I RECENTLY wrote a column about vaginas, and received some criticism for not including within it the word ‘woman’.

I didn't consciously omit gendered language, so to hear that I was allegedly trying to erase women was surprising, considering I am, at least the last time I checked, a woman myself.

The reason I use gender neutral language to discuss matters of the body comes from my desire to be both as accurate and inclusive as I can. I have friends who don’t identify with womanhood, yet still have the requisite hardware, capacity or desire to experience menstruation and pregnancy.

When discussing these topics, I could say some women and some girls and some trans men and some non-binary individuals, but I find it much less clunky to simply say people. Not all people are women, but all women are people, and as such in one fell swoop I can both cover women such as myself, while also broadening the scope of those I am able to include in my discussions.

Additionally, while it is most certainly true that some women get periods, many do not. People who give birth, menstruate, breastfeed, get cervical screenings and go through other experiences do not do so because they are women.

To refer to women as people does not negate their womanhood, rather it emphasises their humanity. It’s also important to note that when I discuss things like menstruation, pregnancy and childbirth, I never want to write exclusively for, or to, women, but to everyone who might benefit from reading about these topics.

In avoiding unnecessary specificity, I want to ensure that the experiences of those who do not identify with womanhood are not discounted, and that they are not excluded from a conversation to which they have long been denied access.

To inextricably link womanhood to biological functions is to define it by them – which is in and of itself exclusionary and does not take into account the diversity of the female experience.

There are women who, by birth, illness, medical intervention or personal choice, do not have the hardware required for menstruation or childbearing, and they are no less women as a result of this fact.

This is not all that we are, it is not all that we should aspire to and it is certainly not how we should be defined. Women are more than that which they produce, and their relationship to womanhood is not dependent upon it. I am a woman, and I menstruate, I am not a woman because I menstruate. If and when I reach the age where my body no longer performs certain biological functions, I will be no less a woman, and throughout the various stages of menstruation participation, I will never have been any less of a person.

There is an elegance and efficiency in not having to list each demographic capable of sharing an experience, and often using broader terminology is the best way to cater for the most diverse set of needs within the community.

I remember my school sending letters home addressed to my ‘parent/carer’. This is a simple but effective use of inclusive language which acknowledges the diverse range of family circumstances a child can experience, such as single parent households, same sex parental units, foster or adoptive families, and those who live with family members other than their parents.

To list these circumstances would be impractical, but to omit them through overly specific language such as ‘mums and dads’ would be exclusionary. Do most people have a mum and a dad? Sure. Is it worth taking the time to be inclusive to those who do not share the same experiences as the majority? Absolutely.

Women don’t need every aspect of menstruation to be steeped in the pungent pink sludge of stereotypical femininity, replete with garish floral wrappers, cloying floral scents and condescending girlboss marketing.

I do not need to be reminded that I am a woman, I am secure enough in my womanhood to accept that not everyone else who walks through this world sharing certain experiences will also share the labels with which I define myself. It takes nothing away from me or my womanhood to include others in experiences we both go through, and through regularly using gender neutral language it now seems unnatural for me to go out of my way to specify the gender of an activity or experience.

It may come as a surprise to those who adhere vehemently to their linguistic pedantry, but language is unmistakably fluid, and it always has been. Words that might once have been mainstays of the English language have been relegated to archaic idioms, and new words and phrases are coined each day to replace or augment as needed.

Of course there are circumstances when it is necessary to be as specific as possible, and our language should reflect that, but the majority of the time there is room for nuance.

Don't get me wrong, I love language, but I love people more. Human beings didn't pop into existence with a fully developed linguistic prescriptiveness full of rigid rules and an immovable structure.

We have a tendency to think of the English we speak as the English that always was, and yet even going back a generation or two there are words we no longer use, or now use, changes which are entirely dependent upon cultural attitudes. Consider the now obsolete and archaic term doctress, and the implications of living in a society which no longer needs to differentiate its doctors by gender.

If you personally want to continue using gender specific language to describe yourself and your own experiences and activities you are, and always have been, free and welcome to do this.

I do hope, however, that you consider both the robust permanence of womanhood, and the diversity of the human experience. Language bends and stretches to accommodate the needs and wants of the society speaking it, and this feigned moral panic over the erasure of women feels like nothing more than manufactured outrage which distracts from the genuine misogyny women can face on a daily basis.

Through the use of more gender neutral language we can help to address the exclusion of the past, and acknowledge the often controversial fact that despite those who would argue otherwise, women are people.

Womanhood is not some small insignificance precariously perched atop one word, entirely reliant upon its use or omission, it is an unshakable, immovable foundation upon which each and every expression of what it means to be a woman can comfortably exist.