Why right-wingers shouldn't stop women saying "vagina"

Let's make a hoohah.

Tender reader, take a seat because I'm going to talk about something upsetting. Maybe "something" is a bit too vague. OK then, it's a fibromuscular tubular tract. Are you with me? What if I tell you it's a part of the female body? A sex organ? Fine, I'll just come out with it: VAGINA.

Still conscious? Then you have a more robust constitution than the Michigan State House, where Democratic Representative Lisa Brown was prevented from speaking after she used the V word in a debate about abortion. I mean, she wasn't just shouting "Vagina!" at the assembled legislature. This was definitely a context-appropriate use of the word.
 
All the same, it was too much for some, including Republican Representative Mike Callton. "It was so offensive, I don't even want to say it in front of women," he spluttered (I didn't hear him say it, but it sounds like the sort of thing that would be spluttered rather than just said). "I would not say that in mixed company." 
 
Of course, Callton was absolutely fine with the "mixed company" in question deciding what should happen to women's bodies – the bill being debated would ban all abortions after 20 weeks, with very limited exemptions where the mother's life is in danger. It was just the act of giving the physiologically accurate names to the parts of women's bodies that went too far for him.
 
The idea that an adult man could be distressed by the word "vagina" is hilarious, and also deeply sinister. Declaring the vagina unspeakable makes women's bodies unthinkable: in Michigan, the argument about reproductive rights proceeds as though the embryo were drifting about independently, rather than being carried within a woman who will have to give birth to and care for the eventual baby whether she wants to or not.
 
The lack of control that women have historically had over our reproductive organs is evident in the difficulty that we still have in naming them. Women are left hesitating between highly specific anatomical terms and The Worst Word In The Word, with a range of florid euphemisms in between. 
 
"Vagina" is a very useful word when you want to talk about the birth canal, but the part of the body you actually see is the lesser-mentioned vulva – that is, the exterior sexual organs including the clitoris. It's an essential distinction to be able to make, but it doesn't necessarily reflect the day-to-day user experience of owning female genitals, where the inside and outside seem like part of the same thing.
 
The V words are also quite formal, making using them a bit like addressing your own body by its surname. If you're potty training a girl toddler, telling her to "wipe her vagina" would be plain inaccurate and confusing, and yet many adults don't know (or aren't comfortable with) with the word "vulva". So instead, parents tend to fall back on euphemism – including the slightly tautological "front bottom". 
 
A bottom is at the bottom of your torso, obviously; saying "front bottom" makes it sound like we've resorted to Escher-ish tricks of perspective in order to conceal our ladybits. There are some colloquial alternatives – I've always quite liked "tuppence", ever since I heard a woman on the tram in Sheffield tell her stroller-bound toddler to "leave your flaming tuppence alone", and "fanny" has a good pedigree. But I still wasn't sure how to introduce my own daughter to her physiology on a friendly basis, so it was a relief when she volunteered the made-up word "nooni". 
 
For adults, the range is even wider – and stranger. There are the terms that imply violence and unease, ones that you'd never use about your own body like "axe wound", "gash" or "hairy clam". None of these are the kind of thing you could say to a lover – but then, the V words don't seem appropriate in that situation either. I'm inclined to agree with the person who told me, "During sex I'll accept 'pussy' but my preference is 'cunt'." 
 
The C-word is perhaps a bit strong for most situations – it's become more widely used in the last decade or so, but I don't remember hearing it until I was 18 (and can recall coming across the Bowdlerization "c***" in the NME and wondering urbanely why they'd starred out so mild a word as "crap"). But once you get used to it, there's something very pleasing about the way it fills the mouth from throat to teeth, and if anyone should get to wield that rhetorical power, I think by rights it ought to be the owner of the item.
 
But whether you've got a foof or a fandando, a growler or a ladygarden (or even an Iron Ladygarden), the important thing is that you're on first-name terms with it. As the Michigan incident tells us, those who want to control women's bodies also want to treat that body as an obscenity. The best answer to people like Mike Callton is simply to say the word: vagina, vagina, vagina.
The idea that an adult man could be distressed by the word "vagina" is hilarious

Sarah Ditum is a journalist who writes regularly for the Guardian, New Statesman and others. Her website is here.

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Inside Big Ben: why the world’s most famous clock will soon lose its bong

Every now and then, even the most famous of clocks need a bit of care.

London is soon going to lose one of its most familiar sounds when the world-famous Big Ben falls silent for repairs. The “bonging” chimes that have marked the passing of time for Londoners since 1859 will fall silent for months beginning in 2017 as part of a three-year £29m conservation project.

Of course, “Big Ben” is the nickname of the Great Bell and the bell itself is not in bad shape – even though it does have a huge crack in it.

The bell weighs nearly 14 tonnes and it cracked in 1859 when it was first bonged with a hammer that was way too heavy.

The crack was never repaired. Instead the bell was rotated one eighth of a turn and a lighter (200kg) hammer was installed. The cracked bell has a characteristic sound which we have all grown to love.

Big Ben strikes. UK Parliament.

Instead, it is the Elizabeth Tower (1859) and the clock mechanism (1854), designed by Denison and Airy, that need attention.

Any building or machine needs regular maintenance – we paint our doors and windows when they need it and we repair or replace our cars quite routinely. It is convenient to choose a day when we’re out of the house to paint the doors, or when we don’t need the car to repair the brakes. But a clock just doesn’t stop – especially not a clock as iconic as the Great Clock at the Palace of Westminster.

Repairs to the tower are long overdue. There is corrosion damage to the cast iron roof and to the belfry structure which keeps the bells in place. There is water damage to the masonry and condensation problems will be addressed, too. There are plumbing and electrical works to be done for a lift to be installed in one of the ventilation shafts, toilet facilities and the fitting of low-energy lighting.

Marvel of engineering

The clock mechanism itself is remarkable. In its 162-year history it has only had one major breakdown. In 1976 the speed regulator for the chimes broke and the mechanism sped up to destruction. The resulting damage took months to repair.

The weights that drive the clock are, like the bells and hammers, unimaginably huge. The “drive train” that keeps the pendulum swinging and that turns the hands is driven by a weight of about 100kg. Two other weights that ring the bells are each over a tonne. If any of these weights falls out of control (as in the 1976 incident), they could do a lot of damage.

The pendulum suspension spring is especially critical because it holds up the huge pendulum bob which weighs 321kg. The swinging pendulum releases the “escapement” every two seconds which then turns the hands on the clock’s four faces. If you look very closely, you will see that the minute hand doesn’t move smoothly but it sits still most of the time, only moving on each tick by 1.5cm.

The pendulum swings back and forth 21,600 times a day. That’s nearly 8m times a year, bending the pendulum spring. Like any metal, it has the potential to suffer from fatigue. The pendulum needs to be lifted out of the clock so that the spring can be closely inspected.

The clock derives its remarkable accuracy in part from the temperature compensation which is built into the construction of the pendulum. This was yet another of John Harrison’s genius ideas (you probably know him from longitude fame). He came up with the solution of using metals of differing temperature expansion coefficient so that the pendulum doesn’t change in length as the temperature changes with the seasons.

In the Westminster clock, the pendulum shaft is made of concentric tubes of steel and zinc. A similar construction is described for the clock in Trinity College Cambridge and near perfect temperature compensation can be achieved. But zinc is a ductile metal and the tube deforms with time under the heavy load of the 321kg pendulum bob. This “creeping” will cause the temperature compensation to jam up and become less effective.

So stopping the clock will also be a good opportunity to dismantle the pendulum completely and to check that the zinc tube is sliding freely. This in itself is a few days' work.

What makes it tick

But the truly clever bit of this clock is the escapement. All clocks have one - it’s what makes the clock tick, quite literally. Denison developed his new gravity escapement especially for the Westminster clock. It decouples the driving force of the falling weight from the periodic force that maintains the motion of the pendulum. To this day, the best tower clocks in England use the gravity escapement leading to remarkable accuracy – better even than that of your quartz crystal wrist watch.

In Denison’s gravity escapement, the “tick” is the impact of the “legs” of the escapement colliding with hardened steel seats. Each collision causes microscopic damage which, accumulated over millions of collisions per year, causes wear and tear affecting the accuracy of the clock. It is impossible to inspect the escapement without stopping the clock. Part of the maintenance proposed during this stoppage is a thorough overhaul of the escapement and the other workings of the clock.

The Westminster clock is a remarkable icon for London and for England. For more than 150 years it has reminded us of each hour, tirelessly. That’s what I love about clocks – they seem to carry on without a fuss. But every now and then even the most famous of clocks need a bit of care. After this period of pampering, “Big Ben” ought to be set for another 100 or so years of trouble-free running.

The Conversation

Hugh Hunt is a Reader in Engineering Dynamics and Vibration at the University of Cambridge.

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.