An answer to the qotn (question of the now) which I posed a few days ago in slavehood:
What are your thoughts and associations to the word “cunt”?
I’ve had an affinity for the word cunt since I read Cunt
by Inga Muscio when I was 14ish, I think? Something like that. Not much after that I heard the reclaiming of the word cunt in The Vagina Monologues as well, and I have loved it ever since.
I’ve always liked it better than pussy or vagina or twat or any of the other terms for the female genitals, I think it holds a power that is primal and strong and something that can’t be taken away. Since it is such as strong word of female power it has been, of course, twisted to be the worst word to call a woman in our society, worse than bitch or slut or any of the other typical female slurs.
When referring to my own vulva I use the word cunt. I enjoy being called a cunt as well, should it be intended with desire as opposed to hurt. I identify with the word cunt more and more, and have considered it as a potential better word than “slave” as I feel that the connotations of cunt are far better than the connotations of slave, however, it is not a perfect match either.
I find it to be a wonderful word, rich in meaning, power, and association. It can be humiliating and shameful when used in the right contexts, it can be empowering and strong when used in other contexts, and it can be hurtful and painful when used in other (not so fun) contexts, but that is the adaptability and flexibility of meanings of words.
I love my cunt, and I love being a cunt, and I love other cunts too. I love saying cunt and seeing the reactions that I get. I love saying cunt to feel the silky smoothness roll off my tongue. I just love cunt in its entirety.
Reclaiming Cunt
From The Vagina Monologues
I call it cunt. I’ve reclaimed it, “cunt.” I really like it. “Cunt.” Listen to it. “Cunt.” C C, Ca Ca. Cavern, cackle, clit, cute, come–closed c–closed inside, inside ca–then u–then cu–then curvy, inviting sharkskin u–uniform, under, up, urge, ugh, ugh, u–then n then cun–snug letters fitting perfectly together–n–nest, now, nexus, nice nice, always depth, always round in uppercase, cun, cun–n a jagged wicked electrical pulse–n [high-pitched noise] then soft, n–warm n–cun, cun, then t–then sharp certain tangy t–texture, take, tent, tight, tantalizing, tensing, taste, tendrils, time, tactile, tell me, tell me. “Cunt, cunt,” say it, tell me “Cunt.” “Cunt.”
Cunt Cuntry
By Alex Olson
I’ve decided to start
Cunt Cuntry!
Write our own Cunstitution
Let our liberated clit bells ring out:
The Cunts are coming: It’s the Cunt Revolution!
I’d cut through my panties, I’d shake my pube hair loose,
I’d sign my Jane HanCunt in cursive with Cunt juice.
I’d declare the Independence of Clitoris to Shining Clitoris,
Proclaim the Emancipation of all Cunts–
and tell Dicks this:
You’re being drafted for the Big Solution:
Stand Erect, Be Proud,
You’re part of the Cunt Revolution!
Defending our slick, silky, vaginal turf
For all cunted creatures, created or by birth.
And they’d wear buttons with fists raised, that say:
Patriarchy! I survived! Now this Dick’s fighting the Good Fight for
Vaginal Pride!
And kids in school would learn the Her-story
Of the Boston Tea-ch Party,
When Cunt-Liberators tossed Cunt-Traitors into the sea,
Finally felt what it meant to be free.
And they’d learn how color complicated the win,
How White Cunted Creatures had to sacrifice Privilege,
Re-focus Vision for a Real Revolution to happen.
And kids would have weekly field trips
To the Museum of Un-Natural His-Story
With display glass jars of rapist dicks in all their shriveled glory.
And Behind velvet rope, ancient relics of the past, like:
Female Guilt, Circumcision knives, Certificates turning whole people into Wives.
And there’d be torture chamber exhibits
with tall, skinny heels
Inviting little girls to:
Try this, and see how this feels—
Cunted Creatures wore these to work or to anywhere formal:
This Pain was called Sexy. This process was called Normal!
And there’d be old collections of posters like:
Keep Abortion Legal- with a plaque:
Not much is known. But these come from an era when
Insecure Ruling Dickheads thought of
Bodies as something to own.
We’d pledge allegiance to P-Flag
With stars like you– and crooked stripes!
We’d carry passports made from a giant Cunt Mold
In all pubic colors: Gray, Auburn, Ebony, Gold.
We’d ban all commercials of:
Are you not so fresh?
Is your vag repulsive? Do you stink like fish?
And instead, we’d conduct a Cunt Taste-Testing Session,
Get used to the smells of Blood, Yeast, and the Ocean.
And Hothead Paison would lead Alison Bechdel’s Dykes:
Watch out for the Cunt Cuntry Army on Bikes!
There’d be an Esteemed Office called “National Astrologist”
And Cunt Commander in Chief would be… a Gynecologist.
And Michael Moore would be Vice-Pres…
Cause the Cunt Cuntry Court of Legality says:
Possessing a Cunt matters less than possessing
the Cunt Mentality.
And daughters would laugh at old-fashioned terms like
Virgin and Bitch and Whore
As they checked out the newest inventory of vibrators Sold at the corner store.
Because daughters would be freer and dykes would be Freer and dicks would be freer
If we stood up and sang:
My Cunt tis of Thee
My Cunt tis of Thee
Because Cunt is the latin root of Kin and Country
But see, somehow some of our countrymen forgot they had
Sisters, decided to treat us as unwelcome visitors,
Made it hard to have a cunt in this country.
Made it hard to have a cunt in this country.
So, we are starting Cunt Cuntry.
Not out of rebellion,
Or unexamined sisterhood,
Or some sort of Seventies Separatist Revival.
We are starting Cunt Land
For that which it will stand:
One Nation
Under Survival.
