A COLLEAGUE heard I'd be acting in this year's production of "The VaginaMonologues" and high-fived me for having the courage to "dance on stage dressed as a giant vagina. How exciting!" Like many people, she had misconceptions about the performance, although her misunderstandings were less harmful and certainly more entertaining than most. While I can't promise her vagina outfits or dancing, I can promise an opportunity to hear the silenced voices of women around the world and to welcome positive change in our own community. How exciting is that?
Some misconceptions about "The Vagina Monologues" are far less tolerable than my friend's image of fox-trotting labia.This show is not anti-men. This show is not degrading to women. "The Vagina Monologues" celebrates healthy relationships, commemorates birth and honors the women's body and soul as one.
To say that this performance is viciously anti-male is to flagrantly misidentify the purpose of the show. The performance raises awareness for violence against women; it is difficult to do so without mentioning the perpetrators, who in most cases of violence against women happen to be men.
To say that this performance objectifies women is equally as unjustified. The basis of this claim is a monologue where one woman "discovers" her vagina. Vaginas and women are not separate, she determines, and a woman should not hide from her sexuality. She compares her vagina to a shell, a tulip, a destiny and finally, to herself: "My vagina, me." Critics argue that by comparing herself to and identifying herself with a vagina, the woman becomes a sex object. I hope that any woman who respects her body would disagree. To discover one's sexuality is to become more whole and less apt to be reduced to anatomy. By embracing her sexuality, a woman is more confident, more proud, more willing and ready to say "no" or, conversely, to give enthusiastic consent in sexual encounters. In learning to love her vagina, a woman is less likely to be objectified.
Some critics are uncomfortable with words used in "The Vagina Monologues." No one would question the performance's colorful language -- my own monologue, after all, celebrates the reclamation of "cunt," a word that has surprisingly positive historical connotation. By openly discussing sex and the female body, the monologues endeavor to create an environment where survivors of sexual assault are more comfortable sharing that they have been violated. In silencing frank discussion about sexuality, we risk hindering the ability of survivors to acknowledge their attacks, which is often a crucial step in recovery.
I first saw "The Vagina Monologues" during my second year at the University. With tear-soaked sleeves and a mascara-smeared cheek, my heart swelled with respect for our classmates on stage. When the cast stood together at curtain call, I cried. I cried for the women whose stifled stories were finally given a voice. I cried for the women forced into sexual slavery. I cried for the victims of female genital mutilation. I cried for the survivors of rape, incest and battery. I cried for the women who hated their sexuality, who hated their bodies. I cried for the women who were ashamed of sex. I cried tears of appreciation for the women who voluntarily made themselves vulnerable to an entire audience of peers to raise awareness for violence against women.
Opponents of "The Vagina Monologues" berate the show and criticize the actresses. They claim that by discussing rape, we are anti-men. By saying the words "vagina" and "cunt," we are vulgar. By identifying with our sacred body, we are objectifying our sex and ourselves.
I cry for them.
I admit, by giving women the strength to know that they are not alone, we may offend a few rapists. By promoting self-respect, we may undermine the ability of sexual predators to take advantage of defenseless women. By shamelessly saying the word "masturbation," and urging women to so much as look at their vaginas, we may be promoting the ability of women to experience as much sexual pleasure as men are allowed.
Understanding the power of "The Vagina Monologues" is especially important because our University has recently been the target of criticisms relating to its policies regarding sexual assault. We have begun to respond, and I am proud to be part of a community endeavoring to create an atmosphere that protects survivors of sexual assault and promotes sex positivity.Our University will continue to do so, and "The Vagina Monologues" is a performance that endeavors to promote such change.
Erika Pearson is a fourth year in the Commerce School and is performing in "The Vagina Monologues"
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