In this new column we’ve asked our friends to unpack their relationships with the words that cause so many of us to become unstuck, and ask why do we hate them so much?
First up, Lead Edmond talks Pussy.
I remember the first time I really heard the word pussy. I was in year eight and overheard a boy in my class say, “you don’t like pussy, you’re a fag!” My stomach dropped.
I wasn’t quite sure I truly understood why but it certainly wasn’t the same reaction I had to a Tom Jones song, or the name my neighbour called out whilst shaking a whiskers box. At this point, I was still referring to my newly blossoming pubes as “fanny feathers”—thanks mum—so you can imagine my shock to discover the name on the pet bowl also referred to my nether regions. To be fair though, I went to school with girl who had a dog named Boner, so I suppose I wasn’t alone in my ignorance.
Ever since then, I have shuddered when hearing the word pussy used to describe a vagina.
It’s just one of those words my tongue is allergic to. Unless I’m mouthing the lyrics to a Wu Tang song, or quoting Team America, the word pussy won’t slide out my mouth without a stall and a shiver to accompany it.
Vag, fine. Minge, suprisingly fine. Cunt, I don’t see the fuss. Bearded clam, too funny to have a problem with.
Pussy… maybe it’s the snakey, lispy “ssss” sound that involves a little extra tongue to pronounce. Or the innocence that is associated with the word. Or maybe it’s the fact that the dreamy blue eyed boy in my class whose initials I had spent all term carving into my desk had managed to, in a few words, burst a perfect peachy bubble in my otherwise unscathed, godly vocabulary.
Either way, if the P-word was ever used to describe my little dudette, the taco van was closed for business.
