ABSTRACT
Early 1990s: we gather for our bi-monthly women’s group meeting at Carla’s place. These are informal dinners where we chat about our lives, about any issues that come up. Andrea, a general practitioner, has a topic to discuss: the female condom, new on the Amsterdam market. She is eager to know what we think about it. Should she advise her patients to use it? We view the large plastic thing and read the leaflet on how to insert it with curiosity. Why is it so big? Does it cover your clitoris? We could hardly imagine sexual pleasure using it. And would it let men off the hook? We were the post-sexual revolution generation that, rather than embracing the contraceptive pill for its liberatory potential, questioned its long-term safety. We preferred barrier methods such as the diaphragm and the male condom; the latter also had the advantage of preventing sexually transmitted infections while returning to men some responsibility for sexual health. Despite our negative reactions, Andrea said that she would try it. The next time we met she reported: it’s really distracting, and so noisy.
