I was 14 when a boy handed me a note in maths class with a question about my vulva that haunted me for years. Now I’m on a mission to make sure no other girls go through the same ordeal

I was fourteen when my journey with vulva anxiety began. 

Sitting in maths class, a boy handed me a note with a question that would haunt me for years: ‘Do you have an innie or an outie?’ 

And no, he wasn’t talking about belly buttons. 

At that age, I had never seen another vulva, so I had no idea where I sat on the vulva spectrum.

Through high school, the words that boys used to describe vulvas – ‘kebab,’ ‘upside-down volcano,’ ‘octopussy’ – further fuelled my self-doubt. 

I began to wonder: was my vulva weird? Was I abnormal? 

By the time I was in my early twenties, this anxiety had intensified to the point that I was considering labiaplasty, which involves the removal or altering of tissues from the labia, the folds of skin that sit on either side of a woman’s vaginal opening. 

I hoped surgery could ‘fix’ what I thought was wrong. 

I hoped surgery could ‘fix’ what I thought was wrong. 

I went so far as to book two consultations, and both surgeons were all too willing to proceed with the surgery without as much as looking at my vulva.

Ultimately, a consultation in India, where I was working at the time, saved me from undergoing labiaplasty. 

When I showed this doctor my vulva, he informed me that what I wanted surgically altered was completely ‘normal’. 

He explained to me that vulvas are all unique and that it’s normal not to have the ‘Barbie vagina’ that is portrayed in porn, movies and magazines.

He could have easily agreed to give me the Rolls-Royce of vulvas, but instead, he sent me away with the homework to research what real, unedited vulvas look like. 

I thought to myself, ‘If only there was a book of vulvas I could buy to help me’.

Inspired by this experience, I announced on Facebook in 2018 that I would be creating a coffee table book dedicated to photographs of vulvas to help educate the world about their beautiful diversity. 

I began photographing women’s vulvas and now, seven years later, my book Flip Through My Flaps: An Exploration of the Vulva is finally here. 

It features more than 500 vulvas alongside personal stories covering critical topics about women’s health from miscarriage to herpes, and body image.

While this journey was inspired by my experience with vulva anxiety, it’s no longer just a personal issue; it’s become a public health crisis. 

One in six Australian women are anxious or embarrassed about the way their labia looks, according to a study from Women’s Health Victoria. 

Sadly, this issue is even more pronounced with Gen Z, with one in four aged 18-24 facing vulva anxiety, and almost a third associating their labia with negative words such as ‘weird’, ‘disgusting’ or ‘ugly’.

One in ten Australians — equivalent to more than half a million women — say they have either had or considered having labiaplasty, which is now the fastest growing surgery in Australia.

This anxiety isn’t just an emotional burden; it can impact physical, mental, and sexual health. 

In fact, one in eight women admit to avoiding essential health appointments such as GP check-ups or pap smears because of embarrassment over their labia.

This underscores the need for greater education and acceptance, which is why Flip Through My Flaps: An Exploration of the Vulva is needed now more than ever. 

My hope is that the book fosters a new narrative around vulva diversity, one that is rooted in acceptance and self-love rather than shame and secrecy.

Through each photograph and story, I want to challenge the narrow ideals that have fuelled so many of us to question our bodies, helping others see what I discovered — that there is no ‘perfect’ vulva, only the one that belongs to you. 

By confronting this cultural silence and creating this resource, I hope we can cultivate a world where vulva anxiety is replaced with acceptance, self-love, and the freedom to celebrate our bodies just as they are.