As of 8:30 last night I knew that there would be a blog to
come of my experience. I felt inspired
and I also felt the buzz of the other women around me feeling inspired, excited
and proud to be women and I tend to want to write things like that down. I was first surprised to learn that McKinney
was hosting “The Vagina Monologues”.
Albeit, surprised and utterly thrilled. I must fully admit to my cynical nature here,
because I automatically started tearing the production to shreds in my head. I naturally assumed they would tone it down
for the sake of “the area” and the thought of them taking it to PG13 wasn’t
authentic therefore was going to be a “wah wah waaah” in my opinion. I’m a strong believer in “go big or go home”. But I knew how pleased I was that it was
being performed at all, that I knew I was going regardless. I am pleased to report they edited
nothing. The lady to kick-off the show
came dancing out and was so amazed that she had to address the turnout. She told of making the notion of actually
hosting “The Vagina Monologues” in McKinney, TX a reality. She said the response she got was: “You want to do ‘The Vagina Monologues’ in
McKinney? ………………………MCKINNEY?” The way she approached the subject garnered a
united and knowing laugh throughout the audience. She joked of McKinney being very khaki and
suburban but she knew we could handle it.
Last night proved that.
It was as true, real, raw, raunchy, funny, gut-wrenching,
shocking, beautiful, informative and as uniting as I remember. I read the book the first time circa 2001,
lounging poolside, and I read it in one setting. Once the 2nd degree burns healed,
I had an amazing tan and a major appreciation for what I’d just read. I also watched it multiple times when HBO
made the monologues into a special. I
was pleasantly surprised by the crowd. It
was far more diverse in age and ethnicity than I’d expected and it did have the
occasional man. I specifically use the
term “man” because only a true man could be brave enough to attend, appreciate it
for what it is, laugh more than expected and cringe along with us in the
intense moments. It is a room of people
slowly uniting and letting walls down and insecurities and fears go. I was upset to hear after I’d invited a
friend to this, that someone without real knowledge of what it is, nor had read
the book, told her it was a “feminist” thing in a derogatory connotation. I highly disagree… It’s not about man-hating -- let me make that
clear. It is a portrayal of women, interviewed
from very young ages all the way to women in their 80’s about things we don’t typically
talk about; things we’ve been told we’re not supposed to talk about. Things like sex, vaginas, sexual abuse, knowledge
of one’s own body, etc. The answers and the
reasons behind those answers were compelling…
There are equal stories of good experiences and bad experience; it is
merely accounts. Some are hilarious and
painful in one fell swoop.
The women were all dressed stunningly in red evening dresses
and dripping in sparkly jewelry. They
kept the rollercoaster of emotions in full-swing and seamlessly lead you from
tears back into laughter. Then there are
the funny gestures between friends in the audience. Between women who know each other’s secrets and
enjoyed a good giggle and nudge at a friend that’s obviously experienced what’s
being discussed. I saw women of all ages
doing it and they ALL looked happy and girlish.
I was most pleased at the ages I noted in the audience. There were two lovely ladies seated in front
of me, I would guess to be in their 70’s.
They were your typical dainty older women; hair coiffed, jewels on,
smelling of powder. I made sure to watch
their reactions throughout the show. I
wanted to see what moved them, what horrified them, what embarrassed them, what
offended them. You know something? They laughed when I laughed and they cried
when I cried. I felt a very strong
desire to have particular women in my life sitting right alongside me. I wanted them to see this, experience this
and be proud of being a woman. I’m not
sure I could’ve kept my granny around for the whole thing or from the
occasional seizure but I’d sure love to try.
I think most of all I’d want them to see that we can experience it
without shame. That it’s okay. I’m certain they would laugh in between
clutching their purses.
After the show the women descended on downtown feeling very
stimulated. It seemed most all the
ladies had agreed to a post-show cocktail.
Our gift bags were bright red Raising Cane’s bags. When we arrived at the pub, my friend threw
her bag on the bar and the guy next to her started innocent conversation and
asked: “Oh you went to Cane’s? What did you get?” My friend responds very casually: “Oh no, we just got back from the ‘Vagina
Monologues’!” It was a very loud pub so
you could see his eyes widen and begin searching his brain to see if he’d heard
the word the word “vagina” for sure. If you
spotted a group next to you toting their bright red gift bags, you knew they’d
seen the show, too. All the ladies were
abuzz and seeking out and embracing other ladies toting little red bags and
random conversations blossomed. It
seemed all the guys enjoying a calm pint at the pub were startled by the sudden
swarm of proud, chatty women. It was an
uprising of women suddenly very comfortable talking about vaginas and had no
intentions of shutting up about them for the rest of the evening. It seemed like the testosterone quietly
excused itself because estrogen had taken over, was running rampant and a veil had
been taken down. It was awesome and an
experience I recommend to all women and their vaginas. Oh and men, too, of course.
