So fresh: The rise and fall of the douche
Held a douche recently? No, not the Adam Levine kind—the kind that claims to make you as fresh as a dewey spring morning. The kind that has been a part of some women’s hygiene routines for way too long.
Flip through an issue of Cosmopolitan magazine from the 1970s, and douche ads are as ubiquitous as perfume ads are today. Yes, before our culture convinced women that they needed to wax off all their God-given pubic hair, it convinced them that they needed to spray a liquid solution into the vagina to make one’s lady bits smell of sunshine.
Over time, doctors began to discourage douching, since it disrupts the vagina’s natural pH balance and can lead to a number of health problems. (Vaginas are self-cleaning!) Today, however, almost one in four women between the ages of 15 and 44 still douche, according to the Department of Health and Human Services.
How does one douche, exactly? Basically, you fill a special bag (yes, a douche bag) or flexible applicator with a special “cleansing solution.” You then insert the device’s nozzle into your vagina and squeeze.
For this week’s edition of #ThrowbackThursday, we explore the douche’s past and present—and in the video below, challenge Fusion staff to test their douching knowledge.
When did douching begin?Back in 1832, an American physician named Charles Knowlton suggested douching as a form of birth control. He advised that, after intercourse, women inject a syringe full of a water-based solution that included (but wasn’t limited to) salt, vinegar, liquid chloride, zinc sulfite, and aluminum potassium sulfite into their vagina. But as douching and other early birth control methods became more popular, the country saw some moral pushback. In 1873, as part of the “social purity movement,” Congress passed the Comstock Law, making it illegal to us the U.S. Postal Service to disseminate any information or paraphernalia regarding “erotica, contraceptives, abortifacients, or sex toys.”
Douches masquerade as ‘feminine hygiene’
Douching companies eventually found a devious way around the censorship—disguising the birth control method as “feminine hygiene.” In the mid-twentieth century, Lysol (yes, that Lysol) managed to circumvent the Comstock Law by marketing its product as a “germ killer.” Lysol’s ads basically told women that douches could solve their “one flaw” or “one neglect” and maintain what they called “daintiness.”