Reframing the C-Word

See You Next Tuesday in Confidence.

This installment of Words Are Spells is a collaboration effort
with

Megan Lee

of Shame Sandwich.

Megan originally published this on her newsletter on February 21st and I’m re-posting here in its entirety with my commentary at the end.

disclaimer - there is what could be considered some vulgar language that is not the norm for this publication. My hope is that this article helps your reclaim the original power of this word.

it’s also the longest post I’ve ever published here, and worth every word.

Megan Lee - Shame Sandwich

Cunt.

Cunt.

Cunt.

Cunt.

Cuntity.

Cunt.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

What’s that?

Only I’m laughing?

Fuck a fat armpit that’s awkward. ← so was that statement. Holy Jesus. In my defense, it flew forth from my brain and shot out of my fingertips before I could stop it. Megan!!! STFU. ← Ok.

Authors Note: If you’re going to cry about me using the word cunt in my own newsletter then please see your cunty ass out. Don’t let the door slam your ass cunt on the way out, either.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Damn.

Megan is ON ONE today. ← Just Uban Dictionaried this phrase. Don’t worry, I’m not high on methamphetamine. Just high on myself. 😇

Anywho.

The C word I’m talking about today has nothing to do with the word cunt.

I just happen to find it extraordinarily satisfying to say!

😂😂😂😂

Truly, the next time you’ve been assaulted by life, legos, or drivers cutting you off, here’s some Megan-approved swears that are sure to rapidly boost your mood:

→ “Go eat a typhoid sandwich you dick cunt!!!!!”

→ “Christ’s cunt that hurt worse than anal!!!!!”

→ “You’ve got the cuntiest driver skills I’ve ever seen, you motherfucking ass-twat!!!!!”

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Truly, I would have blown a gasket many moons ago if I weren’t able to relieve the pressure by swearing it out when the circomstances warranted it. 🙏

ANYWHO—

Now that we’ve established the fact that I will probably now have sworn ← hahaha enemies due to my obscene love for a well-placed ‘cunt’, let’s proceed with the actual point of this newsletter, shall we? 😁

.

.

.

The C word I’m referring to today is… Confidence.

Which, frankly, might as well carry the same connotations with cunt. 😭

That bloody bastard of a word.

I have confidence issues. And mommy issues.

Which is shameful.

Intellectually, I realize that it’s ridiculous to waste time second-guessing myself.

Of course everyone should be confident rocking their long necks and tiny tits and non botoxed faces and lackluster pedigree. ← speaking to myself, ok, speaking to myself. 😭

But on a more personal level… fuck.

Confidence has been in a lifelong game of hide and seek with me and IDK if that bastard is just a really good hider or I’m just a shitty seeker but goddamn.

IT’S BEEN A TOXIC GAME OF HIDE AND SEEK LEMME TELL YOU THAT MUCH.

I try and find it, but it’s nowhere to be seen.

It tries to find me and I’m wallowing in shame.

Repeat forever.

The end.

Oh, also. Let’s bring up the F word:

Fuck Fake It.

I’VE TRIED FAKING IT TILL I MAKE IT AND IT’S JUST NOT THE SAME THING, YOU KNOW???????

I mean sooooooometimes, yes, you just need to get a little confidence on credit situation and fake it a bit until you can get on with the real deal.

But uuuuuuuusually what happens is a shame spiral followed by a crash and burn.

What, just me?

Which is why I’m so desperate for real confidence and not fake confidence.

---

Authors note:

Holy hell. Dear reader, I must confess something to you. I am a different woman than I was 48 hours ago when I started writing this newsletter. Or at least, in this moment, I don’t at all feel like the woman I was 48 hours ago. What you’ve read up until now I wrote Wednesday. The rest, I’m writing right now before sending to you.

Something happened yesterday and it cracked me wide open.

It wasn’t something ‘bad’, or ‘good’. Just… neutral.

And yet it ripped me open and violently tore out my pain, shoving it in my face, demanding I see for myself what I’d buried in the deepest center of my being.

The force of the emotions that hit me all at once was otherworldly.

I’ve never felt so much, so unexpectedly, all at once.

That’s what’s most shocking to me… how unprepared I was.

I had no time to put up walls.

No time to protect myself.

And I simply… felt.

I feel like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me massively, you know?

My body feels different.

I feel different.

Not necessarily in a bad or good way… just different.

Processesing.

That’s what I’m doing right now, I’m processing the enormity of what my body felt yesterday.

Turns out, it’s pretty all-consuming. And there’s no way I can honor myself and also put a pretty pink black blow over the original intention of this newsletter.

And yet… I can’t help seeing the beautiful irony of what I started writing about, and where I ended up.

Real confidence, the kind I desperately crave, comes from being authentic, not faking it.

And my dear shame sammie homie… I am not faking it. 😭

I wasn’t faking it at the beginning of this newsletter, and I’m not faking it now.

And you know what? Holy titty twisties ← there’s a glimpse of Megan coming back 🥹🙏 I am exuding confidence in this newsletter. In all of my newsletters. Because they are authentic AF. 😭

It might still be shakey confidence because I’m never not scared that my newsletter is going to go out to crickets who aren’t even cricketing, which is is a terrible visual.

But— goddamn, I am confident in myself. I just need to let it bloom.

😭😭😭

And— I’m sooooooo proud of myself for not trying to “fake it” and attempting to finish this half-written newsletter in my normal energy that is just not present right now.

Homegirl needs a minute.

The feels are big.

And I’m being honest about that.

But also— if I feel the laughter and joy and energizer-bunny-Megan-energy bubbles back up, I’m going to grab it with both hands and a toe, and remember that it’s ok for ALL the feels to co-exist.

Whatever I’m feeling, I’m going to practice accepting.

Sorry in advance for the whiplash.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

-M

p.s. - Thank you for putting up with my sweary ass antics. 😭😂 I know not everyone, errr, ok fine most people aren’t as sweary as me. And for some people, swearing might make you uncomfortable. So, thanks for not shooting acid in my eyelids or some shit like that. I was sure that I wouldn’t have a subscriber left in sight when people got a taste for how sweary I can be. 😅 Your acceptance of my sweary, layered self means oh so much. 🥹♥️ ← I pre-wrote this p.s. on Wednesday, and leaving it in.

p.p.s. - Thank you for being here. 🥹🫶

TeriLeigh

Girlfriend, you cast a WordSpell on yourself and it fucking WORKED!

Cunt, Confidence, and the Cosmic Womb of Creation

Megan, you didn’t just write a newsletter. You cast a WordSpell so potent it cracked you open, split you wide, and let something new take root. And the magick word—the key, the portal, the incantation that summoned this transformation? Cunt.

A word that’s been spat out as an insult, shackled in taboo, buried under centuries of repression—and yet, at its core, it is one of the oldest, rawest, most powerful words for creation itself.

The Sacred History of Cunt

Did you know that cunt has ancient, disputed origins? Some say it stems from Latin cunnus (meaning vulva), while others trace it to pre-Sanskrit origins, where it meant “a gash in the earth.” A split. A wedge. A hollow carved into the body of Mother Earth herself.

And what do we do with that gash?

We plant seeds.

We bury them deep in the dark soil. And then—just as the Earth does—we let them germinate, let them take root, let them bloom into something lush, wild, uncontainable.

When you called forth the word cunt—when you laughed, raged, played, and reveled in it—you evoked the energy of the Divine Mother. You tapped into the primal, generative power of the Feminine.

Cunt as a Portal to Confidence

Confidence isn’t something you fake—you don’t just slap it on like a cheap sticker and hope it sticks. Confidence is grown. It is nurtured from within. And like any living thing, it needs soil, darkness, and time to break through.

The journey you wrote about? The way you started with playful irreverence, only to find yourself cracked open, feeling something raw and real and unexpected—that is cunt energy in action.

It ripped you open, the way the earth is split before something new can take root. It shoved you face-to-face with something buried deep inside you. And what did you do? You let it in. You let it grow. You let it transform you.

Owning the Divine Feminine

Cunt has been used to shame women, to shut them up, to make them feel small—but what if it’s actually the key to something enormous?

The ancient goddesses knew.

• In Sumerian hymns, Inanna’s vulva was called the “Boat of Heaven,” the divine vessel of power and pleasure.

• The Sheela-na-gigs of Celtic lore—carvings of women boldly displaying their vulvas—were placed over doorways, believed to bring protection, fertility, and raw creative force.

• In Tantra, the yoni is the sacred gateway to Shakti, the raw power of the universe.

Modern culture has spent centuries trying to erase this knowledge—trying to turn the seat of creation, power, and transformation into something shameful, something crude. But what you did, Megan, was reclaim it.

And in doing so, you didn’t just embrace cunt—you became it.

A gash in the earth, swallowing a seed and growing something new.

A portal of transformation, leading you into real confidence, rooted in authenticity.

A living embodiment of the Divine Mother, standing in your truth, unashamed and unshaken.

The Spell Worked

Megan, you swallowed the cunt-pill and gave birth to CONFIDENCE.

Because cunt isn’t just a word.

It’s a power source.
A threshold.
A cosmic opening into something deeper, richer, more real.

You just walked through it.

I fucking love you for that.

—TeriLeigh