Pussy Workshop Workshop, A Sacred Space of Connection
The Pussy Worship Workshop was a space for vulva owners to reconnect with their bodies, explore the stories we carry, and reclaim the parts of ourselves that have been hidden or shamed. It was intimate, powerful, and deeply grounding.
We laughed, shared, and sat in the rawness of it all.
As part of the experience, I asked each participant two simple, but powerful questions:
What is your relationship with your body?
And what would you tell your younger self?
With their permission, here are some of the reflections they offered — honest, tender, and deeply human stories shared within the workshop and across the festival grounds.
Meow – Still learning to listen
Meow described their relationship with their body as authoritarian, the mind constantly overriding what the body actually needs. There’s a history of self-harm, disordered eating, and a hyper-focus on certain body parts. The mirror becomes a checklist. They’re trying to shift that internal voice — from “thin” to “strong,” from control to health but the mind often resists.
Sex is complex, heteronormative scripts run deep. They feel shy, guard their body, and struggle to voice what they need. Even when they’re asking, “Are you okay?” they’re wondering — but am I?
Much of their body story centres on the face — not feeling beautiful, not feeling like they have “natural beauty.” They said, “I feel ugly.” It’s the male gaze, internalised so deeply they can objectively assess where they “stand,” but never quite feel okay.
What they’d tell their younger self:
Others will think your vitiligo is cool. Don’t be ashamed of your legs. You’ll get compliments on your arse and tits (still wondering why not the tummy though).
One day, you’ll walk through a hippy festival with no shirt on — and you won’t care.
You’ll feel sexy in fewer clothes.
Emilio – Reclaiming power and self-expression
Emilio shared how their relationship with their body is improving, but it’s taken work. They grew up in an image-focused community and internalised the male gaze early on — constantly aware of how their body looked, especially in motion. Attention to body shape, to presence, to presentation, it’s been exhausting.
They spoke about disorganised eating pattern. There’s been a lot of unlearning, especially around how they see their stomach. They’re working on not holding it in, letting it be free, and loving it as it is.
These days, Emilio embraces their hairy legs and armpits. They’re learning to live more from the centre — to shift their focus from how others (especially men) might view them to how they feel in their body. They brought a pile of clothes to Kiwiburn and are figuring out the balance between comfort and sexy.
They feel most empowered when they’re twerking — really feeling into their booty, their hips, and their own pleasure. The kaupapa? Do it for yourself.
What they’d tell their younger self:
You don’t need to change yourself for anyone.
You can eat what you want and feel good about it.
You were a little stick peg who wanted to be bigger — and now it’s flipped. It’s okay. Every size is beautiful.
Esther- Reclaiming intimacy
Mostly proud of my body, but sometimes I apologise for it, like if someone touches me, I worry my skin’s too dry or I’m too bony. Before sex, I feel shame about my vulva. I disclose it’s big, my inner labia hangs and seems too big to me. I’ve looked at others online and feel like mine isn’t the “normal” neat vulva we’re conditioned to expect.
This stops me from being intimate and initiating sex, especially with men. I wonder, will they think something negative? No one’s ever said anything, but I put pressure on myself.
A friend at camp said: Don’t be so hard on yourself — we’re already fighting capitalism and patriarchy. Are you on their side?
What they’d tell their younger self: That the things they were ashamed of would become their power.
Libby – Strength in self-acceptance
Libby grew up with missionary parents and stayed a virgin for a long time — not for religious reasons, but to protect themselves. They shared they’re asexual and “very gay,” and carried shame around being attracted to women.
Their first sexual experience was non-consensual, following years of domestic abuse.
There’s been so much shame — around their body, their gender, and not looking like what others expect a woman to look like. For a long time, they didn’t feel strong enough.
Then came circus. Through physical strength and movement, Libby started to reclaim their body. Identifying as non-binary, building defined muscles, embracing gender expression. Tattoos became a big part of their healing. The night before one tattoo session, they dreamed of their abuser — the tattoo marked a shift. It became a symbol of reclaiming and accepting themselves.
What they’d tell their younger self:
You’re already strong enough.
And it’s not your fault.
Pickles -Learning to love every part
Pickles has learned to embrace their body, especially the muscles they’ve built through strength training. Raised in a nudist household, they have a healthy body image but struggle with internal issues like IBS. Their journey is one of balancing internal and external health.
What they’d tell their younger self:
That beauty comes in all forms and that they didn’t need to fight their body.
Pascal -Fluidity in gender and self-expression
Pascal’s body relationship is shaped by their non-binary identity, and the changes they’ve experienced with and without testosterone. They’ve faced difficulties with self-image and societal expectations but are learning to embrace the beauty of their femininity, even within the discomfort of not fully fitting into either gender box.
What they’d tell their younger self:
they were allowed to take up space and share their voice.
Shelz- Healing through self-acceptance
Shelz shared that her relationship with her body has always felt pretty shit. Sitting in a circle of vulva owners, she told us she felt uncomfortable — belly exposed, constantly aware of the societal narratives around being bigger-bodied. That inner voice was loud, reminding her she didn’t feel happy in her skin.
She was wearing just a bra and small shorts — minimal clothing — and while she was pushing herself to feel more comfortable, it still didn’t come easily. She noticed others looking confident, but couldn’t quite feel that confidence in herself.
Eighteen months ago, she had a hysterectomy after enduring heavy periods that lasted up to ten days. At 45, she’s adjusting to a body that has changed, and grieving the reality of not being able to have more children. She spoke about the challenge of feeling like others are judging, even when she knows they probably aren’t.
What she would tell her younger self is already tattooed on her skin:
Don’t dream your life. Live your life.
A closing reflection
I feel all our stories about our bodies and experiences are so important and valid — especially in a world that tells us we need to shrink or fit into a mould just to be loved, liked, or even considered.
This workshop was a small step — a moment to slow down, listen, and in a group setting, truly be heard and witnessed. The good, the not-so-good. To lift each other up, and see each other for the raw, beautiful beings we are.
All our stories are valid. All our stories are worthy.
When the Art Doesn’t Flow
After the workshop, I felt an urge to create — to honour these stories through art. I was filled with inspiration. But every time I tried to translate it into something visual, nothing felt right. I’ve been in a creative block — not from a lack of ideas, but from the weight of how much these stories mean to me.
Every attempt has felt flat. Frustrating. Unfinished.
But I’ve learned this too is part of the process. Some art takes time to find its form. And right now, I’m trusting that what I’m meant to create will come — when it’s ready, and when I am.
So I keep showing up. I keep trying. Because these stories deserve to be seen.
A Little More of the Magic
The photos featured here are of me at Kiwiburn. I fashioned an apron to wear, complete with little artworks tied to it, which I gifted to others as part of Kiwiburn’s beautiful gifting culture. Naturally, I filled it with boob and vulva art to give away, because what better way to spark joy and start conversations?
The other photo shows the Pussy Altar I created for the workshop, a space layered with stickers, colour, and art, where participants could gather, reflect, and take something meaningful home.
Because connection, creativity, and celebration, that’s the real worship.
The Pussy Worship Workshop was a space for vulva owners to reconnect with their bodies, explore the stories we carry, and reclaim the parts of ourselves that have been hidden or shamed. It was intimate, powerful, and deeply grounding.
We laughed, shared, and sat in the rawness of it all.
As part of the experience, I asked each participant two simple, but powerful questions:
What is your relationship with your body?
And what would you tell your younger self?
With their permission, here are some of the reflections they offered — honest, tender, and deeply human stories shared within the workshop and across the festival grounds.
Meow – Still learning to listen
Meow described their relationship with their body as authoritarian, the mind constantly overriding what the body actually needs. There’s a history of self-harm, disordered eating, and a hyper-focus on certain body parts. The mirror becomes a checklist. They’re trying to shift that internal voice — from “thin” to “strong,” from control to health but the mind often resists.
Sex is complex, heteronormative scripts run deep. They feel shy, guard their body, and struggle to voice what they need. Even when they’re asking, “Are you okay?” they’re wondering — but am I?
Much of their body story centres on the face — not feeling beautiful, not feeling like they have “natural beauty.” They said, “I feel ugly.” It’s the male gaze, internalised so deeply they can objectively assess where they “stand,” but never quite feel okay.
What they’d tell their younger self:
Others will think your vitiligo is cool. Don’t be ashamed of your legs. You’ll get compliments on your arse and tits (still wondering why not the tummy though).
One day, you’ll walk through a hippy festival with no shirt on — and you won’t care.
You’ll feel sexy in fewer clothes.
Emilio – Reclaiming power and self-expression
Emilio shared how their relationship with their body is improving, but it’s taken work. They grew up in an image-focused community and internalised the male gaze early on — constantly aware of how their body looked, especially in motion. Attention to body shape, to presence, to presentation, it’s been exhausting.
They spoke about disorganised eating pattern. There’s been a lot of unlearning, especially around how they see their stomach. They’re working on not holding it in, letting it be free, and loving it as it is.
These days, Emilio embraces their hairy legs and armpits. They’re learning to live more from the centre — to shift their focus from how others (especially men) might view them to how they feel in their body. They brought a pile of clothes to Kiwiburn and are figuring out the balance between comfort and sexy.
They feel most empowered when they’re twerking — really feeling into their booty, their hips, and their own pleasure. The kaupapa? Do it for yourself.
What they’d tell their younger self:
You don’t need to change yourself for anyone.
You can eat what you want and feel good about it.
You were a little stick peg who wanted to be bigger — and now it’s flipped. It’s okay. Every size is beautiful.
Esther- Reclaiming intimacy
Mostly proud of my body, but sometimes I apologise for it, like if someone touches me, I worry my skin’s too dry or I’m too bony. Before sex, I feel shame about my vulva. I disclose it’s big, my inner labia hangs and seems too big to me. I’ve looked at others online and feel like mine isn’t the “normal” neat vulva we’re conditioned to expect.
This stops me from being intimate and initiating sex, especially with men. I wonder, will they think something negative? No one’s ever said anything, but I put pressure on myself.
A friend at camp said: Don’t be so hard on yourself — we’re already fighting capitalism and patriarchy. Are you on their side?
What they’d tell their younger self: That the things they were ashamed of would become their power.
Libby – Strength in self-acceptance
Libby grew up with missionary parents and stayed a virgin for a long time — not for religious reasons, but to protect themselves. They shared they’re asexual and “very gay,” and carried shame around being attracted to women.
Their first sexual experience was non-consensual, following years of domestic abuse.
There’s been so much shame — around their body, their gender, and not looking like what others expect a woman to look like. For a long time, they didn’t feel strong enough.
Then came circus. Through physical strength and movement, Libby started to reclaim their body. Identifying as non-binary, building defined muscles, embracing gender expression. Tattoos became a big part of their healing. The night before one tattoo session, they dreamed of their abuser — the tattoo marked a shift. It became a symbol of reclaiming and accepting themselves.
What they’d tell their younger self:
You’re already strong enough.
And it’s not your fault.
Pickles -Learning to love every part
Pickles has learned to embrace their body, especially the muscles they’ve built through strength training. Raised in a nudist household, they have a healthy body image but struggle with internal issues like IBS. Their journey is one of balancing internal and external health.
What they’d tell their younger self:
That beauty comes in all forms and that they didn’t need to fight their body.
Pascal -Fluidity in gender and self-expression
Pascal’s body relationship is shaped by their non-binary identity, and the changes they’ve experienced with and without testosterone. They’ve faced difficulties with self-image and societal expectations but are learning to embrace the beauty of their femininity, even within the discomfort of not fully fitting into either gender box.
What they’d tell their younger self:
they were allowed to take up space and share their voice.
Shelz- Healing through self-acceptance
Shelz shared that her relationship with her body has always felt pretty shit. Sitting in a circle of vulva owners, she told us she felt uncomfortable — belly exposed, constantly aware of the societal narratives around being bigger-bodied. That inner voice was loud, reminding her she didn’t feel happy in her skin.
She was wearing just a bra and small shorts — minimal clothing — and while she was pushing herself to feel more comfortable, it still didn’t come easily. She noticed others looking confident, but couldn’t quite feel that confidence in herself.
Eighteen months ago, she had a hysterectomy after enduring heavy periods that lasted up to ten days. At 45, she’s adjusting to a body that has changed, and grieving the reality of not being able to have more children. She spoke about the challenge of feeling like others are judging, even when she knows they probably aren’t.
What she would tell her younger self is already tattooed on her skin:
Don’t dream your life. Live your life.
A closing reflection
I feel all our stories about our bodies and experiences are so important and valid — especially in a world that tells us we need to shrink or fit into a mould just to be loved, liked, or even considered.
This workshop was a small step — a moment to slow down, listen, and in a group setting, truly be heard and witnessed. The good, the not-so-good. To lift each other up, and see each other for the raw, beautiful beings we are.
All our stories are valid. All our stories are worthy.
When the Art Doesn’t Flow
After the workshop, I felt an urge to create — to honour these stories through art. I was filled with inspiration. But every time I tried to translate it into something visual, nothing felt right. I’ve been in a creative block — not from a lack of ideas, but from the weight of how much these stories mean to me.
Every attempt has felt flat. Frustrating. Unfinished.
But I’ve learned this too is part of the process. Some art takes time to find its form. And right now, I’m trusting that what I’m meant to create will come — when it’s ready, and when I am.
So I keep showing up. I keep trying. Because these stories deserve to be seen.
A Little More of the Magic
The photos featured here are of me at Kiwiburn. I fashioned an apron to wear, complete with little artworks tied to it, which I gifted to others as part of Kiwiburn’s beautiful gifting culture. Naturally, I filled it with boob and vulva art to give away, because what better way to spark joy and start conversations?
The other photo shows the Pussy Altar I created for the workshop, a space layered with stickers, colour, and art, where participants could gather, reflect, and take something meaningful home.
Because connection, creativity, and celebration, that’s the real worship.
