Thursday, March 4, 2010

The Vagina Monologues, or Sisterhood! Yeah! (A review of sorts)

So I went to the Vagina Monologues tonight. Because my friends all chickened out, I went alone. I mean, what kind of self-aware young feministe am I if I can't even go to a play by myself, right? I'm kind of embarrassed that I even considered not going if I was going alone. But I went, and I had a blast. It was standing room only in the theater, and I found a seat on the aisle stairs just above a butch girl with an afro. Just me and my vagina, taking in a show.

The Vagina Monologues isn't a problem-free work. There's a pretty heavy emphasis on this imaginary "they": i.e., the they who make tampons, thong underwear, and douche sprays. And I think this imaginary they is male. It's strongly implied. So there are some anti-male sentiments, but luckily some pro-male as well. There's this one monologue at the beginning called "Because He Liked To Look At It." And it's about a woman who meets a guy for a one-night stand, and this man LOVES her vagina. He spends easily an hour just examining it and looking at it with an expression of total reverence, and this experience changes forever the way she sees her body.

And I can get behind that. I know that if I'd had some of the negative experiences described in the Monologues, even some of the more minor ones like getting rejected by a guy for having a wet vagina, I'd probably not be anything like as enlightened and body-satisfied as I am now.

The stories they told were incredibly moving, and I encourage people to check out the YouTube videos of the different acts if there's no show in your area. Some of them are painful, and some of them are funny, and some are both. The music acts are the only part of the show that didn't seem to fit. There are three songs, and none of them are vagina-centric enough for me to feel like they fit the theme. I spent the song sequences trying to read my program in the dark and thinking about my vagina.

Maybe that's what those interludes are for. The quiet acoustic guitar, the warmth of the cramped theater, and me, staring at my crotch, thinking about how neat it is that I'm finally beginning to appreciate this strange, magical thing I've got. I never really appreciated my vagina until recently, and this show couldn't have come at a better time. I feel energized, and happy, and ready to go on new adventures in life. Me and my vagina (cunt, coochie snorcher, pookie, pooter, pussycat, snooky), taking on the world.

P.S. This production of The Vagina Monologues was raising money for RAINN (The Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network.) If you want to donate to them, you can do so at

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