Little sticks and holes. All the same. As a person I am not sure if I am more of a vagina or a penis. Am I a carved sculpture that becomes a desert, a sea, a firth? Or am I an independent leech suspended from a human form. Unexpectedly important, unexpectedly abused. Basically, am I a taboo or am I a joke? I have to say a bit of both.
With a hat of pubic hair and a heart of a drag queen. I do grow a vagina from time to time. I do hide a penis for days of need. The contradiction and alignment of a man and woman isn’t so much about flesh as it is about the way we deal with the needs of that flesh. How easy or difficult it is for us to yield pleasure. Or deny it — in surrender or in pain.
I ask these questions not with curiosity or out of any thirst to know. I ask these questions to say that a penis may be a masculine thing and a vagina associated with the feminine, however when they become orifices to pass urine they become much the same. A little tingly, driven by the exact same urgency of the body. Much less melodiously placed as during sex but a lot more equal in stature.
Anyhow, I think I am much more of a penis while it’s limp and a lot more of a vagina when it is wet. I am probably a penis while I am walking from the uni to home and a vagina when I am staring into my monitor. I am most likely a vagina when I am designing games or writing poetry. I am certainly a penis when I am doubting myself. In all likelihood I am half a penis and half a vagina— careless in both of our identities. Accepting of both of our limits.
Shringi Kumari's short story 'Garden of Vaginas' appears in our debut anthology Stories About Penises, now available from Guts Publishing: www.gutspublishing.com/product-page/