In 1996, feminist scholar Susan Wendell wrote: “What can I know if I can’t know what I am feeling in my own body? How can I remain connected to a world that denies I am in pain, or dizzy, or nauseated, when I myself cannot deny that I am?”
In the same vein, vaginismus is difficult to diagnose due to similar side effects crossing over among various pelvic and vulvar dysfunctions, disorders, and diseases. Vaginal pain could be a yeast infection, a side effect from birth control, ovarian cysts, endometriosis, an STI—the list goes on. However, for many patients, doctors dismiss them, deny them an answer, and leave them with no treatment. Painful sex becomes a reality with no cure.
In 2008, Christine Labuski gained a PhD. in cultural anthropology after she left work as a nurse practitioner in the fields of gynecology, sexuality, and queer health. She was interested in “lived experiences” like STIs and abortions. Her dissertation turned into her book, It Hurts Down There. Now, Labuski teaches women’s and gender studies at Virginia Tech.
Claire blamed herself, as many people who are on the receiving end of pain do. With the lack of education surrounding vaginismus, people think this pain is unique to them. And with doctors lacking research and misdiagnosing pain, studies and data are largely absent from medical textbooks. “I had constant anxiety that my partner would want to break up with me,” says Claire. “I questioned daily why they were with me. We had not had sex in two years by the time I found a doctor that could help me.”
Since pelvic pain awareness has been budding at a grassroots level, penis bumpers like the OhNut ($65) have also hit the market. The device slides onto a person’s shaft, or a toy, and shortens the length, and serves as a bumper, to eliminate deep pain inside of a person.
