My vagina liked last year’s Vagina Monologues so much that it begged to come back. And come back it did, a director vagina. An important vagina.
My vagina sat with many other vaginas for 3 months and we talked about…guess…vaginas. We talked about our monologues. We talked about parts of our souls they touch. We wrote about the women we presented. We made their stories our stories.
My vagina tried to direct. Honestly, it was more like giving personal feedback. It’s not like my vagina ran around artistically, yelling at the actors: “action, action!”
As we changed, so did our stories. Some vaginas lost love, some gained confidence. Some vaginas grew stronger. Some vaginas fell into darkness. Our monologues changed colors. Though in the end, our vaginas felt accomplished. It was like vagina therapy.
And so it happened that my vagina went to a Vagina Workshop. To discover own form and essence. After practicing and practicing, my vagina finally talked about it in front of 200 people and it was elating. It even tried to convey an orgasm on stage. My vagina was funny. People laughed.
My vagina also made a little speech in the beginning. My vagina said, hey, women are killed in Georgia. Wheelchair-adapted swings are taken down in Georgia. My vagina said, we need to hear these women in Georgia. My vagina said, we need to hear them.
Backstage, my vagina watched other vaginas talk, one by one, and it was proud, my vagina was proud, it was my team, it was our team, we dared and talked about vaginas when most do not dare and do not talk about vaginas.
No one yelled and no one screamed.
Some felt uncomfortable. Sitting and listening to other women’s vaginas. Some laughed nervously. Some felt connection. Some felt like they knew these vaginas on stage – through work, through life, through their own vaginas. Even if they did not have one.
And now it is over. My vagina believes that after performing last year and performing and directing this year, it has talked its talk. My vagina wants others to get involved. My vagina encourages you to participate next year.
And then you can sit down and write your own vagina monologue.
Like the one I am writing today. Or this one.
In any case, come and listen.
Because we have to:
Let our vaginas talk. Let our women speak. Let our inner, hidden, repressed selves finally declare: Enough! No more violence!
P.S. My Vagina Workshop scene
P.S. life is so hectic, I hardly find time to sit and think. And if I don’t think, I don’t write. And if I don’t write…well, I loose you guys.
That’s it. I promise to write in July. And thank you for still checking my page out.