Echoes of My Mother The Psychology Behind Falling in

of responses affirming that larger labia are, get this, still sexy! Some commenters actually expressed a preference for larger labia, but most merely affirmed an overall sentiment of indifference. I also considered a study from the Department of Obstetrics and Gynaecology at the Good Samaritan Hospital, Cincinnati, on the desirability of different types of Vulvas (note: this research concerns male perceptions of desirability only). While a slight preference for smaller labia was recorded, the majority of respondents in this study also remained largely indifferent.

Why, then, given this variety and indifference of preference, are so many people embarrassed by the appearance of their vulva? People form opinions on what they expect the average vulva to look like based on what they see depicted in pornography, as this is often the only exposure we have to naked bodies before we become sexually active. Subsequently, when we see genitals in real life that differ from the homogenised depictions we saw growing up - be it our own or someone else’s for the first time- we feel confused and become convinced that something is wrong with them. So, it all comes back to how vulvas are depicted in the media.

Australia has always had an extremely contentious and complicated history of censuring the vulva and the female body in general. In an age of digitalised everything, a magazine from the corner store is no longer the way most people access porn. However, to this day, if you want to produce a pornographic magazine, the vulva must only appear as a single “healed crease” in order to comply with Australian censorship laws. The actual clause in the Australian Classification guidelines is as follows:

“Realistic depictions [of naked bodies] may contain discreet genital detail but there should be no genital emphasis.”

Which was somehow interpreted to mean that while the outer labia were fine, showing someone’s inner labia in porn was simply going too far. To comply with these guidelines, many magazines began using editing software to perform ‘digital labiaplasty’ on their models, and hence the expectation of a “tucked in” vulva as the norm was born.

In a review of the Publications Classifications Guidelines in 1999, a spokeswoman for the Anti-Censorship Program, Kylie Potter, raised a pressing double standard. While the Australian Classification Board (then known as OFLC), maintains that the labia minora is “too explicit” to be allowed in soft porn publications, the board has been “unable” to explain why it is therefore okay to show an unadulterated image of a penis. Could this strict regulation of the vulva-bearing body, where the cis-male body is free to go unchecked, have anything to do with a desire to restrict only certain people’s bodily autonomy? At the very least, I’m calling j’accuse for the board’s role in perpetuating censorship practices whose double standards carry harmful implications for bodily regulation.

So, there we have it. One day, someone simply decided that it was offensive to show a person’s inner labia in pornographic media publications, and managed to convince entire generations of impressionable, porn-consuming youngsters that a discreet “tucked in” vulva is the norm. In reality, studies suggest that around 56 percent of adult vulvas actually have inner labia that protrude beyond the labia majora; but if porn is the only exposure most people have to the naked human body until we become sexually active, how could anyone know? Perhaps, then, the lack of representation of different body types in mainstream pornography is not a standalone issue, but one fuelled by porn’s status as our youth’s primary source of sexual education.

These days there are many resources seeking to normalise and celebrate different types of vulvas, including Australian photographer Ellie Sedgwick’s Comfortable in My Skin and Netflix’s Sex Education campaign All Vulvas are Beautiful. As the show’s beloved character Aimee expresses, “Every vulva is unique and beautiful and deserves to be cherished.” So, from a policy level, it’s time to get rid of these archaic censorship laws which do nothing but prop up a multi-milliondollar cosmetic surgery industry and perpetuate double standards of bodily regulation.

Sometimes traipsing around Canberra I feel haunted by an unreal ghost. The spectre is an unknowable woman, but one whose presence I feel like a current of electricity always.

The ghost’s name is Kate, and she attended the ANU in 1984. She lived raucously and radiantly, testing limits of appropriateness, in existential opposition to ‘The Man’. She bleached her hair to a frizzy and discoloured bird’s nest, wore exclusively second-hand clothes and was most often accompanied by a misbehaved and clumsily oversized dalmation.

Beyond graduation, Kate had an equally remarkable and passionate life. She eventually had a daughter, who now attends the same ANU, and who lives in perpetual wistfulness about this version of her mother whom she will never meet. I’ve heard many stories centring

Kate as protagonist. Through these histories, I know her to be bold and outrageous and someone I think I would’ve liked to befriend.

On the day I was born Kate became Mum. She describes the transition as cataclysmic –suddenly she looked down at the crying, clawing lump of purple flesh in her arms, and knew that this infant was the most precious thing in the world. Where Kate was irresponsible and chaotic, Mum was completely dedicated to the lives and wellbeing of her children. She says the best thing she ever did in her life was her children and they are her proudest accomplishment. The loss of Kate was worth the gain of Rose and Natalie, according to Mum.