Reflecting on The Vagina Monologues

[Commentariat newbie Corydon Shea takes a personal look at this month's production of the Vagina Monologues.]

The Vagina Monologues is one of those plays that most people have seen or, at least, know about. Arguably, it is famous for being a beacon of womanhood and sexual liberation. Personally, having seen The Vagina Monologues a few times, I have always supported Eve Ensler’s aspiration to put an end to violence against women.

However, having been born a woman who felt more like a man, I found I could support the ideas represented in The Vagina Monologues but not make them my own. Then, I heard that this year’s production was going to include new, original monologues and I knew I had to be part of it. I would call the director’s decision to include original pieces daring, because three months ago, when we started the writing process, most of us had not written anything. I wrote three other monologues before settling on the poem that I performed.

What I learned through the writing process is that it’s not very easy writing about something, like gender, when your own is ambiguous and you’re still struggling to understand yourself, let alone trying to inform others in a transparent way. There were a few points in the writing process when I was unsure whether I could finish a final piece, yet I kept writing because I wanted to create a space for my experiences, which continually felt confined by expectations of femininity, which felt very different from who I was.

Now that the show is over, I’ve had some time to think about both the positive and more critical responses to this year’s production. The majority of the responses I’ve gotten from people were positive. Many people have told me that they were struck by the power of the voices in the Original Monologue section, which to me speaks to the strength found in letting people tell their own stories. What I found impressive is how we were all able to pull together and successfully combine so many elements. In fact, I’m still not sure how we did. With all the different components, it sometimes felt more like a circus than a theater production, but I really think those risks are what made it stand out.

I have heard some people refer this year’s production as containing porn, vulgarity, and viewers have made all sorts of comments that surprise me. These critiques seem to take aim at the representations of sex, and language regarding women’s bodies, that we used in the show.

This makes me wonder two things. First of all, why must we relate expressions of sexuality to porn? And secondly, why do we equate feeling empowered enough to use words like “cunt” or “pussy” in a play about the lives of women with being vulgar? Just because it may be uncomfortable for people to see women in a sexual context does not mean the sexual imagery we created was lacking substance. If we wanted to merely show pornographic images, we could have saved a lot of rehearsal time. Instead, we worked collectively to create a production that explored women from as many angles as possible, including, but not limited to, their sexual identities and desire.

Finally, I want to thank the amazing group of musicians, production staff, theater techs, actors, and audience members who all supported one of the best experiences I have had during my time at Columbia.