The sexist, toxic history of douching

“You ever get that not-at-all-necessary feeling down there?”

The douching wive’s tale just won’t die.

No matter how many times medical professionals tell us not to douche, people still insist it’s fine. Our moms told us it was fine. And her mom told her it was fine. And her mom’s vulva burned a little bit but she was mostly fine, too.

But it was only the past few decades that douching was marketed primarily for “freshness.” Since ancient times, people with vaginas primarily douched as a form of birth control. (Warning: It doesn’t prevent pregnancy.)

Douching involves flushing the inside of the vagina with fluid, often squirted from a bottle, bag or tube. Ancient women across many cultures douched with honey, olive oil, or even wine in an effort to prevent pregnancy. It was common for medieval prostitutes to douche between clients, as STIs were rampant. (Warning: It doesn’t prevent infection.)

Éguisier irrigator (Case Western Reserve University)

When American physician Charles Knowlton officially sanctioned the douche in 1832 as a contraceptive after sex — a Victorian version of Plan B — commercial development took off. French obstetrician Maurice Éguisier released a self-acting douche in 1843, a porcelain pump and rubber hose that would remain popular for the next 75 years. Until people discovered Lysol.

Starting in the early 1900s women and other vagina-havers used the household disinfectant to douche. And the brand even sanctioned it for that purpose, creating jelly, spray, and foam versions. Ads claimed Lysol would guard against “odors,” a universally understood euphemism for birth control.

By 1940 the douche would become the most popular “contraceptive” in the US. A 1933 study of 507 women who used Lysol for birth control resulted in nearly half getting pregnant. Meanwhile, doctors had reported 193 poisonings and 5 deaths from Lysol douching before 1911. Women routinely complained of vaginal burning and blisters, though lawsuits were overturned and reports covered up. Never admitting fault, Lysol nonetheless changed its formula in 1952 to become a quarter as toxic as before.

Besides Lysol, women douched with water mixed with iodine, baking soda, or vinegar. Rumors persisted into the 1980s that a Coca-Cola douche was an effective contraceptive. A criticized Harvard Medical School experiment (read: overrated Mythbusters episode) mixed sperm with three types of Coca-Cola and found that Classic Coke killed sperm more quickly. ‘’The experiments were obviously half in jest — we explicitly said we did not recommend Coca-Cola douches as a means of contraception,’’ Dr. Sharee Umpierre, an obstetrician who led the research, told Domestic News.

Mid-century Lysol campaigns shamed women into “disinfecting” their vaginas.

With the widespread availability and social acceptance of actual, effective contraception — particularly the pill — marketers had to reinvent the selling of douches. They turned to an age-old strategy: making women feel horrible about their bodies.

From the 1920s, Lysol had pushed the “unclean” message. Ads chided women for “intimate neglect,” insinuating their husbands lost interest because their vaginas didn’t smell or look like a cute little strawberry in a pink bow. “A man marries a woman because he loves her,” one Lysol ad reads. “So instead of blaming him if married love begins to cool, she should question herself.”

In the 1970s and 1980s — without the pregnancy-prevention off-label use — ads doubled down on this approach, preying on women’s insecurities around “freshness” and sexual idealism.