Mirror on the wall: Have you every really looked at your own vulva?

Brecht Rutgers van der Loeff is the founder of Pleisterplaats Levenskunst in Leiden. In her studio, she guides people in making unique body casts. Her work touches on intimacy, body awareness, shame and the art of meeting yourself. With attention, curiosity and without judgement. Here, she tells us about the connection between you and your own vulva.

We live our whole lives in the same body. We care for it, use it, feel with it, enjoy it. And yet there are parts of ourselves we barely know. Our vulva, for example.

When was the last time you really looked at your vulva? Not to check whether everything’s okay, not to judge or improve something, but simply out of curiosity. For many women, that doesn’t come naturally at all. We grow up with all kinds of ideas about what a woman’s body should look like. Through the media, porn, beauty ideals and sometimes also through what was never talked about at home.

But what does a normal vulva actually look like?

The answer is surprisingly simple: there’s no single normal appearance. Vulvas differ in colour, shape, size, hair and asymmetry. The inner labia can stick out or be barely visible. They can be smooth, wrinkled, light pink or dark brown. Just like our faces, our vulvas are all different.

Still, many women compare themselves to an image that shows only a small part of that reality. And when you’ve seen very few different vulvas, it’s easy to start thinking yours is different. That something isn’t right. Or that it could be prettier. That’s how shame can quietly develop about something that is completely natural.

Sexologist Ellen Laan and her colleagues studied what happens when women look at images of natural, diverse vulvas. In a study of 43 women, those who were shown a range of vulvas felt more positive about their own genitals afterwards. That effect was still there two weeks later. A larger study from 2025, involving 563 women, also found indications that looking at diverse vulvas can improve genital self-image, especially in the short term. Whether that change lasts is not yet clear.

A remarkable discovery. Because apparently just seeing natural diversity can change something in how we see ourselves. So maybe it’s not our bodies we need to change, but the images we compare ourselves to.

In my studio in Leiden, I make casts of vulvas. A tangible, three-dimensional representation of a very intimate part of the body. But what happens in my studio is about much more than making a work of art.

A casting session is a meeting with yourself.

We take our time. There’s room for curiosity, conversation, silence and whatever comes up. It’s not just about looking, but also very much about feeling and experiencing. That experience is different for every woman. One comes out of curiosity, another wants to celebrate her body or mark an important stage of life. Sometimes shame plays a part, sometimes a longing to reconnect with her own body. When women see their cast for the first time, their reactions can vary a lot. Sometimes they’re moved. Deeply touched in a way that can’t immediately be put into words. Sometimes there’s joy, playfulness and wonder. And often there’s that beautiful moment of recognition: yes, this is me.

But feelings that haven’t quite found their place yet can come up too. Memories, insecurity or sadness. That’s part of it as well. What’s special is that nothing has to change. Nothing has to be prettier, smaller, tighter or different. The cast shows what is there. And that’s exactly where space can open up to see yourself with new eyes.

We’re used to looking at our bodies in terms of what could be better. We judge, compare and correct. As if our body is an ongoing project that needs work. 

But what happens when you stop doing that? That doesn’t mean you have to find everything about yourself beautiful. Self-love can quietly turn into a new task too. Yet another thing you have to succeed at. Maybe a loving relationship with your body starts much more simply. With attention. With feeling. With the willingness to look with curiosity at what’s there, without immediately having to have an opinion about it.

So grab a mirror. Take your time. Look without rushing and discover what you see and feel. You might meet something in yourself you’ve never stopped to notice before. Because you don’t have to find your body beautiful first in order to look at it with love.