Ryan Reynolds (22:13)
So I am at a wedding and the guy next to me asks what I do for a living. And it's super loud, so I have to shout. I teach medical students how to give Preston pelvic exams. And usually people don't want to know any more than that. They'd kind of prefer to know less. But this guy's actually really interested. So I tell him a little bit more about what I do. I teach students the techniques to use that are the most comfortable and least disturbing, and then I have them practice on my body while I give them feedback. Now, I've worked really hard to make this description as clinical as possible because I don't want to make people uncomfortable, you know, when I first meet them. There's plenty of time for that. But this is like a Burning man type of crowd, and this guy has like a stuffed boy bird on his head, so I think he's cool. So when my boyfriend comes back from the bathroom and asks what we're talking about, I just say, my vagina job. And the birdman is delighted. So then his date comes back from the bathroom, and it's really loud, so I can't really hear what he's saying. But due to some hand gestures and the face that she's making, I'm pretty sure he's telling her what my job is. And after a minute, she kind of leans over and goes, why on earth would you want to do that? And that is a fair question. The short answer is because I'm okay with saying the word vagina in mixed company. And I want you to be, too, because a vagina is a body part like any other, and sometimes things go wrong with them. And if we can't talk about them, how can we Help them. And I guess the longer answer is, when I was in my 20s, my vagina was really determined to be talked about. If I was going to the doctor, it was my vagina's fault. And it was, you know, normally just like the usual UTIs, STD scares, yeast infections, things like that. But one time was really, really bad. The worst time, I had green discharge pain like you wouldn't fucking believe. And my labia swelled up to like 4 times their normal size, which is really fucking big. So I was 21. I was fucking terrified and ashamed. And all I needed almost more than medical care was someone to just look me in the face and say, I know this is scary, but I'm here to help and everything's gonna be okay. And instead I got someone who marched in cold as the exam room, jammed a couple fingers into me, and then got annoyed when I yelled out in pain. She didn't tell me what was wrong with me. She didn't tell me she could fix it. She didn't tell me how to avoid it in the future. So, you know, the five seconds it would take to say it's going to be okay was just far too frivolous. Instead, I just got a prescription and a kick out the door. I don't even know if she ever saw my face. Well, this face, anyways. I later learned that people who don't learn on people like me were called gynecological teaching associates or GTAs. The alternative is a plastic model, a corpse, or a patient who is still under anesthesia after surgery. When I found that out, I asked the person who told me, well, do those patients consent to that beforehand? He shrugged and said, I'm sure it's in the paperwork somewhere. What a fucked up thing to teach your students that a living, breathing person is no different from a corpse or a piece of plastic, as long as they're unconscious. So that's why I never really saw a lot of empathy. Or not often, because why waste empathy on someone you've already been trained to dehumanize? So after all of this, you might think, hadn't my vagina been through enough? And the answer is yes. But consider this. I am also largely unemployable. I have ADHD and a theater degree, so there are like a million things I'm great at that no one will pay me to do. So imagine those interviews. Can you make change? Oh, no, definitely not. Do you have any office skills? Not really. Will you show up on time? Almost never. But I am very kind and empathetic and if you need someone to be really vulnerable in front of a group of strangers, I will knock your socks off. Yeah, try putting that on LinkedIn. It doesn't go well. So most of the jobs I've had have been of the Are you willing to do this? Variety. And GTA ing is kind of like the ultimate. Are you willing to do this job? I mean, public speaking and strangers touch your genitals. Most people would rather go to grad school, but I am a weirdo, and I don't really care if people see me naked. I am fine with public speaking, and it's fine if people touch my genitals as long as I tell them to. It turns out that I'm also really good at other things, like making people feel comfortable in awkward situations and showing people the kind of compassion and patience and empathy that I wished that doctors had shown me. And let me tell you, these students, they need it because they are fucking terrified. It is not uncommon for students in GTA classes to pass out or throw up. It's only happened to me twice in, like, 13 years now. The first one was a young woman, and luckily somebody caught her pretty quickly. She came to relatively fast, had some water, went out and got some air, and eventually came back and got through the rest of the class like a champ. But she stayed behind afterwards, ostensibly to thank me for the work I was doing. And she admitted that she had only been to the gynecologist once when she was a teenager, and it had hurt so much. She had never been back. And she was clearly very ashamed of this. She knew it was important for her health. I wanted to help, so I offered her a speculum to take home and get used to and maybe use on herself so that she could see that it's. When done correctly, it's not a painful procedure. And she just kind of stopped me and said, I can't. I've never touched myself down there. I was afraid of hurting myself the way the doctor did. That is the level of trauma that a doctor can inflict without even trying. And that is the kind of damage that can be done in a society where people are afraid to say the word vagina. I was stunned and sorry, and I wanted to hug her and tell her that vaginas are awesome and orgasms are awesomer. And I was going to tell her everything she needed to know. And I would be the auntie mame of vaginas, and I would open doors for you, doors you never dreamed existed, but that would, like. That would be a Whole relationship mentorship thing. And she wasn't asking for that. So instead, I kind of was trying to come up with some helpful information to give her about maybe not poking the urethra, because that usually hurts me. And she stops me again and says, I actually was outside when you told us what everything is. Could you show me? And yes, I could fucking do that. Thank God. So I jumped up on the table and I showed her what everything was and told her what it did and what it was called. And she was just so relieved just to see a vulva and have it explained to her, like any other body part, because that's what it is. And I told her she should maybe go home and spend some time with a mirror and get to know her body a little bit better. And that's. That's really all she needed from me. She needed someone to look her in the face and say, I know this is scary, but I'm here to help you and it's going to be okay. That's really what all scared people need. And when it comes to genitals, there are a lot of really scared people. There is so much fear around intimacy. And like it or not, patient care is an intimate thing. You see people at their most vulnerable, their most naked. And if you can't at least acknowledge that, I don't think you can do it correctly. But I can do this. Well, the thing that I've always enjoyed about performing was creating intimacy, creating that connection, teaching people about themselves and about others, and feeling that discomfort that comes with vulnerability and just breathing into it. I am so happy to be in a job where all the things I thought were useless are now invaluable. And if you need someone to be vulnerable in front of a group of strangers, I will knock your fucking socks off.
