When Dr Jen Gunter, a US-based gynaecologist, and her publisher, Kensington Books, sought to promote her new book on Twitter, they ran into trouble. The problem was the title: The Vagina Bible. It appeared that “vagina” was red-flagged by Twitter Ads as “inappropriate language”.

Gunter was understandably outraged: “When we’re not allowed to say a word the implication is it’s dirty or shameful. Not being able to buy an ad because of the word vagina for a book about vaginas is ridiculous.”

A suitably vagina-laden outcry followed, and Twitter permitted the offending promoted tweets on its network. But if Twitter’s default position is to ban the word vagina on the grounds of vulgarity, what does that say about the way we think about women’s bodies?

It’s time we all got comfortable with the term vagina – and while we’re at it, vulva, labia and clitoris. How are women supposed to talk about their health or sexuality if the anatomically correct words used to describe their body parts are taboo? While it might make sense to ask a beautician to vajazzle your vajayjay, cutesy euphemisms don’t cut it in the doctor’s surgery.

When women absorb the “ick” factor associated with our vaginas, it puts us at risk of missing out on essential healthcare. A 2015 survey in the UK revealed that 66% of women aged 18 to 24 avoided going to the doctor to talk about gynaecological issues altogether.

“As a gynae doc I see so many adult women who refer to problems in their “down belows/minnie/fanny/foof” and then have to spend valuable consultation time trying to get them to specify which bit of their genitalia they are talking about,” observed one medic.

Our unwillingness to correctly label female anatomy contributes to other problems, including a “pleasure gap” that sees men’s sexual needs prioritised over women’s. Sex is often seen as synonymous with male pleasure. Female pleasure, however, is usually overlooked, tossed into the too-hard basket.

Dr Jessica Eaton, a UK-based psychologist who runs sex education training for teachers, recounts on Twitter how teachers admitted they were willing to say the word “penis” and talk about male masturbation, but none were comfortable talking about vaginas and female pleasure in the same way.

The effect of this double standard is captured by Peggy Orenstein, who spent three years talking to young women about their experience of sex while researching her book Girls & Sex. In a 2017 TED Talk, she talks about how many young women don’t feel entitled to enjoy sex. They expressed a sense of shame around their genitals, a problem that she says stems from a cultural reluctance to talk about women’s bodies. “There’s no better way to make something unspeakable than not to name it.”

If we want to make female pleasure as important as male pleasure, we need to normalise conversations about sex – starting with the proper names for our sexual organs.

It’s also essential for kids to know how to talk about their bodies. Sexual health educators argue that teaching children anatomically correct terms for their body parts – genitals included – helps reduce shame and gives them the language they need if they ever become the victim of abuse. Children are less likely to disclose inappropriate behaviour if they don’t have the vocabulary to describe it or believe that they will get in trouble for broaching a taboo topic.

Now, many will note that the vagina refers specifically to the internal structure that connects the cervix to the external genitalia. In common parlance, however, vagina is shorthand for the whole kit and caboodle, which is fine with me.

As Gunter argues in her book’s introduction, “language evolves and words take on new meaning”. She points out that just as the term “gut” originally referred to the lower intestinal tract but is now used to describe the entire digestive system as well as the liver and pancreas, “vagina” is typically understood to refer to the lower reproductive tracts.

So, familiarise yourself with the correct terms for the human body’s reproductive bits and make sure your kids know the difference between the vulva and the vagina. After all, knowledge is power.

• Nicola Heath is a freelance writer