the vagina monologues

i keep forgetting to update. no shock there. i saw the vagina monologues last weekend. i had no idea what to expect. the stage was bare except for 20-25 conference style folding chairs, 3 collapsable podiums and 5 microphones on stands. the cast came to the stage single-file and sat down. they were all women, and they were dressed mostly in black, with red or pink accents. two women introduced the show, gave a brief history of it and off they went.

apparently the writer has researched and interviewed women for the last 13+ years about their “down there”. young women, old women, skinny women, fat women, you get the idea. the writer had taken the dialogues from her research, cut her own side out and crafted the interviewee’s side in to something that very closely resembled a verbal blog.

one woman, i would guess she was on the young side of 60, started with, “If you love vaginas, you must also love hair,” and went on to talk about how her husband had cheated on her because she wouldn’t shave her twat. they went to a female marriage therapist, who appallingly took HIS side.

another women spoke of being the victim of female genital mutilation in the Congo. her labia had been removed and her vagina sewn shut, except for the smallest hole possible to allow urine and menstrual fluid to pass.

yet another spoke of being in a camp in BellaRus and being assaulted repeatedly by the guards, with anything they could fit inside her. some of the stories were atrocious. some were offered with a humorous aim. through all of the stories and all of the horrendous facts that accompanied the tales i didnt flinch.

at the end, they asked for all of the survivors of domestic violence and/or sexual assault to stand up. my estimate is 1 in 5 of us were standing. i felt goosebumps raise on my arms. then they asked everyone that KNEW someone that was a survivor to join those of us already standing. i think it ended up being about 90% of us. i felt the lump at the back of my throat turn in to a grimace as i tried to hold back tears. eventually, i just let them go.

to see SO many of us, in a random sampling of people, admit and acknowledge that we were or knew victims, was overwhelming, but it felt good to know that i wasnt alone.


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