From the archives of Carl Sagan

“From this masculine vantage point, the vulva might not seem of any particular interest. But for women, it’s different. Consider again that clit. That’s sensitive. That’s pleasure. And from the vagina everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, was birthed into life. The aggregate of our joy and suffering; thousands of sexually repressed religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines; every hunter and forager; every hero and coward; every creator and consumer of porn; every drag queen and king; every young couple in love; every mother- and father-fucker, horny teen, sub and dom; every teacher of oral; every scandalous politician; every “pornstar”; every “sexpert”; every saint and sinner in the history of our species came from there — a small orifice in a frail mammal.

“The vulva is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of cum spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and triumph they could have a moment of intimacy with hardly any attention to the clit. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the children of one these organs on the scarcely distinguishable children of some other organ. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that large genitals have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this fold of soft flesh. Our dicks are lonely shadows in the great enveloping vaginal light. In our flaccidness — against all this voluptuousness — there is no hint that we could reproduce by ejaculating into other orifices.

“The uterus is the only method known, so far, for humans to create life. There is nothing else, at least in the near future, with which our species could reproduce. Orgasm: yes. Gestate: not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the uterus is how we make our babies. It has been said that biology is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than our treatment of this little organ. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with our sisters and lovers, and to preserve and cherish the pale pink dot, the only mother we’ve ever known.”

“That’s great, Carl, but you still have to wear a condom.”

“Shit.”