by Cervo (10/06/04)

Wherein Cervo gives service to his favorite word.

Cunt is a word that has evolved from a much despised form of expression to an honored appellation in modern discourse. It can be said with a blunt sense of awe (which makes perfect sense to me). It has gained a sort of classical respectability -- especially in fiction and particularly erotica. D. H. Lawrence brought us the cunning variant 'cunny' in Lady Chatterley's Lover, but he meant Cunt with a few wildflowers for decor. The word's origins are ancient, but like all well-worn words in our language, its meaning and intention have morphed.

This admirable and fascinating body part has lost its mystique and with that, its sense of threat. We may still worship at the temple doors, but we can now enjoy the incense and aura rather than shudder at imaginary teeth. We know for sure there are no teeth down there.

We should remember that a generation ago many men, whether sexually active or not, had never seen a cunt. This part of the female body remained in the dark recesses of nightgowns and pantyhose. Before that it was wrapped in petit pants and strapped into (shudder) girdles. Removing or even shifting girdles builds upper arm strength, but they squeeze the central attraction out of shape and obscure the view. These days, most people who are interested can inspect a cunt at leisure, because feminism made the female body the property of the occupant.

Cunt used to be an epithet. It was used by cringing male office-workers who were threatened by female coworkers, and by construction guys. Now, many who write regard cunt as a simple, truthful word that has the right sound for what it represents. I myself used to abhor it. I've had to come a long way for this writing to be possible.

One winter in the early 70s I was living with my lady friend in Boston. As a recent college graduate and newly minted theatre producer, I had no income; I needed a paying job. I tried day labor unloading railroad cars and beer trucks. It comes as no surprise I suppose that cunt opens up many lines of discussion in freight cars and beer trucks. In mid-winter, the word cunt acquired a sort of warming effect to professional discussion.

"Hey asshole, get over there and haul that cunt out of the corner, so we can get these cunts onto the loader!" bellowed the gang boss. He was referring to flats of lumber. How anyone knew what he was talking about is not easy to discern, but he could also point. With his finger. That helped. The usage was not flattering nor was it hostile. He was referring to the great and universal 'dumb cunt' that has been generic to arduous endeavor throughout human history. Dumb actually means inscrutable. In the boss's case, a cunt was: 'something badly needed that is difficult to handle under demanding conditions and has to be coaxed into place.' That makes a degree of sense -- to a man. Men get quite frustrated trying to get some cooperation from their universe -- of which cunt is the center.

Cunts, however, are not dumb, as the dumbest dickhead will tell you, but they do not go in for abstraction. They are either open for business, and making that quite clear through a medley of sights, scents, and textures, or they are closed to the visiting public. If you lie down in front of a cunt who is perhaps airing herself after a bath or taking a nap on a warm day, her cunt doesn't look reflective. Study its darling lopsided expressions, and you will see endless variety but all seem to want the same basic things. Whether folded neatly into themselves or swelling with moist, fragrant pleasure, they are spirits of the moment. How many of them, after all, would be willing to give birth if they spent a lot of time thinking about it as opposed to focusing on the preliminaries.

Day labor paid thirteen dollars a day, so I took up teaching. It paid a lot more, and was indoors. Actually, I was a substitute teacher, which is really being a substitute prison guard without truncheon privileges. Since I could teach German, Latin, History, English, and Speech, I was sent out to teach Math and French. Having no more idea about French than the inmates in my classes, I let them study. That meant of course that they did anything but that. I listened to them and found myself exposed to whole new ways to discuss cunt.

Among teenage girls CUNT became a totem. It has taken on a whole new level of personal identity. Love me? Love my cunt. One girl of about sixteen who was nicely dressed in a sweater made a reference to another girl in the class as having a "corroded cunt." All eyes shifted to "she" of the metaphorical corrosion. The girl was large and fierce-looking, as though she might swill down battery acid at lunch. Miss Sweater had apparently thought she was out of earshot, but she wasn't. Silence fell among the females between them, as heads decked with little barrettes and bows turned back and forth like fans at a tennis match. Sweater girl started to apologize loudly and profusely. The aggrieved girl growled deeply like a she-bear with a hangover. There was nervous laughter from every corner of the room. I don't know how it was resolved, because the bell rang. And I was hiding.

The schools I was sent to guard were for the Hard Cases who in another, more appropriate setting would have been in Isolation. So my sample may not be representative of the teenage experience. However, in recent years -- being a student of the feminist movement and a feminist myself -- I have learned to listen between-the-lines to women's conversations, so I sense the theme is there if the actual words are not. The subtext being: say what you want but don't speak ill of my cunt. Cunt is the fundament, the nesting point, a sort of bedrock of one's honor that deserves basic respect. That seems to apply to the tightly bound pussies of southern sorority girls as well as the smash and grab apprentices of Boston.

What I am addressing is the demythification of the female anatomy and its entry into the language in that odd ambiguous form like other body parts (such as the penis) that are forever coming up in conversation.

We all know that among dicks:

And in the realm of our asses the field of reference widens:

This ambiguity is fundamental to all cultures in all times for various reasons. Example: the Roman preoccupation with the fact that the vagina and penis are located in the midst of excretion and urination. Romans found it confusing that the nice bits are entwined with the nasty.

In our time, we refer to sex as "doing the nasty." Sex can be nasty, but that is hardly what is meant when the term is used.

The term Cunt, however, has only recently come out of the hidden darkness (so to speak) and joined us as an acceptable, more commonly used word. One of my female friends finds the word enormously erotic. It has nothing to do with being debased by the word. I think she likes the thudding sound of it. It feels right as a description of having a vagina with a name and mind of her own. Her cunt wants what she wants, and is often not willing to listen to reason about lack of time, good sense, or prudence.

Nor is the word Cunt used like ethnic slurs such as "Nigger" or "Yid" -- which are taken up by those they are aimed against and made signatures of the group's private property. Cunt as a word, remains universal and usable by all, whether you have one or not. It even evokes a less negative reaction than "Tits." "Tits" offers an unaesthetic expostulation to be sure, perhaps because the sound is dental and pinched. It is oddly demeaning and off-putting to those who have breasts -- no matter how you say it. Some associate tits with bovine, which is never a well-received comparison. Men who are told they have big tits are rarely flattered, unless they are wearing eye make-up. Women commenting on another woman's tits are likely to get a slap in the puss.

That brings us (or at least me) to pussy, a descriptor that smacks of a racy endearment. An invitation or request to pet a pussy has a decidedly flirtatious feel to it that makes one think of dates with naughty girls.

Cunt as a word became important in feminism because it is not so indirect or titillating as pussy. Cunt can be said in a way that makes it amusingly matter-of-fact, or evocatively spiritual. Judy Chicago's large, permanent exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum celebrates the goddess in women through handcrafted ceremonial cunt-shaped dinnerware. Pussy, on the other hand, is a term that hardly seems apt when a cat and a cunt are placed together. Cats may be as willful as cunts and impossible to control or anticipate, but the texture is different, and cats lick themselves.

Cunt is much more specific than ass (as in piece of) which covers the entire region including the anus. An anus presents an entirely different psychological and mechanical dynamic. An anus can be very come hither and responsive, but I would hardly want to be thought an asshole by calling an anus a vagina. "Vagina" -- even when used as a stage for Monologues - seems like a word that could be comfortable only to those who speak Latin. Whatever that warm, furry (in most cases) opening ought to be called, vagina does not seem to fit.

Until I took a trip to the southern U.S., I thought "yoohoo" was a noxious chocolate drink. Apparently, girls down there use
"yoohoo" in lieu of cunt. What do you suppose prompted that?

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