The bike short trend, which seems to have been near-inescapable over the past couple of summers, may need many upsides including nailing the sporty-chic aesthetic. But for a lot of vulva-having people, there may be one, glaring, downside: the creeping possibility of a camel toe and the inevitable body-shaming that comes with it.

Likened to “crotch cleavage” by Urban Dictionary, a camel toe, for those of you not within the know, occurs when the outline of the labia (the “lips” of a vulva) grow to be visible through clothing that matches tightly across the crotch, equivalent to leggings, playsuits or gym clothes. Unlike the “dick print”, the equivalent for cis men and male-presenting mon-binary people which features prominently in memes about grey sweatpants, or the “bulge” which is omnipresent in promoting for male underwear, the camel toe is not seen as a sex symbol. As a substitute, as any variety of round-ups of “worst celebrity camel toes” attest, even the slightest display of your labia is seen as quite the other: dirty, embarrassing, and fully un-chic.

Individuals with vulvas have been shamed for hundreds of years, encouraged to hide their bodies and harshly judged by narrow beauty standards, but where does the contemporary taboo around camel toes come from? As Tracy Clark-Flory writes for Jezebel, we will trace the term’s popularisation (it was already in use within the late 90s) back to Late Night with Conan O’Brien’s “Camel Toe Annie” – a 2001 skit featuring the titular Annie, a personality who believed that “men shouldn’t be the one ones who get to stuff their crotch area”. Shimmying across the stage in spandex pants, arrange like an obscene joke, it’s no surprise that Annie left a legacy of mocking vulvas in her wake. 

After Conan O’Brien was Fannypack, a woman band whose 2003 single “Cameltoe” asked, ‘is your crotch hungry girl? / ‘cos it’s eating your pants’. Then, got here a scourge of articles from the likes of Marie Claire on methods to fix the “fashion disaster,” in addition to the disparaging critique of “camel toe chic” from the likes of The Guardian journalist Hadley Freeman – who saw the ubiquity of the noughties leggings trend as a thinly masked challenge to “show as much of your anatomy as possible”. 

The internalised misogyny of the 00s fashion press, which had its beady eyes trained on vulva-having people’s crotches, seems to have set the scene for the hyper-surveillance of ladies and non-binary people’s bodies throughout the 2010s too. Tabloid reporters hungrily captured glimpses of celebrities on holiday, homing in on the outline of their bikini briefs and, in response to growing awareness, opportunistic corporations even began marketing “camel toe concealer” – reusable silicone inserts to assist reduce the visibility of your vulva. 

Concealer is one thing, but camel toe shame may even drive people to surgery, specifically labiaplasty. Commonly known as “designer vagina” surgery alongside vaginoplasty (vaginal tightening), this cosmetic gynaecological procedure involves shortening the inner labia so that they’re more in-line with the outer labia, often while under local or sometimes general aesthetic. In 2013, the International Society of Aesthetic Plastic Surgeons recorded a 109 per cent increase in labiaplasty procedures in comparison with the previous 12 months – with demand continuing to rise until flattening out in 2018. 

Can we draw any links between the culture of shame surrounding camel toes and this sharp rise in global labiaplasty surgeries throughout the 2010s? In response to Dr Angelica Kavouni, the UK’s ‘go-to’ surgeon for labiaplasty, the number of individuals going under the knife is on the rise but not, necessarily, due to camel toe shame. “Labiaplasty has grow to be increasingly popular the over last five years because of increased awareness of the labiaplasty procedure,” Dr Kavouni tells Dazed Beauty, before drawing attention to the undeniable fact that; “Many ladies can suffer physically and psychologically from hypertrophic (longer or thicker than what is taken into account “normal”) labia.”

There’s no “right” size or shape on your labia but, as Dr Kavouni points out, sometimes individuals with larger labia report discomfort during sex and exercise. She reports “a tenfold increase” in individuals of their 20s and 30s requesting labiaplasty surgery for that reason, not for aesthetic reasons. Professor Isaac Manyonda, a consultant and professor in obstetrics and gynaecology, tells a rather different story, nevertheless. Professor Manyonda is dubious about whether the surgery really is rising in popularity, as a substitute maintaining that; “the demand actually exists, but whether it’s modified I don’t know.” But from his experience, moderately than being motivated by physical discomfort, the primary motivation for labiaplasty is cosmetic; “the vast majority of people request this surgery purely because they themselves don’t like how (their labia) look.” 

“The vast majority of people request this surgery purely because they themselves don’t like how (their labia) look” – Professor Isaac Manyonda, gynaecologist

But while it’s largely adults remedying dissatisfaction with their labia through surgery, the body-shaming around camel toes starts much earlier, with young people receiving negative messaging in social environments – not only the media. Sex and relationships blogger and speaker Tatyannah King can remember first hearing about camel toe when an adolescent in highschool, from boys in her class who were audibly commenting on her body. “I overheard some guys talking about which girls had the largest butts and camel toes of their leggings,” King remembers. “After I heard my very own name within the conversation, I immediately looked up the definition on Urban Dictionary and my jaw dropped; I didn’t know people paid that much attention to the way in which vulvas look in thin material.”

Similarly, Beth Ashley, a author on sex, feminism and queer culture, remembers that her introduction to the term was from “boys openly assessing who had (a camel toe)” during school PE classes in 12 months seven. Ashley explains that this sort of behaviour, while it won’t seem very serious to the people behind it, can have a long-standing negative impact; “It’s that horrible laddish British banter to take the piss out of somebody for having a camel toe when actually that’s just setting a shame stigma really early on, which is so unlucky.” 

But, like all things, camel toe stigma doesn’t discriminate equally. As King explains, Black women and Black AFAB non-binary people, already objectified in media and subject to a lengthy history of body-policing, are more harshly judged for having a visual camel toe. “There are definitely racist undertones to how people might look down upon a Black woman with a camel toe, or equate it to something hypersexual,” King states. “(Especially as) Black women usually tend to be objectified than other races.” 

“I actually have unfortunately seen many a fat woman attacked in public verbally for having a camel toe, with people laughing and commenting on their bodies as in the event that they aren’t even there. I don’t think the people who find themselves doing it even realise how frightening it’s for somebody to make a comment in your genitals” – Beth Ashley, author 

Similarly, Ashley points out that camel toe-shaming can be way more severe for plus-size people. “It’s difficult enough to be a lady or a queer person in a plus-size body but when you have got a camel toe or a FUPA (“fat upper pubic area”) it adds that extra layer of something to attack from people who find themselves in thin bodies or people who find themselves in male cis bodies,” she says. “I actually have unfortunately seen many a fat woman attacked in public verbally for having a camel toe, with people laughing and commenting on their bodies as in the event that they aren’t even there. I don’t think the people who find themselves doing it even realise how frightening it’s for somebody to make a comment in your genitals.”

Fear of the type of dehumanising verbal attacks which Ashley draws attention to, directed with more frequency at plus-size people and girls and non-binary people of color, is what makes camel toe such a degree of deep-rooted shame for a lot of. Against this toxic backdrop, what, if anything, is being done to reclaim the cameltoe? If we glance to the media and entertainment industries – only just starting to fathom the concept that we don’t all exist solely for the cishet male gaze – it actually appears that not much is being done.  

Similarly, celebrities aren’t exactly lining up to return out in support of the camel toe cause, and the one which has might come as something of a surprise (at the least when you’re not aware of Keeping Up With The Kardashians). Along with her penchant for selling flat tummy teas, Khloe Kardashian isn’t exactly much of a body-positive icon. Nevertheless it can be a disservice to disregard her efforts to cancel camel toe stigma. Khloe, who first named her camel toe “Camille the Camel” in an Instagram post from 2015, before counting down her own top camel toe moments and writing “move over #FreeTheNipple, it’s all about #FreeTheCamelToe!!!” in a now-deleted blog post, would appear to be robustly pro-camel. 

Yet, it stays to be seen whether Khloe’s stance is as radical because it might sound. It’s actually tempting to think that her intimate defence of camel toe is absolutely just intended to be a funny in-joke along with her fans, moderately than some type of feminist statement. But with so few celebrities stepping as much as the plate, we’ll just have to simply accept Khloe as our camel toe queen in the intervening time. So, with wider society maintaining such a lacklustre case for #FreeTheCamelToe what can we actually do to make vulva visibility less of a degree of shame and embarrassment?

For King, the reply lies in difficult the cishet-male focus of sexual education and in empowering women and AFAB non-binary people to learn more about their very own vulvas. “Research has shown that 50 per cent of women don’t know what a mean vulva looks like, and 15 per cent haven’t seen one other vulva since watching tapes during a sex education class,” King explains. “So, if these individuals aren’t aware of the several sizes and shapes that a vulva is available in, then they’re prone to base their assumptions of (what their vulva “should” appear to be) off of what they’ve seen in mainstream pornography, which isn’t an ideal place to start out. I’m sure (this) social influence is a large contributor to why women seek labiaplasty.”

She’s right: without adequate education about vulvas from outside the world of pornography (where, ICYMI, camel toe is already a booming fetish category in its own right) it’s unlikely that the taboo around camel toe will ever really dissipate. That’s considered one of the various the reason why it’s so necessary sexual education in schools stays current and incorporates a variety of identities and relationships, in order that, with each generation, outdated notions grow to be less ingrained.