To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before

March 23rd, 2021

To All The Places I've Had Sex Before
$18.99 from Laux

Going back to school has left me with little time for leisure reading. I anticipated that hobbies such as video games would take a back seat, but I’ve been such an avid reader over the last few years that I didn’t see it coming. But with as much reading as I have to do for my classes, I haven’t wanted to do much else of it.

Fortunately, my second semester has provided me a bit more time to read for pleasure. Even more fortunately for me, my to-review shelf includes some very interesting books. To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before is no exception, but let me back up.

A lot of books about sex–or containing the word in the title–come across my radar. Sometimes I’m browsing publisher sites or upcoming lists on Amazon. Other times, pitches land in my inbox. To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before was one of the former, but it makes no difference when it comes to reading and reviewing. Either I like a book for its merits, whatever form they come in, and I recommend it to others… or not.

The sheer number of titles I look at means that they sometimes blend together or I forget the description of a particular book. That, sadly, was the case with To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before. I’m not sure if I did my research thoroughly enough in the first place to forget the facts about this book. I don’t know if I stumbled across Laux, the author’s, IndieGogo page that shows not only how Laux was intrepid enough to publish her book on her own but that the book is about Black sexual liberation. Or I might have landed on Laux’s website wherein she describes herself as a Black, womanist, sex-positive author who tells the truth.

So I was a bit surprised when I finally dove in, but pleasantly so.

And I feel like I need a disclaimer here. I am only some of those things. Notably, I am white, and this colors so many of my experiences. It also makes me wonder if I can accurately describe the depth of this book to readers who may be Black or non-white. It may be that focus on the top notes and miss the mid-notes. If anything, however, this is an argument that To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before is an even better read than I am capable of recommending.

Laux herself does a good job of explaining just what the reader is in for in her introduction. She’s loud and proud as a Black woman who loves sex but who hasn’t always had the words or opportunity to talk about it. It’s prevented her from being as sexually free and potentially safe or satisfied as she could have been. In these pages, Laux addresses the myriad places where she’s had sex before, coming to terms with her past and sexuality, and creating a stronger foundation for a future that is sexually free.

Each chapter is not like you might argue this review is, a love letter to those places. No, Laux is more honest, more raw, than that. Some of those experiences are negative. They toe the line of consent or even step right over it. To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before might be difficult for some people to read. For them, I may not recommend it, but it remains important for those who do have that capacity.

As for me, I was captivated right from the beginning. Laux leads us on a journey. City by city, she recounts the places she’s had sex. Foam parties, public bathrooms, and parks, just to name a few. She is at once a party girl and sexually liberated woman who makes me envious in comparison. But as Laux moves between Michigan, New York, back to Michigan, and Washington, D.C., she takes the reader with her, and we come to understand the parts of herself she hid while she was overexposed. The commentary to each place at the end of the chapter makes it easier to understand now just who Laux was then, but who she is now and who she may become.

Now, Laux and I may not be the same people, far from it. Yet while I cannot ever understand what it means to be a Black woman who is simultaneously expected to allow others access to and shunned for embracing her sexuality and body, I still saw glimpses of myself between the covers of this book. When Laux discusses boundaries or her fear of rejection, I feel a lump welling in my throat. Maybe we’re not so different after all.

There are certainly people who may not be impacted similarly as To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before. There are those who may not be sex-positive or womanist or who do not see the impact of race. More importantly, I think there are some people who will not be able to draw parallels because, fortunately for them, their experiences differed. I would still encourage them to give this book a try.

But for the majority of people, there’s something… universally human about To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before and the way that Laux wrote is that is reassuring and invaluable (if you agree, you can submit your own story on her site). I can only hope the process of writing it was invaluable to her.

Psst, Laux sells autographed physical copies of her book, and you should totally check it out!

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Categories: Books

On Finding Comfort In Surprising Ways and Times

March 12th, 2021

I wrote this love letter of sorts almost exactly one month ago, shortly after meeting–and fucking–someone with whom I had been chatting for nearly two months. The significant and sudden entrance of someone into my life, especially during this pandemic, could not have been more surprising. Perhaps more surprising still was the surprising amount of comfort I felt, not just with someone new but with the first person since my diagnosis and removal of abnormal cervical cells, which left me feeling a deep sense of betrayal from my body.

A week ago, we were watching the sky brighten the cracks in my curtains, fingers interlaced and cuddled together. I was both shocked at how the hours had already passed but also impatiently waiting for you to kiss me. I thought about taking the leap of faith myself, but I couldn’t quite read you. In the end, you were right (again); I was more comfortable best to you than I could have imagined but I wasn’t bold enough to kiss you. (I might argue that you were wrong not to invade my space and press your body against mine immediately, however).

Perhaps it was a well-thought-out machination because I was certainly hungering for your lips by the time they pressed against mine. And there was no way I could (could you?) Let any more time go to waste when we could be enjoying the very activities we had spent nearly two months talking, dreaming, and masturbating about.

As far as first times go? It’s hard to top that. I don’t usually let people stay in my home for over a day, let alone my bed. But it just came so easily once our limbs were finally entwined. I so quickly found myself experiencing not just pleasure but safety.

Even now, the sense of longing I feel to kiss you; to run my hand over your chest, and thighs, and cock; to hold your hand; to glance up at your (seriously attractive) lips before kissing you; to watch how the diffused light hits your cheekbones, it’s all so overwhelming. I have to pause in case I might shed a tear.

But if my mind can’t stop racing now, it was put at such ease then. It felt so natural to fall asleep in your arms or wake up and glance over at you or kiss your bare skin or move closer or arch my body to give your hands better access or spread my legs for you to enter me (an unfuckingbelievable source of ecstasy for me… And hopefully for you). There was a distinct lack of self-consciousness and judgment as I simply let myself… be. One of the few times in my life. Even eye contact became noticeably easier (and sexier?) from just a few hours before.

I do recall grateful thoughts for not having to compartmentalize sex the way some people do. It didn’t feel like we had to shrink ourselves in my bed. I could be whole, perhaps more than whole with you next to, beneath, inside of me, and I felt so thankful for that.

There was one nagging thought at the back of my mind: would I cry? I’d made no efforts to hide the fact that I hadn’t had sex since having part of my cervix electrically cauterized, and while all went well, I still felt so betrayed by my body. It has taken months for me to touch myself again; I was briefly afraid that I wouldn’t be able to experience pleasure anymore. You can imagine my relief when it–and my sex drive–returned over the course of last year… And stayed once I started taking SSRIs. But I thought that whoever I slept with that would demarcate the “after” would need to be easy.. because what if I had to deal with pain or blood or tears from the trauma?

Except none of that came. Only I did–repeatedly and sometimes surprisingly–as the hours (and then a full day) passed, comfortably, enjoyably, sleepily. We filled the hours with sweet words and pillow talk, kisses and cuddles, and the type of ease that I rarely get to experience. The tears never arrived, and I was surprised when sleep finally did. I’ve struggled to sleep next to everyone I’ve ever shared a bed with, and while it wasn’t my best sleep ever, it was surprising nonetheless. To one of us, at least.

When you said it felt so right, I couldn’t have agreed more readily. I’d be lying if I understand how, but I feel it in my god damn core. Without having to convince myself. How can that be?

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Categories: Dating

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Blogger, Student, Sex Educator?

January 30th, 2021

A little under a year ago, I made a decision: I was going back to school.

I had graduated 15 years prior and only taken a handful of college classes. I had always intended to go back to school eventually but just never got around to it.

As our governor shut down the state due to COVID-19, I found myself with more time on my hands than I’d had in some time and running the numbers. Could I afford to go back to schotance.

I was, however, worried about finances and how I would do in college after being out of school for so long. Was I actually as intelligent as I hoped? As others said? Was it wise to start mol if I wanted to? Was there a program I could do online that might be worthwhile?

I decided that I could and there was. Thanks to COVID, the application deadline was pushed back. I told a few people that I had applied to UW-Milwaukee’s online psychology program, and some wondered if I was going to apply to more schools. But I hadn’t. This was a program that I could work into my life, and I wasn’t worried about accepy first semester of college with five classes?

I’m old enough to have been taught that college is something important if not mandatory, but while some of my aunts had attended, my mother hadn’t. None of the people close to me were college graduates. At the very least, no one had earned a degree and was actively using it. Without that data, I felt pretty apprehensive about going back to school.

But as the fall semester drew nearer, I wasn’t sure I could actually swing it financially. I qualified for some assistance, but our state schools are more expensive than some other states. I talked about options, but they were only able to give me one: go for an AA at a 2-year school to save money. Except that would leave me in the same position in two years. But thanks to the stimulus and tax breaks for education, I realized I really could swing this.

It wasn’t until I paid the last of my tuition that I posted publically that I was returning to school. Still, I didn’t say it in so many words, and there were people with whom I never discussed the topic until I had finished my first semester.

I’ve since finished that semester, earning a 4.0, my place on the dean’s list, and an invitation to honors courses, so I guess some of my fears were unfounded. After a long break, during which I didn’t accomplish nearly as much as I thought I might, I am on to my second semester and my first honor’s course.

Now, this all may seem entirely unrelated to my sex blog, but it’s not. For years, I have felt like I wasn’t quite qualified to write about sex the way that I wanted and in the way that I do. This self-doubt may not be entirely accurate (after all, plenty of other bloggers have moved into the realm of sex education), but I felt the lack of qualifications nonetheless. On top of that, I wanted to move my sex education efforts away from this blog.

For a few years, I’d been aware of the graduate certificates offered by the universities of Michigan, Minnesota, and Wisconsin in sex education and therapy. There are options if only I had a 4-year degree to use as a foundation.

Thus, I found myself looking into 4-year degrees that I could work into my life (ie: do online) and that made sense for a sex educator. Psychology fit the bill, and it was something I’d considered for over a decade, anyway.

Most people are focusing on the next four years, and if I’m being honest, I am, too. With work, five classes, a budding romance, and the rest of my responsibilities, it’s easy to get caught up in the quotidian and lose sight of the bigger picture.

But with those people who have asked what I plan to do in the long run and how this degree will help me, I have shared my plan to look into at least a graduate certificate, if not a degree. I cannot say how interested I will be in continuing school after this or where my life will take me, but a further degree is always an option.

With that said, I realize that part of my issue is not one of qualifications but one of confidence, location, and perhaps marketing. If I want to make sex education my full-time gig, then I need to change how I represent myself, starting with my identity. For years, I’ve realized that I would want to so under my actual name and that I would ditch the pseudonym Adriana. To this end, I would also revamp this blog; although there is some content I’d like to keep, I would shift away from reviews to other articles and helpful content.

I know I am not alone in my struggles to market myself. Who among us doesn’t face some sort of imposter syndrome? But it’s something I’ll need to get over or at least work around one way or the other.

And school might help me with that. It’s reminded me that I am intelligent and capable. Perhaps it will provide me with connections or steer me in a particular direction. I’ve long known that I wouldn’t mind research as well as sex education as a potential career path.

But school isn’t my only avenue for networking. In the 21st century, a Web presence is a must, which means I need to maintain this blog better than I have been over the last few months, be more active in the Twittersphere, and figure out what I want this website to be and make that happen.

While discussing this with a close friend, he suggested that I should specifically write about my return to school and my desire to educate about sex in a more official capacity. He suggested that inviting you all along on my journey might help me be more personable or relatable. I wanted to balk because my anonymity on this blog has served me well at different times, but I cannot argue that his advice is unsound. I think opening myself up to you all can strengthen my voice as a blogger and our relationship.

So I guess this post does that while also serving as an explanation of my absence, an announcement of my intent, and an attempt at accountability.

If you’ve been reading me for years, I’d love for you to keep coming back. And if you’re just discovering Of Sex and Love or Adriana Ravenlust, stick around. Things are going to get even more interesting.. eventually.

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Categories: Site

Fall 2020 Media Recommendations

October 30th, 2020

I’ve skipped right from spring to autumn, and I hope you all won’t mind! It’s been busy for reasons that I really should blog about! With that, I’ll leave you with some media recommendations that will keep you busy!

A content warning: the last several podcast recommendations mention sexual assault and abortion. I’ll mention the content warning again so you can skip to the next section!

Listen

I found the episode of American Sex with Catie Osborn about ADHD and sex to be interesting. It touched on some science and revealed how much more we have to discover. I only wish she had backed up some of her statements with sources.

Sunny and Ken also interviewed Ana Algos about being a BDSM switch,  teaching kink online, safety, and how COVID has made education more accessible to those people who weren’t privileged enough to participate in such things before.

There are several of Sluts, and Scholars episodes that were great listens for me! First up, Andre Shakti discusses wrestling fetishes, learning shame about sexual interests, and non-intimidating ways you can open up to a partner about sex. I also recommend you tune into the episode with Zoe Ligon, owner of Spectrum Boutique, who discusses her book about sex toys, sex education, and providing toys to shoppers during the pandemic.

I couldn’t write a post without mention Tristan Taormino’s podcast Sex Out Loud Radio, either. Tristan invited Dr. Nan Wise on her show to discuss her interest in neuroscience and sex, which is right up my alley and should be up yours, too!

Content warning: sexual assault and abortion mentioned below

I also LOVED Tristan’s talk with Jennifer S. Hirsch and Shamus Khan about their work on campus sexual assault. It’s the sort of research that I find fascinating, and they ask some tough but necessary questions.

I couldn’t believe how unethical and common pregnancy crisis centers are when I listened to Unladylike’s episode on the topic. The facts and firsthand knowledge shared will blow your mind in the worst possible way, but it’s absolutely worth a listen.

Finally, I want to recommend an entire podcast. Beyond Fear: The Sex Crimes Podcast by Alexa Sardina and Alissa Ackerman is full of the science I love and the compassion we need around the topic of sexual assault. I first heard Alissa on Unladylike in an episode about the American prison system but knew I needed to listen to her podcast with Alexa to understand more about sexual assault. Both women are researchers who have worked with perpetrators and survivors of sexual assault and are survivors themselves, and the knowledge they provide in this podcast is astounding. Every episode has been eye-opening; most have been difficult. I also appreciate what a good job they do with content warnings at the top of each episode. If you can handle it, it’s one of the most important podcasts I’ve ever listened to.

Watch

I came upon these two talks separately, so while they both deal with gender, it’s a coincidence.

In her Ted Talk, Karissa Sanbonmatsu discusses the search for a biological basis for gender and, more specifically, how epigenetics impacts gender. as she attempts to answer the question, “What does it mean to be a woman?” Epigenetics and the basis of gender are both fascinating on their own, but it’s genius to consider them together. Science can only take us so far, however, and the compassionate undertones in Karissa’s speech remind the listener that women don’t exist in vacuums. We’re part of society, which also gives meaning to being a woman.

To continue the theme, Emily Quinn starts her Ted Talk with “I have a vagina.” But she examines how we place people into boxes labeled “man” and “woman” and what it means to be intersex. Emily discusses natural human variation and the shortcomings of the sex/gender binary, and the harm it does to people.

Read

I’ve been busy reading other things but was so excited that my library picked up Kate Lister‘s A Curious History of Sex, which was released in February. I’m always impressed when a book surprises me with knowledge, and this one did!  It was funny and quick, and I hope to make time to review it shortly. If I don’t get around to it, I still recommend it!

One of the things about doing a semi-quarterly version of these posts is that I don’t feel the need to pad the posts. I really have a chance to consume some quality media, which doesn’t just make for good recommendations; it also keeps me entertained and informed. I hope these posts do the same for you, and if you think there’s something I ought to recommend or simply enjoy myself, please let me know in the comments!

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Categories: media recommendations

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Not Always in the Mood: The New Science of Men, Sex, and Relationships

September 25th, 2020

Not Always in the Mood: The New Science of Men, Sex, and Relationships
$15 from Amazon

Sex and science are my butter and bread. I think my readers know this already. Though, I have sadly fallen behind on Science of Sex posts.

Still, don’t fear! Because I’m here to talk to you about an entire book about science and sex, and one that aims to examine something that we take for granted: male sexual desire.

In Not Always in the Mood, author Sarah Hunter Murray relies on her experience as a couples’ sexual therapist to delve into the complexities of male sexual desire and bring a more nuanced look of the subject — mostly.

This is a caveat that I need to address and early on. In her work, Murray works with couples. She specifically mentions men in their 30s through 60s. While it’s a pretty wide range, these men are presumably in relationships, and she doesn’t mention men in their 20s at all. I think the title and tone of this book suggest all men, but there’s clearly a large swath of them who are left out. And while it can be reassuring to learn that, yes, men are human, too, and their desire reflects that, not explicitly stating who she talked to for this book may lead some readers astray. Men who are younger or prefer casual sex over relationships might differ from the men who Murray talked to. Namely, they may not be as invested in their partner’s emotional and physical satisfaction. If those partners think this information applies to those men, I can see them being let down.

In short? This book might better be subtitled “The New Science of Some Men, Sex, and Relationships.” I wish that were explicit.

In her book, Sarah Hunter Murray tackles common myths about men, sexuality, and desire. As the reader dives in, they’ll see that Murray’s research is qualitative and not quantitative. She crafts amalgamated stories from her past clients and sometimes uses quotes. It’s helpful to know when sentiment has been frequently expressed by her clients. For example, they want their partners to initiate sex more often or sometimes find their desire has waned for no discernible reason.

But I cannot help but wonder if it would often be even more useful to see some hard numbers along with this qualitative evidence. Murray’s research almost seems incomplete without that. Right now, Not Always in the Mood is interesting and helpful to a select group of people, but it doesn’t feel groundbreaking. It’s reassuring. It might spark some conversations. But it’s all sort of common sense.

With that said, we all know that common sense isn’t always that common. Maybe too many buy into the beliefs that men always want sex or measure masculinity by the strength of an erection. These reminders are useful. I can imagine scenarios where I would recommend this book. It’s certainly cheaper than therapy. And once people start viewing male desire with more nuance, they may spread that knowledge to others: partners, friends, even children.

Not Always In the Mood isn’t the perfect book for everyone, however. Despite a disclaimer that it can be useful to those who aren’t straight or cisgender in the beginning of the book, it’s really heternormative. I would hesitate to recommend it to anyone who isn’t straight or cis.

Furthermore, while the author mentions some sexual research, she never really uses scientific terminology, the type which I have discussed on this blog in the past, that might tie her research into existing research on sex and relationships. In several instances, it would have been worth mentioning and comprising spontaneous and responsive desire by name, yet Murray did not. The dual-control method would have fit right in, too. In fact, she did mention Emily Nagoski, whose book Come As you Are, discusses both topics. It would have been a great way to show the similarities, between men and women to hammer home the idea of men as being just as complex and human as women, but this book never reached that point. Perhaps Murray thought the concepts weren’t basic enough for her readers. Or maybe she wasn’t personally familiar with them.

I don’t feel like I am worse off for reading Not Always in the Mood, but it may not be the ideal book for me, a lover of science who has mostly casually sleep with men in their 20s. I would love to have seen some statements made that applied to men more generally, coupled up or not. Quantitative evidence would give this book an edge, too. On the other hand, maybe I just wish it had a different subtitle. For example..

Not Always in the Mood: The Truth About Men’s Desire in Relationships

Okay, so it’s a work in progress. But it’s a bit less misleading.

I know I’ve gone on about this at some length, but I think that these things matter. Had this book simply suggested it was about lessons on male desire from the POV of a couples’ therapist, I would have had different expectations.

Frankly, that angle is precisely what the reader gets, and it’s valuable. Sure, the idea that men want to be wanted, too, have hangups about their penis size or looks, or that their desire is impacted by stress might be common sense if you stop to think about it, but people don’t think about these things as much as they should. We can use another authoritative voice speaking on these things.

Sarah Hunter Murray might yet come to be that authority, but I don’t think she quite proves it in Not Always in the Mood: The New Science of Men, Sex, and Relationships. This may not prevent the book from helping some people, but it may not help as many people as it could if Murray had taken a different approach.

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Categories: Books

Spring 2020 Media Recommendations

July 1st, 2020

I haven’t posted much since April. I had no motivation during the quarantine. I was stressed, and my body reacted strangely. For a brief while, my attention span was too short to do much else than work.

Fortunately, I feel better in most ways and have dived back into my favorite podcasts and discovered new authors. So there are plenty of books, podcasts, and videos that I can recommend for anyone who wants to fill some time or learn more about the world they live in. They’re mostly about sex, but race has played an important role in my media consumption due to current events and my own efforts to read more black authors.

As always, I’d love to hear what you found entertaining, sexy, or provocative in the comments!

Watch

Radiolab’s Molly Webster discusses how the sex chromosomes became ever-so-important in her TED talk.

Misty Gedlinske took on the issue of bisexual erasure in her TEDX talk, and boy did it hit home!

Read

I don’t have any book suggestions that are related to sex because I’ve been continuing my 2020 goal of reading more black authors. Thus far, I’ve been enjoying Michelle Obama discuss her life in Becoming, which she narrates in the audiobook version.

The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness is ostensibly about mass incarceration but is really about so much more. Aside from being the best book I read this year, it’s the book on race that I was looking for, having found a few other books a bit basic at this point in my journey; although, others may want to read one of those books before working up to it. In fact, this is the one book I would recommend to everyone about being black in America over any of the others I’ve read this year.

I was hesitant to read Malcolm Gladwell’s Talking to Strangers after hearing some criticism with the way he discussed the Brock Turner case, but I did. The audio version is more than a little pretentious but some of the points he made, especially those about race and policing, have really stuck with me.

Listen

In this entertaining episode of American Sex, Sunny and Ken talk to OnlyFans star Savannah Solo.

Jessie and PJ invited Allie Knox and Kiara Skye on the podcast to discuss the future of sex work and payment processing. They make an excellent example of why sex work is the perfect case study for blockchain payments and talk about developing the technology behind it.

I wasn’t expecting a podcast about “masculinity and memoirs” to make me reflect on some of the mistakes I’ve made in the past, but Tristan and Cooper’s recent discussion on Sex Out Oud Radio did just that.

On the theme of podcasts-I-might-have-skipped-but-I’m-so-glad-I-didn’t comes this podcast about breaking out of the gender binary and its powerful words by ALOK that made me cry and catch my breath in places.

Hopefully, everyone is still thinking about black lives. If you want to know more about the interaction of race and sex work, Phoenix Calida gives the lowdown on Peepshow Podcast.

Tristan eloquently navigates a conversation about blackness, sexuality, and more in her interview of Gene Demby from Codeswitch.

I found the recordings of each of the 16 different sex workers included in this episode of Peepshow Podcast to be incredibly evocative.

Ologies if one of my favorite podcasts, and I’ve been making my way through the archives, so I have several recommendations. Two of them are most recent: Neuroendocrinology (sex & gender) with Daniel Pfau and BlackAFinSTEM, which wasn’t about sex but gave black voices in STEM a chance to speak. You can also check out the sexology episode with ShanBoody and Ali’s talk with Philippa Ribbink about gynecology. Philippa has a great voice and mentions a need for more anatomy education that The Vagina Bible has since provided.

Jad and the crew at Radiolab thought about blackness through the filter of Nina Simone’s music. Incredibly powerful.

I have read two of Emily Nagoski’s books, listened to her own podcast, read her blog, and shared her articles. Yet, she still manages to say things that blow my mind like she did when talking to Nicolette of Sluts and Scholars.

 

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Categories: media recommendations

The Vagina Bible: The Vulva and the Vagina — Separating the Myth from the Medicine

June 17th, 2020

The Vagina Bible
$15 from Amazon

Note: this book is currently free to rent if you have Amazon Prime.

Since reading The Vagina Bible, there have been several instances in which I wanted to recommend it to other women who asked had questions or expressed ignorance about how their body works. I’m sure it’s a combination of me spending time in different online communities these days, but I have been consistently reminded how very little that women — and others with vaginas — know about their bodies. We certainly need a resource like The Vagina Bible aims to be.

Let me start by addressing the misnomer, and it’s one that this book’s author, OBGYN Jen Gunter, explains herself. In her disclaimer, Dr. Gunter tackles the common misuse of the word “vagina” to mean vulva and not just the internal organ. The Vagina Bible is about both, but the good doctor uses the word that is commonly used to refer to both when naming the book.

The other thing that I think needs addressing regards to this book is whether it’s cis-normative. Right off the bat, Dr. Gunter discusses the woman patients she’s treated over her 30+ years in the field. If a reader were, for example, a trans man with a vagina, they might think that this book has nothing for them or find the tone exclusionary. It’s unfortunate because The Vagina Bible does have information that applies to trans folks, not just those men who may have a vagina but also trans women who have a vagina. There are sections in the book that apply explicitly to these situations, yet readers don’t know that until the third chapter when Jen first mentions the word “trans.” It strikes me that including mention of this in the introduction would be such an easy fix.

As a resource, The Vagina Bible can be read straight through like I did. You could also simply use the ToC or index to navigate to the section that pertains to the subject in question. In this way, The Vagina Bible is like a reference. However, the reader might miss some information in The Vagina Bible that is quite interesting if they approach the book in this manner. I do suggest at least glancing over the more preliminary information, such as the anatomy lessons. I was pleasantly surprised at how much I learned just a few pages in (eccrine glands and melanin in the vulva), and the lessons continued.

I’ve already mentioned the chapter for our trans friends, and its information was mostly new to me. Dr. Gunter follows this with a section on sexual pleasure and education, which I wish explicitly used the phrase “responsive desire,” and more than once i thought she was a bit reductivist when discussingtopics. For example, she states that FE comes from the bladder and is, therefore, urine but does not discuss the differences in how the body processes the fluids. Similarly, she does not mention that one of the reasons that spermicide is bad is because of how toxic it is to the delicate mucus membranes, a shocking oversight in my opinion. Although The Vagina Bible is not intended to be a book about pregnancy, Dr. Gunter does include some basic information at the end of the first section.

Readers looking for practical advice might skip right to the second section, which focuses on maintenance and issues such as exams, yeast infections, underwear, Kegels and lube. The author tackles wipes and their potential to cause irritation in a chapter in the third section, which also includes information on cleansing, grooming, and moisturizing. Jen relies not just on her experience as a doctor but also as a woman, especially in this section.

She continues to bash myths as she moves on to discuss the menstrual cycle, products, and the risk of Toxic Shock Syndrome before moving on to a section on menopause that I no doubt might find more useful in a few years but that does paint The Vagina Bible as a useful resource for people with vaginas no matter their age.

I found the information about biofilms and how they interact with IUDs interesting as a person who has had three of them now. The facts that Dr. Gunter presents in the chapter on contraception exemplify just how easy it is to miss out on information related to sex or be actively misinformed. After discussing how various medicines and chemicals affect the vaginal ecosystem, Jen moves on to cosmetic procedures. It is here where she outright dismisses the possibilities of the “O” Shot in just a few paragraphs, and I’ve seen criticisms of the author/book from other medical professionals in response to this.

I think that this highlights one of my main issues with The Vagina Bible. While Dr. Gunter has decades of experience as a doctor and even more as a woman, she’s more than a bit dismissive about some topics. The tone she uses can be offputting, and this is coming from a sex-positive feminist who generally agrees with her position on many things. I would never say that there is any place where feminism doesn’t belong, but I can imagine that there are some people who would better receive this book and its much-needed content if Dr. Gunter would soften her tone occasionally and allow room for new research and ambiguity rather than doubling down on her opinions, which are not always lenient when it comes to men.

With a few caveats, I would still recommend The Vagina Bible as a resource until someone else puts together a book that’s even more comprehensive and updated. This is especially true regarding the conditions and symptoms sections, which provide information that can help people advocate for themselves medically. This can be so difficult, and even more so when things aren’t working quite right.

For anyone who is wary about the tone used in this book, I might suggest looking up topics only as needed, which brings me to my final point.

Rest assured that while the information in The Vagina Bible might seem encyclopedia, it’s not nearly as big of a tome as it appears. The font is huge! It really makes this book bigger than it has to be at 400-some pages.

 

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