What made me go see the Monologues? The mass advertisement of these pieces compelled me to see what all the hype was about: the signs plastering the entire surface area of the bathroom, "I Love My Vagina" t-shirts, even vagina "pops." I couldn't simply pass up an event that the whole campus would be talking about-every wall breathed with illustrations of female genitalia.
Plus, I am a woman, right? So, it was my duty as a woman to celebrate my femininity, to proudly expose myself to some contemporary culture. After all, I knew The Vagina Monologues were chic and would probably be sweeping the U.S. by storm in a few years or even months.
Lastly, I was fed up. I believed that the publicity, although clever advertising (sex sells), was too in-your-face, and almost assaulting and unnecessary. I said to myself, you can't form an opinion against these Monologues unless you experience them for yourself. So I did.
For those of you who are still curious as to what exactly The Vagina Monologues are, I will offer my own brief synopsis of these performances. The Monologues consisted of about twenty small pieces, some were responses to questions such as: "What do you think about your vagina?", "What does it look like?", "What does it smell like?" or "What would it wear if it could dress?" Others were songs about rape written by famous musicians such as Tori Amos and Tracy Chapman; some pieces were comedic, posing questions of male menstruation, while some were dramatic, concerning women assaulted by soldiers and the emotional aftermath.
I found myself acutely aware of the audiences' response to the language and content of these monologues-and even more aware of my own reactions. I was disgusted at some of the subject matter, such as vivid descriptions of smell and experiences in menstruating. I wasn't laughing with the audiences at jokes concerning a "pissed off" vagina that involved descriptions of gynecological visits. I felt concerned that I wasn't responding like a good portion of the audience, partaking in hysterical laughter, vigorous applause and outcries of "I love my vagina!" I found myself unable to clap after some pieces, and although I admired the courage and talent of each member of the cast, I simply could not bring myself to appreciate the content.
I began to wonder, should I feel bad about not reacting in a positive way to a subject that was supposed to hit so close to home, that I was suppose to pride myself in, cherish and celebrate? Was I "old-fashioned" in my beliefs of propriety and secrecy of the vagina, or was I failing to acknowledge my own sexuality? Was I rejecting feminist values of empowerment and imprisoning myself in a past of female degradation because of my lack of support for these Monologues?
After leaving the Red Room, I felt unsettled and disturbed, asking my friends what they had thought of the Monologues. Some responded to my lack of enthusiasm as a reflection of my unease concerning the subject of vaginas. "You're just uncomfortable with your own vagina," one accused, as if I were a fifth-grader blushing from a sex-ed class on female anatomy. I responded defensively: it was not that I was uncomfortable, I just didn't feel as if a lot of the material was necessary in illustrating what I believed to be an important point.
Eve Ensler, the author of "The Vagina Monologues," the book on which the performance is based, is quoted as having said, "I believe that what we don't say, we don't see, acknowledge, remember. What we don't say becomes secret, and secrets often create shame, fear and myths." I believe that the main goal of these monologues is to convey a sense of comfort in the open acknowledgement of the vagina. By turning the secret and dark into mundane, everyday expressions, the Monologues seek to bring ease and pride to the subject of vaginas. Perhaps the mystery and secret behind vaginas is not associated with pain and shame, but rather with respect for its sacredness and its hidden power to dominate. Turning its value into everyday context erases its profound effect as a mystery.
I believe in women's rights, in destroying the degradation and shame that women have had to live with and in erasing a past full of male force and repressed sexuality. However, in using vivid and graphic descriptions of the vagina, in promoting its image campus-wide, I do not believe the vagina is empowered to the degree to which the Monologues suggest. Rather, the mundane use of vagina, trying to erase the negative connotations of "cunt" by using the word more frequently and in different tonalities, rather diminishes the female power.
There is a freedom in openness. I do not doubt that the Monologues were trying to obtain this freedom; but does freedom always mean equality, and does openness always promote respect? I believe in the line between expression and propriety, between necessary and superfluous details. Is the problem that we do not talk openly enough about vaginas? We would like to think that the more we say something, the more comfortable and positive it will become. Shocking content brings thought, but must art shock to prove a point, or can we be satisfied with addressing each issue of rape, degradation and sexual repression without the need to scream, "I love my vagina?"