I have my clitoral hood pierced. Although not my super-primary motivation behind getting it, I very soon realized the empowering weight behind having this part of my body pierced.
In witnessing and experiencing all of the nasty violence that is nonconsensually perpetrated against vulvas, it is a powerful form of reclamation to be able to tell someone who is professional, supportive, and well-intentioned to stick a needle through my clitoral hood in a safe, female-positive environment. It hurt, but in a much more positive way than other things have.
Not only that, but the very act itself: being in control and having the autonomy to be able to do this to my body is pretty fucking significant. (Being a survivor of incest, may I say even more than I usually would about youth-lib things: fuck parental consent about choices concerning their children’s bodies; fuck that so much!)
Having this piercing is fun, fun, fun. It is the easiest piercing that I’ve ever had in terms of aftercare and lack of recurring infections (hay lip piercing fiascos), because 1.) this area of the body, go figure, is super-vascular, so the influx of blood flow promotes quick healing (about a week), and 2.) despite the lies fed to me through my twenty years of Western conditioning, the more intimate areas of the vulva are more or less self-cleaning (fuck douching), leaving me with little to do in terms of keeping the fresh piercing clean.
And fuck! It feels so good during sex, all the time! How great and empowering and fuck-you-everyone is that!?
Update: I had an orgasm while biking to the grocery store, thanks to that piercing. Yup.
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