“Vagina Monologues” are normally two words I 1) would not associate together, and 2) would hate to say out loud to anyone I want to respect me.
At the very least, they were two words that filled me with dread.
This past weekend, I got the opportunity to participate in the 20th anniversary of the bold show by Eve Ensler, and I could not be more grateful.
The show has been put on at UD numerous times before this year, but I had never seen it or participated before, and I associated the show with, frankly, hyper-feminist drama I didn’t really think I wanted to show off. I am a feminist, but I didn’t think I’d be comfortable making that so public as to talk about vagina, and potentially my own.
To be fair, I did not end up talking about my own vagina, but telling a story about someone else’s, the story of women getting their period for the first time. It was personal and funny, at times sad, but I felt so liberated and free, talking about things that are considered so taboo anywhere but a gynecologist or maybe the occasional “is this normal?” sort of question to my mom.
And that wasn’t all- I heard moaning this weekend. Not just the fake, “movie magic” sort of moans that make everyone feel a little uncomfortable, but real talk about why we moan, the types of moans. It was meant to be funny at times with girls inserting funny things like “the Harry Potter moan” and “the men’s rights activist moan,” but at the core, it was 15 girls moaning on a stage in front of people, something I would normally consider foreign and strange. I did not have the courage to do it this year, but I will be right there with them next year (now just to pick a moan....)
The monologues were raw and genuine, talking about rape and abuse and patriarical, societal flaws that I’ve recognized, but feel I have never really pointed out in a constructive way.
This show made me feel strong. It made me feel that despite not being model thin or following every rule society lays out, I am whole. I am unique, but there is a whole community of women that feel the way I do, and are learning and striving to make the world better by speaking out and SPEAKING UP about what goes on in this country and around the world when women want to speak up (and what can happen when they are not free to speak their truths).
I have so much more respect and admiration for the women who speak so candidly about the experiences they have encountered, whether that be the #metoo movement and other atrocities or the simple experience of being told by a drunk girl that they were “so beautiful” even though they had never met this woman (which also happened while I walked back from a rehearsal in my bright red skirt and heels).
This experience made me feel valid, but it also made me feel that I need to say more. I need to stop living in insecurity and paranoia and fear of not being liked or accepted.
This experience has made me feel proud to be a woman, to recognize that there are things women do in this world that no one else can. Women are powerful and strong and emotional, and they deserve embracement and beauty.
This experience made me scared because it was so bold and frightening and terrifying to be associated with the moaning and the crying and the talk about clitoris and vagina and all the mutilation and pain and ecstasy having one causes.
But as one monologue said, our change must “be scary, like a storm can sometimes be scary.”