Welcome to “Doing It,” a candid column by sex educator Varuna Srinivasan that explores the intricate ties between sexuality and emotional well-being. This month, Srinivasan dives deep into the multifaceted experience of orgasming for individuals with vulvas, unearthing the often complex and varied nature of this bodily response. If you have questions or stories related to this topic, you’re encouraged to share them. It’s important to recognize that when it comes to sexual pleasure and orgasms, experiences can be wildly different, shaped by factors ranging from anatomy to emotional connections.
The way orgasms are perceived culturally can vary significantly between genders. For those who possess a penis, the imagery surrounding climax is often straightforward—a defined moment leading to ejaculation and then a typical physical response of decreased arousal. In sharp contrast, those with vulvas may express confusion regarding their orgasms. As noted by sex educator Niki Davis-Fainbloom, many people find it challenging to determine whether they have genuinely experienced an orgasm. While some might conclude that if they’re questioning their experience, they likely haven’t reached climax, the truth is that for individuals with vulvas, the experience of orgasm can be incredibly diverse, encompassing a range of sensations and emotional reactions.
Factors influencing this variability in orgasmic experiences include anatomy—the physical distance between the clitoris and vaginal opening, for example—as well as age, hormonal levels, types of stimulation, the context of the sexual encounter, and even the nature of interpersonal relationships. This complexity can add layers of confusion or intrigue to an already personal and intimate experience. Consequently, many people may find themselves feeling unsure about what they should expect from their own orgasmic feelings, leading to questions and misconceptions about their sexual responses.
Reflecting on my own experiences, I recall being just 19 years old, surrounded by the cultural narratives that shape our understanding of sex and pleasure. At the time, I was blissfully unaware of the reality that orgasms didn’t always mirror the sensationalized portrayals seen in movies—where women frequently seem to reach intense climaxes during penetrative sex. So when my friend Sara shared her account of her first orgasm, my expectations were skewed by those exaggerated depictions. I imagined a dramatic scene filled with ecstatic cries and overwhelming pleasure as a result of sexual intercourse. Her experience, however, was remarkably different and much more intimate.
Sara described her first orgasm as a subtle, yet powerful moment that involved a gentle tingling in her groin, a sudden rush of energy, and an overwhelming feeling of warmth and comfort that enveloped her. Intriguingly, this profound moment of climax didn’t emerge from a wild night of passionate sexual escapades, but rather from a sweet, relaxed session of making out with her boyfriend. I was surprised by her account because it shattered my preconceived ideas about what could lead to orgasm—illustrating that pleasure can be rooted in emotional connection, rather than just physical action.
This enlightening realization soon led me to reflect on my own past. Sara’s story made me recognize that I too had previously experienced an orgasm, albeit without fully understanding it at the time. It dismantled the myth that significant escalation in a sexual interaction was the only route to climax. I realized that orgasm is not standardized; it can stem from various forms of sexual expression, emotional intimacy, and intimate exchanges, challenging societal norms and personal expectations about what it means to be sexually satisfied. Ultimately, the experience of orgasm is deeply personal and varies widely; it emphasizes the importance of communication and understanding the complexities of our bodies and experiences.
