Content warning: Descriptions of negative body image
What does it mean to “squirt”?
If you asked me in middle school, I would have told you that it meant females could ejaculate in a nearly identical manner to males. A few months ago, I thought — perhaps like many people — that it was a euphemism for a urination kink. I have met women who will tell you it’s not real, while also knowing men who worship the all-mighty feminine spritz. Even governments have weighed in on the conversation; in 2014, the U.K. banned squirting in porn due to its supposed misrepresentation of urination, which was later met with massive criticism claiming the law was sexist and not entirely adherent to science.
Some may argue that sex education, or a lack thereof, is the perpetrator of the discrepancies around squirting, but this perspective omits the massive knowledge gap present in existing literature on female anatomical function.
A centuries-long drought of scientific study on female bodies is the main reason our society is congested with differing ideas about the topic. Males have made up the majority, if not the totality, of clinical trial participants since the dawn of the scientific renaissance — male supremacy is so ingrained within research that even most mice studied are male. The scientific neglect of women has resulted in inadequate, incomplete and inconsistent data about the female body: How medicine is metabolized, what the leading causes of death are and how our reproductive systems function all remain, for the most part, a mystery.
Despite their exclusion from medicine, female bodies have not been completely ignored — sex work and sexual exploitation have created a fierce, insatiable appetite for women’s sexuality. Porn brings in an annual revenue equivalent to the amount that the U.S. government spends on foreign aid each year. With just one Google search, you can access thousands of women’s bodies for free. Nowadays, online pornographic content is often naively taken for educational material, as websites such as Pornhub arise as the leading space for sex education. Squirting, having risen 15 spots in Pornhub’s 2022 category rankings, has fallen victim to the false promise of porn education. The deceptive entertainment regularly features women urinating, though creators slap “squirting” onto the titles of such videos.
But why is a squirting woman so desirable? Perhaps, since males provide visual proof of pleasure through penile ejaculation, they desire equivalent proof from women — something to help them feel confident in their sexual performance. Or maybe the taboo nature of the act itself is thrilling to males and fuels the complexities of the Madonna-Whore complex. Regardless of how men theorize the mechanics, the fascination with the activity remains, and no matter what type of secretion a man thinks squirting is, there is pressure among women to provide.
Ever since I entered puberty, I’ve tirelessly pursued projects intended to form myself into the “ideal woman.” At one point, my life’s crowning achievement would have been to lose weight, while maintaining voluptuous assets (a social standard I would not endorse to anyone I love, yet admittedly try to fit into). In truth, I’ve probably spent hundreds of hours thinking of ways to mutilate and manipulate my body in order to be desirable and meet societal expectations — and forming an ability to squirt is among the potential options.
I spent many nights on the messy floor of my bedroom listening to podcasts in hopes that they’d give me instruction on how to be attractive and worthwhile for men. One night, I listened as porn star Chloe Cherry said that all one needs to do is drink a gallon of water in order to squirt — which intuitively implies that squirting releases clear pee. I was calmed by this; surely, I could consume some water! Without even a second thought, I’d risk falling ill due to water toxicity for a man. Months later, when I was listening to multiple discussions about squirting on the “We’re Having Gay Sex” podcast, my sense of comfort was ripped away. The podcast alluded to squirting being more of an involuntary release of liquid occurring during vaginal stimulation, which caused a familiar fear to flare: My body, as it is, may not be enough to satisfy.
Consequently, I redirected myself away from the anecdotal evidence of podcasts, since any information that can sway my self-esteem so drastically cannot possibly contain truly informative content, and instead moved to a scientific approach. Unfortunately, as aforementioned, the amount of research around the topic is limited; the lack of sufficient literature makes even existing hypotheses seem fallible at best and improperly representative at worst. However, studies thus far have led to the creation of two categories of female sexual excretion: squirting and female ejaculation. The first is a thin, transparent-to-yellowish liquid excreted from the urethra that can be up to hundreds of milliliters in volume. In contrast, female ejaculation involves a thick, milky-colored fluid secreted from the Skene’s Gland, also known as the “female prostate.” Female ejaculation usually only expels up to one milliliter in volume. Neither of these excretions is purely urine, but orgasmic urinary incontinence can occur simultaneously. Squirting also isn’t just a women’s game; a study from 2018 revealed that it is possible for men to squirt, as well. The research suggests that strong contractions from a male’s prostate following ejaculation can trigger secretions from the urethra that are akin to female squirting or female ejaculation.
Many women report feeling empowered when they squirt or ejaculate. A lot of them relish in turning a sexual “party trick” into a meditative method of connecting with their body. Zoë Ligon, a sex educator and journalist, hails squirting as “an affirmation that I’m a living, breathing, fertile creature” and “a very real and intense, worthwhile sexual experience.” Ligon posits an uplifting narrative that I wish to emphasize, mainly because so many women have experienced needless guilt around their sexuality. At the same time, she makes sure to assert that “people who squirt aren’t having ‘better sex’ than those who don’t” — a facet I also find crucial in squirting discourse.
Media, namely porn, showcases squirting as a feminine superpower, and while that does ring true for some, other women wrestle with feelings of discomfort around it and therefore elect to do it less — if at all. In one of the most recent studies published on the subject, some women expressed feeling gross after squirting, disliking the “wetting the bed” sensation and the ensuing chore of changing sheets. Additionally, without an opportunity for aftercare, which can regulate post-intercourse emotions, typically through comforting acts like cuddling, women noted that feelings of shame around themselves, their body and squirting were heightened.
I crave to be like the women who feel sexually liberated by the act. Yet, I am still mending my insecurities from my teenage years. I can occasionally hear the anxious voice in my mind that used to relentlessly ask: If I cannot display uncontrollable arousal, will I be a bad porn video, materialized, that men are unable to click away from? What will stop them from going back to their online activities when I cannot provide full satisfaction? These questions kept me chained to the mirror for hours and largely sustained my research about squirting over the years, although I’d love to pretend it was solely out of curiosity. Despite being in a relationship where our love feels safe and sacred, my body cannot forget the menacing pressures I once forced upon it. I constantly need to remind myself that my body is worthy and lovable in its present form.
I do not mean to express the notion that if one attempts to or does squirt, they are negatively feeding into societal standards. Rather, the pressure of the “correct” reaction and the “supposed to” feelings and visuals surrounding it need to be demolished so females can freely explore and share their bodies without the burden of expectation. Partners should meet one another where they are comfortable and willing with love, awe, acceptance and excitement for what the female body can be capable of.
I think women who celebrate their bodies and squirting have the right idea: They’re joyfully embracing a nourishing relationship with their bodies, maintaining an awareness of bodily sensations and taking pride in their anatomical knowledge. In order to have a world in which all can feel this way, I think the agenda should be threefold. Firstly, female bodies and squirting need to be intentionally studied in science, so there is a knowledgeable and complete consensus on how our bodies operate. I also believe that we need to amplify education around porn literacy so that the lines between entertainment and reality are distinct, and the capacities of women are not fictionalized to unattainable heights. Lastly — and this extends far beyond the conversation of squirting — we need to be champions of the body and fat liberation movement because this may be the only path to freedom from the standards placed upon our bodies. By weaving these efforts together, we’ll be able to foster a world where squirting is rendered demystified, without a barricade of shame, and can be swimmingly enjoyed by all parties who heartily choose to explore the water, while those who elect not to engage can continue a guilt-free, empowering sexual life.
Statement Columnist Mary-Kate Mahaney can be reached at mmahaney@umich.edu.