this past weekend I saw the Vagina Monologues. though I wouldn’t have gone if three of my friends weren’t performing, i was pleasantly surprised by the production. Written by eve ensler, the vm was first produced in 1996 and has received rave reviews ever since. naturally, this heartless cynic who detests anything that sounds overly “feminist” has avoided the experience. this weekend, i was impressed that the vm declared “i love vaginas” rather than “i hate men”.
andrea was brilliant as a brit chick describing her fictitious experience at a “vagina workshop”, where she was elated to discover that, in fact, her clitoris had not slipped off in the ocean. other monologues discussed pubic hair, brands of “moaning”, vagina connosoires, birth, sexual abuse, and coochie snorchers. though occasionally poignant, this adaptation of the vm was mostly comedic, which i don’t think was the original intention of ms. ensler. idealistic dialogues regarding violence and world peace were over-simplified and felt “thrown in”, clashing with the clever surrounding comedy.
overall: laugh-out-loud and occasionally moving. no regrets. well worth the $15 I had found on the street two days before (what a wonderful world it would be if found money was required to go to the arts!). still, i am no more compelled than i was last week to celebrate my “cunt”, though i can imagine for the vaginally repressed the vm could be quite an awakening. Everyone has that favorite bit that makes them proud, be it a vagina, breasts, butt, eyes, or a full-bodied boosh. I suppose more women should be celebrating their genitalia (heavens knows men sure like to celebrate theirs!), and that’s what the vm is all about. Taboo taboo.
me, i’ll stick to celebrating my calves. want a bite?
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