Vaginas

It's that time of year again--the time of year when colleges and community theatres join forces with Eve Ensler to make a ruckus about women's rights.

If you've been living in a vacuum in the US for the last ten years, Eve Ensler is a writer, performer, activist, and the author of The Vagina Monologues. Every year, thousands of volunteers across the nation and around the globe get together to stage a collection of monologues both funny and heart-wrenching in order to raise awareness and funds for anti-violence groups and community charities. This is known as V-Day.

This year in Boulder, both Naropa and the University of Colorado will be hosting events. I participated last year in Theatre O's community production, but I just can't bring myself to do it again.

"But... why?" you may ask. "This is perfect for you! Activism and theatre? AND women's rights?!!"

True, true; there is a lot to commend The Vagina Monologues and the V-Day campaigns. If you've never heard these stories, please support your local V-Day campaign this year and find out how appalling the statistics are regarding violence toward women. You can locate the performance nearest to you by clicking here. I absolutely recommend attending as an audience member--you will learn something, you might be changed.

Performing in the benefit, however, I'm not so thrilled about.

I participated* the Vagina Monologues last year with Theatre O. This year, I would like to implore all the V-Day 2011 organizers everywhere to think very carefully before you call your fellow volunteers a vaginas. I really shouldn't have to say this, but by addressing me as a vagina you are, in fact, reducing me to my sex organ and giving yourself away as ignorant of your cause.

The correct term [*nodding head expectantly*] ladies and organizers, is Vagina Warrior. Ya--that last part is important. See how vagina becomes an adjective now instead of a pronoun? See how instead of calling me a vagina, I've now become a warrior? No self-respecting woman would tolerate a man calling her a vagina. Why are you, my fellow warriors, calling me a vagina?

I assumed last year that calling the cast 'vaginas' was a quirk of the particular set of (tireless, fantastic!) organizers I was working for. I thought maybe it was the ladies' equivalent to 'nigga, please!'. However, I'm disappointed to report that I just recieved an email from the coordinator of Naropa's campaign with the subject line: "Calling all vaginas!" Bah! Even my Happy-Hippie diversity sensitive University can't get this right!


So, in summary, go support your local V-Day campain in February. I will forgive you all your vagina-name-calling trespasses as I join in solidarity to stop the violence. Now go out there and do vaginas everywhere proud! *wink!*

And please, please, please stop callng me a vagina.


Thank you.




*Okay, so technically, I did NOT actually perform in The Vagina Monologues last year because I caught the Death Flu opening night and was down for the count--more than ten days, in fact! (I also missed a rehearsal because I got kidney stones. See, it was divine intervention. God didn't want me to do The Vagina Monologues.) It was the first time in my history of theatre that I didn't perform and had no understudy. I played one of the emcees, basically, and the other ladies stepped up and learned my lines and cues the afternoon of opening night. I heard it went well, but I was laying in bed with a head full of snot contemplating my infectious demise.