the politics of curse words
One day, I would hear a group of men, inherent power in their fists, describe a caricature of a woman as a “cunt”, a woman who had no defining features to the conversation bubble but a bleak and objectified existence. Such language would send a shiver down toward the tip of my spine.
Another day, the word “cunt” is spoken as a shield of empowerment, a way to redefine femininity in the context of sexual liberation among cisgender women. Such expression uplifts me but also shuts me away from truly absorbing need of reclaiming that word.
And on a day other than those two, I use the word “cunt” as a method to re-appropriate the way we view the power balance between those who bear the sexual organ and those who don’t, incurring the question “is your ‘cunt’ my ‘cunt’”?
We use language to harm and to pleasure, to transcribe the weight behind our emotions into something that relates with our time. Specifically, the word “cunt” became pejorative since the end of the Stone Age. Around this time, female sexual power acquired some negative connotation as ancient nomadic societies transitioned into agrarian ones, where men needed to know who their children belong to due to land aggregation, ending the era of polygamy and female sexual liberation. Being a “cunt” thus means being a dangerous anomaly or an unproductive member of society living outside the lines of the patriarchy. The weight behind our emotions adjusted accordingly, working against the favor of the “cunt.”
What does that mean?
Many have wondered about the difference between the term “vagina” and “cunt.” Technically, vagina only signifies “the sexual passage of the female from the vulva to the uterus.” Cunt, however, describes the whole package — — external and internal, labia and vulva, pudendum and vagina, and of course, a place that even the hunter-gatherers may not be able to find — — clitoris. Not only does cunt entail a slew of anatomical markers, it also describes the epitome of female sexual pleasure. But, what does that pleasure entail in today’s world, still existing under patriarchal institutions and often internalizing the external factors that render female sexuality taboo, promiscuous, and offensive to bring up?
Moreover, what does sexuality mean different to you than to me?
That one day, to the group of men, cunt meant conquest and championship. It meant that they are not only in-line with patriarchal processes, they are owning it. “Cunt” is something easily disposable but hard to replicate, its pleasure points difficult to navigate, yet easy to ignore by blaming the women for “wanting too much when us men should do little.” Using the word “cunt” to describe a superior brings them to a more inferior position, where the existence of their sexuality itself is enough to alter their worth. It hyper-sexualizes the women by disintegrating their entireties into parts and redefining what those parts mean, for their own convenience and own social norms. “Cunts” could never do things right, but they can do things according to the methods of their oppressors.
On another day, “cunt” is meant to revolutionize the way we exist within the patriarchy. By referring to oneself as a “cunt,” a cis-woman is accessing the power within her feminine anatomy by first recognizing that her pleasure matters, too. This day changed the game plan but also segregated the “disruptive” from the “normal.” Many protested, shouted for justice, and demanded for change. They wanted society to accept the whole package — external and internal, labia and vulva, pudendum and vagina, clitoris and finally being able to find it— as things that are not only owned by cis-women but celebrated. However, there are humans who are excluded from that category of power-takers, humans who do not understand how the term “cunt” can describe any part of their identities in any shape or form.
Those two forms of understanding “cunt” exist between a binary, with a grey cloud floating in the middle that proceeds with caution, because they do not feel that there is a right answer, at least not yet. This grey cloud sees “cunt” as a descriptive word about female sex anatomy, but also a gendered adjective that internalizes patriarchal oppression. On this day, I used the word “cunt” to describe my presence as a woman but refrained from using it to describe my mother. I celebrated this word until it became too uncomfortable for me, and I did not know the reason why— and sometimes that is enough. To me, the mystery behind whether we should reclaim the term “cunt” remains unsolved.
My “cunt” could certainly align with your idea of “cunt,” or it would be worlds apart. Not all of us seek pleasure from the whole package that “cunt” entails, and not all menstruators (people who have periods) contain them or recognize their existence the same way cis-women do. Many humans trek unknown waters when we attempt to reclaim words, ignoring the pros and cons that also come with reclaiming them. It is all about what sends a shiver down your spine in a terrifying way, and what empowers you as a human being, period. All we can uncover is that we roll with the times, inevitably, when concerning power dynamics among the gender binary.
