Content warning: Racism
I can’t remember how it started. There was no inciting incident that compelled me to question my labia. Perhaps because I was raised by lesbian parents with a strong hippie persuasion, and (radical) feminist ideology being passed around the dining table as if it were bread and butter. I was always encouraged to explore my body and I’d never had any doubts that my vulva or labia were in any way abnormal, or something to be embarrassed about.
Yet one day, during my year exchange at Otago University, I found myself asking my walking-library flatmate if she thought my labia might be slightly different from “the norm” due to my higher testosterone levels (I was being assessed for PCOS and had just received blood results). We did some Googling and, as it turns out, genital size and growth is very complicated. What we did find was that, immediately, we were plastered with labiaplasty advertisements. After another quick Google (and another suite of ads), we learned that labiaplasty, like my testosterone, has been on the rise.
As someone who’d always felt somewhat indifferent about my genitals, this shocked me. Who was doing this? And why were they doing it?
My first thought: I need to collect data.
I asked my close friends from overseas and my new Kiwi friends to send me measurements of their labia minora. People were keen, excited to take part in something new involving parts of their bodies usually reserved for either alcohol-infused yarns in the early hours of the morning or moments of privacy. So, they brought them out (figuratively, to begin with) into the open.
It turns out (most) people love talking about their genitals once you get the ball rolling. The more people we spoke to and the more research we did, the more apparent it became that there was this “ideal” vulva presented in the media. You know the type: tucked-in, thin lips, uniform and symmetrical, probably smells like roses, and it’s definitely pink. The ‘Perfect Pussy’, if you will. Where did this ‘Perfect Pussy’ come from, and why won’t it go away? Together, we set out to penetrate the problem head-on.
Dreaming of the ‘Perfect Pussy’
What makes the origin story of the ‘Perfect Pussy’ exceptionally complicated is the fact that the concept cannot be traced back to a single trigger point. There is no one creepy white guy from 18th-century England or one labia-hating ancient civilisation to spitefully curse, fist in the air at the wind. Instead, the ‘Perfect Pussy’ finds its roots in racist, sexist ideologies of a bygone era, which serve to be equally relevant today as they were in their archaic beginnings.
From the Renaissance through the 20th century, European doctors repeatedly claimed that large or visible labia were unique to African women who were exhibited publicly as examples of what European women should not look like. One infamous example was Sarah Baartman as the “Hottentot Venus” in 19th-century London. Eugenicists later used these ideas to argue that visible labia in white women signalled “racial degeneration”. Around the same time, American gynaecologists began spreading the idea that “enlarged” labia were acquired through masturbation – at the time viewed as a sign of severe sexual deviance.
None of this is true. While forms of labia elongation have been (and still are) practised stylistically in some African tribes, modern science has found no link between labia size and ethnicity or masturbation habits. Despite this, these ideas have quietly persisted, woven into culture and endlessly reproduced in medical literature until they eventually filtered into the media we consume today. The original justifications are long forgotten, but the ideal of the ‘Perfect Pussy’ remains steadfast in the collective imagination.
The ‘Perfect Pussy’ or the ‘Porn Pussy’?
No doubt porn plays a big role perpetuating the idea of the ‘Perfect Pussy’. The “tucked-in” look is hugely overrepresented in pornographic imagery; those who don’t fit it often face criticism (adult performer Bonnie Blue being a timely example). And like labiaplasty, porn consumption is rising. With content now spilling from dedicated sites into social media feeds, it has become nearly unavoidable, and studies show that seeing it directly influences how we perceive our genitals.
On the question of whether porn is driving the demand for labiaplasty – at the surface level, yes. Interviews with doctors in the early 2000s revealed that women would often turn up to labiaplasty consultations with airbrushed clippings from soft porn magazines as reference pics (we’re looking at you, Playboy), and surveys consistently show the number one reason women request labiaplasty is aesthetics, not medical need.
Porn isn’t the only factor. Decades before Pornhub graced our screens, doctors were already noting that the culture of silence around women’s genitals was allowing insecurity to take root. The harsh truth? When it comes to judging labia, we are often our own worst critics. In one study, when asked to rate vulvas before and after labiaplasty, women consistently rated the “tucked-in” look as more attractive and more normal than men or non-binary participants. The ‘Perfect Pussy’ isn’t just in porn; it’s in our heads.
The evidence is clear: we’re betraying ourselves. The fact is, many women feel insecure about their perfectly normal labia, simply because they rarely get to see more than their own and what porn shows. We know porn doesn’t show the full range and, unlike men who’ve had literal dick-measuring contests since the beginning of time, women tend to keep it tucked away. So what does the full range look like?
The Cliterature Review
With this in mind, we set out on a mission to survey the full diversity of labia at Otago. Critic Te Ārohi asked students and staff alike to sit down, spread their legs, and start measuring in the name of science – and well, curiosity.
The results were eye-opening. Labia of all shapes, sizes, colours, and combinations revealed a diverse line-up among the 88 responses. Some tucked, some protruding; some wide, some narrow. Shades ranged from “Smithells Gym pink” to “Octagon-brick brown”; and “Charlotte Tilbury Pillow Talk” (twice) to “Nyx Hydra Honey”.
When asked to choose a shape that best represented their labia, responses were evenly spread across all six categories – from secretive to splayed. Labia widths ranged from just under half a centimetre to just over six, and lengths from two to ten. And to our surprise, protrusion was super common. Around 60% said their inner labia peeked out at least a little, while just over a third were entirely tucked in.
One thing was clear: there is no “normal” when it comes to labia. Even within our admittedly small, Beezie-based sample, variation was the rule. Despite being surrounded by this diversity, nearly 60% of respondents said they had, at some point, felt their labia weren’t normal – and almost half wanted to change them. Negative comments – whether from peers, partners, or doctors – were also shockingly common, usually focused on size or protrusion.
If nearly half of us want to change something that’s clearly perfectly normal, the problem isn’t our labia – it’s the narrow lens through which we’ve been taught to see them.
Closing the Lips on Perfection
There is no ‘Perfect Pussy’. Every pussy is perfect, and in fact, normal. Some are small, some large; some tucked, some protruding. Think of it like a political compass for your genitals, and in this case, you should be proud no matter where you sit. Of course, unlearning the ‘Perfect Pussy’ won’t happen overnight, but we think it’s worth the work.
It’s clear that education is everything, and representation matters. Since most schools seldom venture beyond basic textbook diagrams, and porn is rarely going to reassure us that we’re normal, it’s up to us (as labia-owners) to be the educators of friends, family, partners, but most importantly – ourselves.
It’s crucial that people – especially young women – are introduced to a real spectrum of vulvas early on, whether through education, medical resources, or accessible image databases. Exposure to diverse anatomy not only corrects false ideals but also protects against the psychological harm of erasure.
We need to see labia. We need to talk about them, and we need to strip away the embarrassment around our perfectly normal, beautiful bodies. It’s time to abolish the “ideal” and celebrate the diversity.
Authors’ note: We hope that by showing Otago’s full spectrum – pink, brown, tucked, protruding, symmetrical, asymmetrical, narrow, wide, short, long, and everything in between – you might find it a little easier to embrace your own unique labia. And if you would like to help us capture more of the diversity of labia at Otago, and learn a little more about yourself along the way, come take our survey – we’d love to hear all about your lips! Fill out the survey here to take part. You will also find links to four web projects that are committed to providing the world with a vast array of vulvas, belonging to bodies of all different shapes, sizes, and colours.