Rediscovering the body and pleasure as our own territory
We, women, inherit a partial view of our bodies. We were taught to understand it through its biological function—gestating, menstruating, breastfeeding—but rarely as a source of pleasure and knowledge. In most medical and religious discourses, female anatomy was presented as an object of study, not as a space inhabited by desire. And in that gesture of omission, pleasure was relegated to a corner of shame and silence.
Psychopedagogue Analía Pereyra, a specialist in comprehensive sexual education, and our co-founder Ursula Pfeiffer agree that recovering knowledge of the female body is an act of emancipation. The way we name it reveals how much power has been taken from us and how much we can reclaim. Speaking of the vulva, clitoris, or labia majora naturally is not irreverence: it is reappropriation. It is recognizing ourselves as the only valid interpreters of our bodily experience.
Reclaiming what was always ours
Analía expresses it clearly: “In our culture, everything revolves around the vagina as an organ for reproduction, but nothing is said about pleasure.” This imbalance is repeated in classrooms, consulting rooms, and the media. The female body continues to be narrated from function, not from sensation.
Ursula, from her work at Yuriyana Club, delves into the root of the problem: “Between academic discourse that rarely lands in experience and the commodification of sex, there is a huge void: that of a real, feminine conversation about sexuality.” This void leaves us without role models, teaches us to feel guilt before curiosity, and reinforces the idea that knowing ourselves is a gesture of audacity, not well-being.
Recovering the language with which we name our bodies is, in itself, an act of power. Every word we stop silencing gives us back the possibility of inhabiting.
The anatomy of pleasure
Science and education have invisibilized the most powerful organ of female pleasure. As Analía reminds us, “the clitoris is an organ created solely for pleasure. Most people only know the glans, but inside it has roots that fill with blood when we get aroused.”
This ignorance is not accidental. “There are women who still believe that the vagina is where you urinate,” Analía warns. “That is not ignorance: it is a consequence of an education that silenced the essential.”
Ursula summarizes it with a revealing gesture: “To describe the clitoris, we still have to compare it to the penis. That shows how much more we understand male sexuality than our own.” Medicine, by taking the male body as a universal reference, left us without our own map. But every time a woman knows her anatomy and calls it by its name, she begins to draw it.
Beyond the myth of the G-spot
For decades, we were led to believe that pleasure depended on a hidden, almost magical spot that someone else had to find. “The G-spot is not a button or a secret, but a sensitive area,” Analía explains. “The entire female body is erogenous.”
This understanding transforms the way we experience intimacy. As Ursula points out, “we were sold the idea that our pleasure had to be discovered by another, when in reality the discovery begins by exploring ourselves.” Pleasure is not given: it is recognized.
Each body has its own rhythm, its emotional biography, its way of feeling safe. Knowing this singularity is freeing ourselves from the foreign model that taught us to await approval before enjoyment.
Educating without guilt
If talking about pleasure still makes us uncomfortable, it is because we were educated in silence. Analía observes that “in educational spaces there is still fear of talking about pleasure, especially women’s pleasure.” This fear is transmitted from generation to generation, wrapped in euphemisms and myths.
Ursula synthesizes it with lucidity: “We cannot care for what we do not know, nor enjoy what we do not understand. Shame is born of silence.”
That is why we need comprehensive sex education that not only talks about reproduction but also about well-being, consent, and joy. Talking about the body is not indecency: it is reparation.
Desire as a circular experience
Female desire does not respond to a straight line of stimulus, arousal, and climax. “Our sexual response is circular,” Analía explains. “Sometimes intimacy comes first, then arousal, and then desire.”
Ursula complements: “More than a romantic connection, what we need is to feel safe in our vulnerability. To know that we can surrender without fear or judgment.”
Desire flourishes in trust, not in obligation. Calm, laughter, and unhurried contact are as erotic as any stimulus.
Reconciling with the body we have
“Before enjoying the body, you have to reconcile with it,” says Analía. “Look in the mirror, know the vulva, see it as something of your own and beautiful.” This simple practice can be profoundly transformative.
Ursula describes it as a gesture of honesty: “Undressing emotionally is linked to undressing physically. If we do not accept our folds and scars, we will hardly be able to feel free.”
Freedom is not born of perfection, but of presence. Of looking at ourselves without judgment, of being grateful for what we are.
Visible and invisible mutilations
Not all forms of repression are expressed with physical violence. “In some countries, genital mutilation seeks to prevent women from feeling pleasure,” Ursula recalls. “In the West, mutilation is symbolic: we are denied education about the clitoris and taught to feel guilt.”
Analía agrees: “There is psychological and cultural mutilation. We were taught not to touch or explore ourselves. This is how generations of sexually illiterate people are formed.”
Every conversation that disarms that taboo is a restitution. Every word spoken aloud gives us back the right to feel.
Self-stimulation and self-knowledge
Even the language with which we name pleasure can free or limit us. “The word masturbation comes from ‘to disturb with the hand’,” Analía explains. “I prefer to speak of self-stimulation. It is a practice of self-knowledge, not an act of guilt.”
Self-exploration teaches us to listen to the body carefully: to recognize what rhythm, texture, or movement awakens well-being. It is not imitation, but listening. “Our body already knows,” Ursula reminds us. “What is missing is learning to hear it without fear.”
Recovering the right to feel
Talking about pleasure naturally is a form of emancipation. As Analía says, “we need spaces to learn what was not taught and unlearn what harmed us.”
And as Ursula summarizes, “knowing our body is knowing our freedom. And that freedom begins when we stop silencing what belongs to us.”
Watch the complementary episode “Do You Truly Know Your Female Body?” on our YouTube channel: https://youtu.be/_Lfjy5qT-1M
