The Woman Who Molested Me is the Reason I am Living with Vaginismus

Growing up, the advice our aunties gave about having good sex was: pull your labia to make the sex better and learn how to whine that waist. I skipped the labia pulling but practised whining my waist. I had to be somewhat ready!

But when my first time finally came, I was left wondering if I had cheated myself out of good sex by not pulling my labia. I thought the pain I experienced during sex was cosmic payback for not listening to the aunties about the labia pulling. My walk of shame deeply hurt, but I took the pain and used it as a talking point.

I knew that telling my friends that my vjay jay hurts would translate to his dick being big, swoon! I went along with it because nobody wanted to listen to sad sex stories. It was always about the pleasure, the squirts, the moans. All I wanted was to fit in.

I found comfort in the fact that women do experience pain after having sex for the first time. It made sense for a while until I was at sexual encounter number four. Penetration still felt like a spikey cucumber had just been shoved up my vagina. I would gasp at the point of penetration, and unfortunately, it translated to me enjoying the sex. The first ten strokes (yes, I counted) felt like death, but for the love of satisfying a man, I soldiered on. The pain, accompanied by a silent prayer, became a part of the process.

"You are so tight, oh my gosh," he cooed.

All the while, I was waiting for him to finish so I could escape the hell I was in. My moans were a cry for help, not for pleasure. I can not explain why I never spoke up about the pain or asked these men to stop. It felt like I owed them good sex, even though I was barely getting happy endings myself. And maybe the cultural belief that women should never deny a man sexual intercourse played a part in my submission. The pain lasted for days after having sex, and sometimes urinating hurt.

Then I met Jay*. After our first night, he asked me if I was nervous about having sex. Performance anxiety is a thing for everyone. Of course, I was nervous. As the conversation went on, I realised my body was betraying me more than I imagined.

"Your vagina kept pushing me out, and when I tried to go back in, it felt like it had closed up."

"That is why I kept trying to stimulate you with my finger," Jay said.

Naturally, I apologised, unsure what for. It made me feel like my vagina was out of order. I was sure that one day I would make it on an episode of Sex Took Me To The ER. On this encounter, Jay placed the blame on performance anxiety, and I hoped that was it.

However, this would not be the first or last time my body betrayed me in this manner with the same man; he was patient, but I always felt guilty. Through Jay’s communication, I realised why the pain intensified in previous encounters. What those men thought was my vagina being tight was the part when it clenched up. Of course, they mistook it for a trick I had mastered in the bedroom. They thrust harder and faster when they felt the clench because it gave them pleasure.

On the flip side, I had been introduced to tampons by a good friend. Sally* had described using pads as sitting in your blood all day, and that was the tampon advert I never knew I needed. I was excited to try them out. My period finally came! I danced and wiggled that tampon in with excitement before letting out a scream. The pain was excruciating.

I messaged my friend immediately, asking her if the pain I felt was normal for tampon users. Her obvious response was no. Disbelief clouded my judgment, and I assumed I had gone too big for a first-timer. I went online to purchase the regular tampons, hoping the pain would go away. I was wrong. There was no difference when I used the regular tampons. I was heartbroken because I had fallen in love with the ease that they came with.

Who knew that X (Twitter) would come to my rescue? I was aimlessly scrolling on X when I bumped into a thread by a girl who was giving an account of how sex was painful for her. Outside of the fact that I love a good thread, her story intrigued me. She described everything Jay and I had felt. The description of the pain, the random tightening and vaginal clenching, was to a T. I have never felt more understood by a person. That is when I learnt that I was living with Vaginismus.

Vaginismus is the body's automatic reaction to the fear of penetration, which results in involuntary vaginal muscle contractions. 4.3% of Black women experience vaginismus compared to 9.3% of white women and 15.6% of Latina women. The causes of this condition range from anxiety disorders, childbirth injuries, and trauma from sexual abuse or rape. The pain differs from one woman to another, with some cases being severe. There are multiple solutions to this condition, including Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, Sex therapy and Pelvic Floor Physical Therapy.

I was relieved to learn that my sexual experiences weren’t a result of bad karma, but I couldn’t understand why I was going through it until I sat before a therapist. As most abused children do, I had locked the memory away. After the passing of my parents at age 7, I moved in with my grandparents. They had a live-in housekeeper with whom I shared a room. Every night she would touch my vagina and insert her fingers inside me before making me do the same thing to her. I remember hating bedtime because I knew what would follow.

I never told anyone until I was much older. I just prayed that woman away, and for some reason, she was let go. That was my saving grace, at least I thought. The trauma doesn’t go away because of therapy; you learn to live with it. You learn to remind yourself that you were a child who was taken advantage of by an adult. You come to terms with the fact that your body stored the pain, and you slowly release it from that memory.

One of the things I struggled with the most was guilt. I felt guilty because sex with my partner was not as creative, because there were positions that were too painful for me that they enjoyed. While on some days I could talk my body into submission, on other days, I failed. It was hard to get past that, but my therapist reminded me that being able to enjoy those positions pain-free on some occasions is a sign of progress.

Healing requires patience, and progress is not a straight line. I am still learning to silence the voice that associates sex with pain. I am incorporating pelvic floor exercises and trusting that it will all get better with time.

Originally posted on Young & Oversharing, subscribe here. More stories like this on The Fat and Horny Podcast.