Pussy is Pussy

Pussy is Pussy: Linguistic Reclamation and Rediscovering the Feminine

Pussy. Is there anything more intoxicatingly fabulous, perfect in both form and function? I would go so far as to add “pussy” to even the most learned, skilled theologian’s illustration of divinity—man’s clearest proof that God exists and loves us. Immeasurably and unconditionally.

So it’s no small wonder why “pussy” is instead most often used in a pejorative or shameful sense, mostly to challenge one’s masculinity, facility, and sexual orientation (especially when used in conjunction with homosexual slurs):

“Don’t be such a pussy.”
“What a fucking pussy he is.”
“Don’t puss out on me, faggot. Suck it up.”

How could we be so shortsighted? So naïve. Unconscious. So unaware, so willing to relinquish our connection to the Feminine, so willing to suffer the consequences of over-identifying with the Masculine. So outright wrong about “pussy.” My brothers, now is the time for us to change, for society to change. We must reclaim “pussy” and in doing so, both correct this shameful malapropism and inch closer to actualizing our individual human potential. This is no less than a call to arms, a desperate urging to heal our connection to the wound that does not heal. Our very evolution as a species depends on it.

In recasting the word [and thus also beginning to reclaim the Feminine largely missing from society], we first need to establish the absolute incorrectness, the downright illogic, the fundamental wrong-headedness of using “pussy” to express negative ideals. Pussy is divine. Pussy is wonderful, soft and pliant, handsomely crafted of moistened silk. Velveteen. Pussy is love, pure and simple. We spend nine months planning our escape and the rest of our lives plotting our return.

So why then do we use it to express such negative ideas?

Instead, logic demands “pussy” be used to articulate only the positive: to express deep, rich levels of pleasure—man, this cheesecake is pure pussy; as general positive reinforcement—Hey, Bill. Pussy job on the Polanski account; to cherish loved ones—you’re the pussiest Dad in the world; to otherwise celebrate all that is wonderful and life affirming or in responding to questions in the affirmative— You must attend the Jean-Luc Godard film festival this weekend; It’s absolutely pussy. Have you gone on the new ride at Marine World? It’s so pussy that I almost shit myself. Have you read the Yekaterina Dashkova memoir? Straight up pussy of a read, man. Using “pussy” in any other way—especially as an insult—inaccurately demeans the godly nature of the female body while wrongly reinforcing, if not tacitly elevating, our society’s obsessively phallocentric orientation/point of view.

Perhaps most destructively, such usage shames us into ignoring, if not shunning, the archetypical feminine that resides in all of us, casting it into our personal and collective cultural shadow where it rears its rageful head in the most inopportune, destructive ways. Instead of pursuing our emotions, we swallow them, ignore them, deny them. Instead of experiencing our full capacities as a human being, we cut ourselves off from the collective—and thus from knowing our full, nurturing, intuitive, empathic selves—remaining somehow unconvinced that we are all connected, that we are all one, that we are together inextricably linked by this collective human experiment.

Instead, we’ve reduced the human experience to a competition to see who can collect the most stuff. Simplistic. Reductive. Destructive. This must stop. Now. Frankly, gentle readers, this call to arms—the resolute promise to reappropriate, rechannel, recast “pussy,”—carries with it both a linguistic imperative and a moral one. It starts here. Now. Just one small step in a series of steps—our journey of 10,000 miles has begun.

Don’t puss out.