ARTWORK IN FOCUS: you say uterus; i say universe
collage self-portrait by anna sansom
When I say I’m queer, I’m talking about more than my sexuality. It’s the experience of feeling like I don’t fit into mainstream narratives – especially those that focus only on cisheteronormative experiences. But it’s more than that, too. My queerness extends to how I relate to my sexual self, my creative self, my spiritual self, and more.
In 2024, I had a hysterectomy due to a large, painful, debilitating fibroid. Because of its size and type, and my age (over 50), there was an increased risk of cancerous cells, so my uterus, fallopian tubes, and one ovary were removed through a 10cm cut in my belly.
Before surgery, I was a successful erotic writer. I’d also brought together a diverse group of authors who all contributed to my anthology about what can happen to our sex lives when ‘life’ inevitably happens. Collectively, we wrote about (sex) life disruptions such as illness and disability, ageing and menopause, becoming a caregiver, bereavement, sexual awakenings and gender transitions.
My creative-sexual self is a vital part of my identity; however, I had fears about losing it when I had my hysterectomy. I asked the gynaecologist about sex post-hysterectomy, but his only reference point was heterosexual penis-in-vagina sex. I didn’t feel I could explain the extent of my worries, or why I felt that way.
I was very much alone with both the anticipation and then the post-surgery experience of finding a void where my creativity and sexuality used to be.
In many cultures, the uterus (or womb) is viewed as the creative centre.
I needed to reframe this for myself. A friend who is a shamanic trans man told me that the pelvic bowl is, in fact, the cauldron of creativity – regardless of the presence or absence of a womb.
I found it almost impossible to reconnect with my writing, so I explored my creative connection in other ways: crocheting dragons, collaging my feelings, and (thanks to being part of this LGBTQ+ gynae project) experimenting with making zines, cyanotypes, ceramics, and photography.
This artwork, You say Uterus; I Say Universe, was made using a photograph Marge took. In the original photo, I was holding a dragon as a symbol of my creative-sexual self. The background words are pages from my chapter in the anthology, Sex Meets Life. The chapter is called “Masturbation Saved My Life” and is all about reconnecting with my sexual self during difficult times.
I covered the book pages with tissue paper and glue to show how my words and the wisdom they contain can feel out of reach right now (yet I still know they are there, somewhere). I also replaced the dragon with an image from an astronomy book because there’s still so much to explore.
No one ever asked me about the personal significance of my uterus and other gynae organs. Or how I felt about losing them. If they had, I would have eventually been able to explain that I never viewed my gynae parts as reproductive organs, but their loss, and the hormonal changes that accompanied this, have had a profound impact on my identity.
It feels like a very queer thing to reframe this experience in terms of dragons, creative cauldrons, and universes. But that’s my story.
This participatory research and socially engaged project is being delivered in collaboration with the Wellcome Collection.
With thanks to Anna for sharing her story and artwork.
Image credits (below): process photographs showing the making of the work, courtesy Anna Sansom.
