to fit. I will never forget being called after I quit my job because my special order, Anal Pleasures had arrived. As you can probably already guess, we were an open-minded and close-knit group at that store and it was not overly strange that I ordered those books at work. I wanted to be a sexologist, and I got a discount on information there.

At the time, I thought the title Clit Notes was pretty fantastic and hilarious. I was very excited about it, and even more disappointed when I was finally able to read it. I hated it. I see that it has great reviews on Amazon, and Ms. Magazine has quite the quote on the back. Maybe I was too young and it went over my head, but I have no desire to return to it. I found other fantastic books like the Clitoral Truth , Woman: An Intimate Biography, and Tales From the Clit. Now, I feel differently about the whole thing. I still like a lot about all those books, but I do not like to focus on genitalia being what makes the woman. They all seem so gynocentric (which I hate now) and too exclusive. They would all do best in a home with someone who has an understanding of gender identity and the problems with gender and sex dichotomies. They would like to reside next to books about all sorts of bodies, and maybe even some books on pleasure and sexuality. Are you the right family for this homeless book? Please let me know before Wed.

"At First Women Were Reluctant to Talk"

The Vagina Monologues by Eve Ensler
2001
Weight: 9 oz.
Method of disposal: Attempting to give it away through a social networking site. If I cannot I will move on to plan B.




Today, I am parting with my copy of The Vagina Monologues, complete with the highlighting of the fifteen year old I was when I bought it. I saw it on a shelf in the drama section at Waldenbooks when I worked there, and I bought it because of the title. I read the book that same night and loved it. It started a sort of-affair. I went to see college productions of it on a regular basis throughout the years and one time I went with my friend Sarah to see it done by Eve Ensler herself. Later, I would volunteer at an event that hosted Ms. Ensler and Jane Fonda. A whole group of us took a picture I have never seen. I remember Eve Ensler’s hand on my shoulder. Even later, I would go to Charis with a very attractive queer preacher to see her talk about her publication, The Good Body. This is yet another time when I will be disbanding a book from a complete collection of all the books written by an author.
I use to be in awe of Eve Ensler. Can you tell? There has been a gradual letting go of that awe over the last six years and now I have a dull curiosity when I see her name in print. I will continue to read about her and her work. But I also think about that initial collection where a father buys his daughter a vagina—the only intersex narrative in the book—with dismay. She has spoken with students about it for years and compromises have been worked out, but it lingers in my copy and thousands of others. I think of Jakarta, Warsaw, Kenya, and other places where The Vagina Monologues has traveled and the mixture of emotions about it expressed in the feedback—the validity of the feelings of those who loved it and those who hated it. I love talking about sex, bodies, and sexuality. I also recoil from gynocentrism, and its effects on our beliefs about gender and sex as binary systems.
There is a lot good about Eve Ensler and about The Vagina Monologues, and I will never forget my initial love for it. It is time for me to move on now. Looking at my highlights, “My Angry Vagina” was my favorite piece in the collection when I first read it. In hindsight, it is hard to imagine growing up without it. I found this book at the perfect time. It did what, I think, it was intended to do. It helped me fall in love and/or maintain my love for my genitalia—though I do not think my vagina is the truly important component of my anatomy. It pales in comparison to my clitoris, my ears, my neck, and my back.