Escape from the VulvaVerse

[shanmonster]

I entered a writing group Zoom call tonight. I signed up for it last night on a whim. It is a women's space, and although it seemed far more more femme than I am, I figured I'd give it a go. I've signed up for other sessions before which didn't sound right up my alley, and I ended up pleasantly surprised. So I spun that wheel and ended up in the VulvaVerse (not its real name).

The hostess greeted all new arrivals warmly and with a timbre to her voice which immediately raised my hackles. The more she spoke, the more my Spidey senses tingled. Something about the careful, practiced words she spoke seemed calculating. I've heard that diction before, from the lips of elders at the Kingdom Hall. I've heard them from the brothers and sisters at the Kingdom Hall when they were in God mode and speaking The Truth. I've heard that trained tone coming from my own lips, when I went from door to door as an ingenuous Jehovah's Witness kid trying to share salvation, but instead being a tool of religious colonization. I know that tone well, and I don't trust it for one minute.

And I don't know if you would trust it, either, unless you are part of the target demographic. If this were a scene in a folk horror movie, you would know that this sweet-voiced femme, with her emphasis upon the Divine Feminine, was gathering priestesses to worship the holy genitalia of mother earth. Either that, or it's an MLM selling stuff from Gwyneth Paltrow's Goop line.

I was in a chat room with a clutch of born-again vagina worshippers, and none of them knew I am not a gender essentialist.

Every time someone introduced themselves, we were instructed to hold our palms together, fingers facing upward. The symbolism of prayer position was not coincidental in this context. This is the sign of that Holiest of Holes, the ever blessed vagina.

I could feel my jaw tightening, my muscles tensing, and those moments before I would be expected to introduce myself drew ever closer. I was paralyzed by social expectations. Was I overreacting? Was it all in my head? Should I trust my instincts? I couldn't leave. It would be rude. I couldn't leave. It would be rude. I couldn't leave. It would be rude. I couldn't....

Fuck it.

Abort! Abort! Abort!

And I exited the chat room.

I feel much better now.

Comments

[valkryor]

Yeesh. People like that always leave a bad taste in my mouth. And leaving for health reasons is completely valid and not rude at all. You spun the wheel, took a chance, and then noped out of there. It might have seemed rude to them, but you aren't responsible for their feelings, only your own.

[clevermanka]

This is so tense. My brain was spinning a chant of get out get out get out get out. I'm so glad you did. I'm glad you feel better, now.