Written by Martina Minto.
Art by Elvira Modesty.
TW: Rape
When I was seventeen, I was raped by a man. It took me a while to regain confidence in my body; I spent a whole year avoiding romantic or sexual situations and during that time I also accepted that I am a lesbian. In my teenage years, I identified as bisexual, but never really enjoyed sex with boys; even prior to the violence, I would bleed during penetrative sex, which caused me embarrassment and discomfort.
I managed to lead a simple, penetration-free life. Overall I was happy, or so I thought.
So when I made the first steps toward healing from the trauma, I got back into dating girls, and easily avoided penetration. Sex worked just fine, I was able to have great orgasms with external stimulation and no one ever questioned my preferences. I could use tampons when they came with the applicator, but I cried when I tried using the menstrual cup. I managed to lead a simple, penetration-free life. Overall I was happy, or so I thought.
Five years have passed since I was raped. In September I started dating my current partner and the first time we were having sex, she asked me if she could insert a finger. I was really caught up in the moment and said yes, without even thinking about it. It took me nothing to come. Right after, I couldn’t believe it. I had spent five years avoiding the act, and in the heat of the moment I ended up enjoying it. I asked her to try again a second time, only to find myself completely unable to move. I was paralizyed; I was having an episode of vaginismus. That’s when she pointed out I might have a block, and not just a preference.
I am very competitive with myself; so when she said those words, all I could think about was I needed to get over this issue. I didn’t like the thought of the violence still having power over me and holding me back from enjoying every shade of sex.
The more I recognized my internal walls, the less scared I was of them.
I talked about it with my psychologist; she suggested I should try and insert one finger into my vagina, not in a sexual context, but simply to get to know it. I had avoided getting acquainted with that part of my body for so long that it was painful when I started. I was uncomfortable, I felt dirty and guilty. I had touched many vaginas up to that point, but I had been so concentrated on my parteners’ pleasure that I never stopped to learn how a vaginal canal was made, what it really felt like. The more I recognized my internal walls, the less scared I was of them.
I went to the gynecologist to check on the bleeding that had tainted my teenage years; I found out I have cervical ectropion (it means that cells from the “inside” part of the uterus are actually found at the end of the vaginal canal, which are caused to bleed when disturbed, eg. during / after intercourse). It can’t be fully cured, but I can undergo a treatment a couple times a year to help the wound heal; it consists in spraying a gel inside the vaginal canal.
A little by little, I began to use two fingers when exploring my body. Sometimes I would do it right after masturbating, getting used to associating penetration with pleasure, and it worked. I did it in the shower, I did it in front of the mirror. It was a game that gave me confidence each time, and when I was finally ready, I involved my partner.
The act of watching was reassuring: the consent was always present, the intimacy of sharing this moment got us closer, and my newly gained confidence turned her on.
We followed the same pattern: she would make sure I had an orgasm first, then I would look at her while she inserted one finger, then two, into my vagina. The act of watching was reassuring: the consent was always present, the intimacy of sharing this moment got us closer, and my newly gained confidence turned her on. We were set for a great win over my trauma.
And we did win. Even though my ectropion still leads me to bleed on her body sometimes, I love riding her when she wears a strap-on. I don’t hold back anymore. I fully recovered from all those years of blockage. I feel confident, beautiful and sexy when we do it, and plan to explore and switch as many positions as we can.
I didn’t know I had this block until it was pointed out to me. I know my story is common and unique at the same time. Us survivors tend to justify our own protective attitudes, but sometimes they are just trauma-consequences in disguise. To me, this realization came from the right person and at the right time, and I feel like the universe blessed me at that moment. A lot of time had passed from the violence, and I was ready to take the next step.
I am so glad I’ve undergone this path of exploration and healing; if I hadn’t done so, I would be missing out on some wonderful orgasms.
About The Author
Martina Minto is a lesbian feminist writer; she is based in Turin, Italy, but loves to travel and move around. She is fond of feminist essays and female writers, planning on being an active part in changing the deeply patriarchal Italian reality.
Follow on IG: @martinaminto | Follow on Twitter: @MartinaMinto