Thinking Sexy Thoughts, Installment one: A Vagina by many other names

Miles Howe — Wed, 18 Mar 2015 14:26:54 +0000

What you think is your vagina might not be your vagina at all

Think peach and pussy are not the best words to describe your sexual organs? Guess what, vagina might not be a better choice.

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Valentine's Play

Maya — Fri, 27 Mar 2009 17:48:54 +0000

Reflections from a women’s bathhouse

As we step past frosted glass doors into a small, well-lit foyer my heart is pumping. The sound of excited voices through a second set of doors leaves me wondering what to expect. Feeling exhilarated by the space and slightly flushed by two glasses of wine, I notice my palms are clammy. This is my second time at Shedogs Bathhouse.

An older, very butch lady meets my friend and I at the front window. While taking IDs and tickets and offering towels, she relays the rules: respect, consent, confidentiality. Allowing our entry through the interior set of doors, she directs us to room four, where we can change and leave our belongings. All the lockers are taken as it is a full house tonight.

My only question, “Have we missed the fisting workshop?” is met with, “Starts in 10 minutes.”

The veneer of security is understandable. Bathhouses have long been targeted as hotbeds of homosexual activity. In 2000, Toronto police raided Pussy Palace, a women's bathhouse night at Club Toronto. Police, almost all of them male, entered the establishment and walked around, taking the names and addresses of some ten women and questioning volunteers.

Traditionally, gay bathhouses are places where men can go to have sex with other men, regardless of sexuality or social status. Bathhouses for women are much more rare. Twice a year the local Halifax men’s bathhouse, Seadogs, hosts a queer ladies night for woman-identified folk. Tonight is the ladies' Valentine's Day bathhouse.

Room four is one of many small rooms off a long, dimly-lit corridor. Each is equipped with a small bed, wall-to-wall mirrors and a handful of condoms and little lube packages scattered like candy on the clean white sheets. In one room there is an erotica-reading party, while others are occupied by lovers. We are told that the rooms on the main floor have a “doors open policy.” Private rooms are in the basement, ten dollars for a key.

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