Rule #5: "Vulva"
Body parts and what they can do is a topic, not a "Talk". Use the right words, early and often.
2012 Original
Teach her the correct names for her genitals, and use them matter-of-factly.
If she wants to say wee-wee, that’s fine, but make sure that as she grows up, she knows her vulva from her vagina. And whatever you do … don’t call it a front-butt.
2017 Update
Front-butt! I’d never heard that one until my co-author brought it up. It cracked me up then and still does. I’ve seen that word used a few other times since, but this was the first.
If you’ll humor me for a little front-butt tangent, I remember hypothesizing based on context that it was coined by a boy describing his Mommy, and hinted at a few details about what his Mommy’s looked like. If she had a full bush, or even any pubic hair on the front, it wouldn’t look like a “butt”. Second, since butts don’t have extra lips poking out between the cheeks, a childlike label of “front-butt” would suggest an innie, not an outie. When I hear “front-butt”, that corresponds to “shaved innie” in the vulvar taxonomy of my mind.1
I could be wrong about all that, but whatever the actual etymology, I have considered “front-butt” an endearing alternative to “vulva” ever since my co-author declared it out of bounds. Both my daughters have known they have vulvas – not just “vaginas” – from about the time they could talk, but I won’t tell either one they have a “front-butt” or “pussy” unless they start asking terminology questions. They can grow into those in their own time.
I have killed it on this rule – as in totally followed it, not as in struck it from the list. My girls were toddlers when we wrote this, by which time WAM and I2 had already taught them the word for their vulvas. For a long time, they pronounced it “bulba”. I still can’t hear the name of a Pokemon called “Bulbasaur” without picturing something very different.
Since we often bathed or showered together, they also learned “penis” early on.3 For several years, they didn’t show any curiosity about learning more detail or words for private parts than “vulva” and “penis”, even when asked if they were curious to learn more. They were probably first in their class to know “vulva” but after a while it got to the point I felt like I really needed to explain “vagina” so they wouldn’t be confused or feel like the last to know about something important.
This past week, the curiosity door was finally ready to be opened.4 T2 was watching that Teacher Of All Things – YouTube – and asked me from across the room, “What’s a condiment?”
“It’s like ketchup or mustard or other things you put on a burger or hot dog.”
“No! A condomimm, like this,” she said, pointing to a paused video.
There really was a condom in the video, but to my relief, she was watching a “life hack” video, not something sexual. The hack involved using a condom to remove a stuck wedding ring from a finger.
At 8 1/2, the girls are old enough that there’s a real possibility they’ve had scattered bits of sex knowledge relayed by peers, so I wasn’t sure what she knew. I didn’t mind answering, but wanted to tailor my answer to what she already knew (or thought she knew). As far as I could tell from her answer, I was working with a blank slate.
I explained matter-of-factly where a condom was designed to go, which of course meant explaining that penises get hard when they feel really good. That led to follow-up questions and pretty soon we were having our first really detailed conversation about sex and babies being made. That in turn led her to ask if they were made that way.
For most parents, this is when they get to say “Yup!” with a sly grin. Ours were conceived through a less traditional route, though, so this was when I suggested we go get Mommy and T1 in on the conversation. After confirming with Mommy that she was ready to have this conversation, too, we proceeded with our version of a family conversation, which is about 20% talking, 20% listening, and 60% interrupting.
We talked eggs, sperm, uterus, fallopian tubes, erection, ovaries, testicles, grown-ups who really want to have sex together, ejaculation, semen, fertility shots (the syringe kind), donors, microscopes, blastocysts, transfers, and more.
So far I’m very much on track with my intention to be direct, correct, and matter-of-fact with my daughters about their bodies and sex. I expect it to get harder and more awkward as they enter adolescence, but so far, so good.
The most awkward part to me was while I was talking alone with T2 and she brought up “vibrators”. That both did and didn’t mean what it sounds like. There was no sign that she had any concept of a “sex toy” or the specific kind usually referred to as “vibrators”, but she has had toys that vibrate - like the base of a fiber optic lamp - and she clearly indicated that she liked how it felt when she held them by her privates.
If she’d described a phallic vibrator or talked about sticking things inside herself, I’d have adjusted my approach, but since she was talking about holding things that buzz against her outside parts, I acknowledged that people often like to make themselves feel good that way. I further explained that touching privates like that is a private thing, not something to do around other people, including Mommy and Daddy. In fact, if anybody ever tried to do that in front of her or asked her to, she should say no and tell us. I don’t know how much of that sank in (it’s hard to tell no matter what the topic is), but that’s what I tried to convey.
2022 Update
Five years ago, I wrote about front-butt, “I could be wrong about all that, but whatever the actual etymology…”
It appears I was wrong about all that. I have since googled the word and determined it’s slang for someone who has so much excess belly in the front that it hangs over and looks like a second butt. While that brings clarity to what it means to some people, it only confuses me more how it ended up in a rule about words for vulvas. Did one of my co-author’s boys coin the word independently? Did she consult a different slang dictionary? I guess I’ll never know.
Generalizing this rule from “what to call her vulva” to “teaching her about reproductive anatomy”, I continue to give us high marks. My wife and I are on the same page, but I’m the one who bought a plushie uterus and 3-D printed clitoris on Etsy, along with some other teaching aids you won’t find in schools.
Teaching kids about sex has long been characterized as “The Talk”.5 I’ve never liked that framing and indeed, we’ve treated bodies and sex as subjects to discuss matter-of-factly at many different points in development, not one big awkward conversation to save up for the onset of puberty.
With and without visual aids, we’ve had many conversations to convey more details and knowledge, we’ve prepared them for menstruation as best we can, and even non-judgmentally facilitated masturbation.
I am certain that “facilitated masturbation”, stripped of all context, could be twisted to mean disturbing things, but there’s nothing creepy or inappropriate going on. All I mean is that we’re aware they’ve discovered self-pleasure, they know it is private but not shameful, and when one got up the nerve to ask Mom for lube, we ordered a bottle to call her own.
I am not grossed out or mystified by female anatomy and cycles, but understandably, Mom has become the preferred point person on some questions. She still keeps me in the loop and I sometimes have opinions about how to present information or guidance (like notes on lube), but I’m okay with them preferring Mom. It’s less awkward all around. Besides, she has experience in some practical details that I never will, like how often to change a tampon.6 If I had to raise them alone, I could learn such things from Google and women friends, but lucky for me, I’m not raising them alone.
When it comes to menstruation, sensory issues are more of a concern than straight-up knowledge. Try getting a girl who has never worn underwear to tolerate pads7, or who we can barely get to brush teeth, to change tampons as often as she needs to, without having to be reminded and then verified to make sure she’s done it. Teaching about menstrual cycles is a cakewalk compared to teaching the feminine hygiene involved when the time comes. My wife should get hazard pay.
Report Card
A+
If my daughters don’t know the difference between “vulvas” and “vaginas” by now, it’s not because their parents didn’t teach them – it’s because they live in a world where many people of all genders don’t know the difference.
If I ever expand on “the vulvar taxonomy of my mind” in an essay, it won’t be in one that’s part of a series on raising daughters.
Family nicknames for writing about them: “T1” and “T2” for our twin daughters, and “WAM” is “Wife According to Me”.
One of the many quirks of our kids on the spectrum was it took a long time before they could or would bathe independently. Shared showers were the easiest option.
That’s a “Stranger Things” reference, not a vulvar metaphor.
If you’re privileged like us, “The Talk” is about sex, but in some families that’s more likely to mean teaching kids how to behave around police.
Twice an hour? Once a week? I’m just a simple caveman dad, incapable of understanding tampons.
Recently one daughter, in the midst of her fourth-ever period, had an question come up for the first time and Mom was at work. She wouldn’t let simple caveman dad offer any advice, so she figured it out with YouTube – Teacher Of All Things.