The Vagina Monologues
One of the Melbourne university theatre groups did a production of Eve Ensler's Vagina Monologues last week and I managed to catch it on its opening night. I went in with very low expectations; it was after all, a college production and I thought that perhaps they might not do its controversial subject matter justice. But it turned out much better than I thought and several of the actors turned in virtuoso performances despite a few hiccups in the delivery of the lines.
This isn't a review, just a post on some of the questions raised by the play and the ways in which it gave voice to many of the taboos and fears society placed around female genitalia and around women in general.
The play was feminist in character; I am a feminist. That being said, I disagreed with its premise that women and womanhood could be represented by the female genitalia alone. But I did like that it brought into the open so many of the fears, myths and taboo that surrounded the vagina.
The vagina, unlike the penis, is hidden away from view all of the time. So unless one makes a special effort to bring out a mirror and take a good look at it, it is possible for most girls to just forget about it. As such, a woman's relationship with the vagina, is also fundamentally different from the male's relationship with their penis. I have known many men to nickname their genitals, to consider it their partner in sexual conquest, but I know very few women who have had any kind of openness about her own sexual organs. I'd go as far as to say that I know a great many women who may not even know the names of the different parts of her own genitalia. Most women tend to have an attitude toward their vagina made of equal parts self loathing and denial.
As such, the vagina can probably be said to be a good metaphor for female sexuality and the way it is marginalized as compared to the openness with which society treats male sexuality and generally the male sexual organ. There is a veil of secrecy, and of shame, that surrounds female sexuality and the vagina and the menstruation cycle is part of it. They are spoken of in whispers, referred to subtly through coded words ( most girls in Singapore still refer to their period's arrival amusingly as their "auntie's visit") and not at all spoken of in polite society or at the dinner table.
I wrote about Tammy, the unfortunate and unwitting porn star in my last post and one of my main grouses about it was and is still that she was the one being lambasted and villified for her sexual escapades. Amongst my friends, most would talk about her in disgusted tones but laud her yet unnamed partner for his sexual conquest. If one is to condemn anyone at all, why not condemn them both? Why confine the shame and the publicity to her and her alone? You see, that is the great and terrible unfairness of male and female sexuality that obviously still exists despite vociferous protests by my male friends to the contrary.
It doesn't matter that shows such as Sex and the City have managed in recent years to foreground female sexuality; at the end of the day, the girl who does act on her sexual needs is still labelled as cheap or slutty. The men still get away with anything and everything as evinced by Tammy and her boyfriend. Tammy was and is not a slut; she and her boyfriend might have acted foolishly in deciding to film their sexual shenanigans for posterity but apart from that they were two consenting adults who decided to have sex. But I could say this till the cows literally came home and she'd still have a horrible reputation in Singapore from now on.
Perhaps that has been a slight paradigm shift in societal attitudes toward female sexuality in recent years, particularly among the better educated, cosmopolitan types; but among the more traditional families, nothing has changed. Many of my personal guy friends still want (and think they can obtain) virgin wives and at the same time, sow their wild oats liberally before marriage. The double standards that existed in my parents' time, still exist now.
Women are not devoid of sexuality, and the vagina does not exist merely to serve as a tool for male sexual pleasure. This was the theme for at least two of the monologues in the play and I wanted to stand up and applaud them for being brave enough to come out and say it. I only wish I could make every single guy I've ever known watch the play and try to come to some intelligent understanding of female sexuality and to clear away all of the taboos that exist in their heads about the vagina.
Most feminists are painted as bitter, men hating harridans and I'd always felt this to be untrue. I've always felt that most women are feminist on some level, whether they like to admit it or not. After all, the essence of feminism is the belief that women deserve recognition for their work and that they should have equal standing with men in terms of political and social rights. Despite many women who deny that they are feminist, I don't actually know any woman who would rather be treated as a second class citizen and consent to be condescended to all her life. We make up half the population; what we do, how we think and our contribution to society at every level, politically or spiritually, is essential. It pains me that great literature is often only the work of men and that almost all religions sideline women and their contribution. The political and legal arenas of even the most developed countries continue to be dominated by men and I truly believe that unless more women are represented in these areas, our society always be missing out on something great.
I may not agree with every premise in the Vagina Monologues, but I respect the woman who wrote it and the women who worked on producing it. There is a gap in society, in literature and in the arts that needs to be filled in and this play is an invaluable contribution toward filling in some more of the vacuum that existed.
The play also asked two questions that I'd like to post up on my blog as a way of finishing off this post. Not because that I thought they were terribly profound, but because I'd really like to get more girls/people thinking about their attitudes toward their own body.
1) If your vagina could wear something, what would it wear?
2) If your vagina could say something, what would it say?
This isn't a review, just a post on some of the questions raised by the play and the ways in which it gave voice to many of the taboos and fears society placed around female genitalia and around women in general.
The play was feminist in character; I am a feminist. That being said, I disagreed with its premise that women and womanhood could be represented by the female genitalia alone. But I did like that it brought into the open so many of the fears, myths and taboo that surrounded the vagina.
The vagina, unlike the penis, is hidden away from view all of the time. So unless one makes a special effort to bring out a mirror and take a good look at it, it is possible for most girls to just forget about it. As such, a woman's relationship with the vagina, is also fundamentally different from the male's relationship with their penis. I have known many men to nickname their genitals, to consider it their partner in sexual conquest, but I know very few women who have had any kind of openness about her own sexual organs. I'd go as far as to say that I know a great many women who may not even know the names of the different parts of her own genitalia. Most women tend to have an attitude toward their vagina made of equal parts self loathing and denial.
As such, the vagina can probably be said to be a good metaphor for female sexuality and the way it is marginalized as compared to the openness with which society treats male sexuality and generally the male sexual organ. There is a veil of secrecy, and of shame, that surrounds female sexuality and the vagina and the menstruation cycle is part of it. They are spoken of in whispers, referred to subtly through coded words ( most girls in Singapore still refer to their period's arrival amusingly as their "auntie's visit") and not at all spoken of in polite society or at the dinner table.
I wrote about Tammy, the unfortunate and unwitting porn star in my last post and one of my main grouses about it was and is still that she was the one being lambasted and villified for her sexual escapades. Amongst my friends, most would talk about her in disgusted tones but laud her yet unnamed partner for his sexual conquest. If one is to condemn anyone at all, why not condemn them both? Why confine the shame and the publicity to her and her alone? You see, that is the great and terrible unfairness of male and female sexuality that obviously still exists despite vociferous protests by my male friends to the contrary.
It doesn't matter that shows such as Sex and the City have managed in recent years to foreground female sexuality; at the end of the day, the girl who does act on her sexual needs is still labelled as cheap or slutty. The men still get away with anything and everything as evinced by Tammy and her boyfriend. Tammy was and is not a slut; she and her boyfriend might have acted foolishly in deciding to film their sexual shenanigans for posterity but apart from that they were two consenting adults who decided to have sex. But I could say this till the cows literally came home and she'd still have a horrible reputation in Singapore from now on.
Perhaps that has been a slight paradigm shift in societal attitudes toward female sexuality in recent years, particularly among the better educated, cosmopolitan types; but among the more traditional families, nothing has changed. Many of my personal guy friends still want (and think they can obtain) virgin wives and at the same time, sow their wild oats liberally before marriage. The double standards that existed in my parents' time, still exist now.
Women are not devoid of sexuality, and the vagina does not exist merely to serve as a tool for male sexual pleasure. This was the theme for at least two of the monologues in the play and I wanted to stand up and applaud them for being brave enough to come out and say it. I only wish I could make every single guy I've ever known watch the play and try to come to some intelligent understanding of female sexuality and to clear away all of the taboos that exist in their heads about the vagina.
Most feminists are painted as bitter, men hating harridans and I'd always felt this to be untrue. I've always felt that most women are feminist on some level, whether they like to admit it or not. After all, the essence of feminism is the belief that women deserve recognition for their work and that they should have equal standing with men in terms of political and social rights. Despite many women who deny that they are feminist, I don't actually know any woman who would rather be treated as a second class citizen and consent to be condescended to all her life. We make up half the population; what we do, how we think and our contribution to society at every level, politically or spiritually, is essential. It pains me that great literature is often only the work of men and that almost all religions sideline women and their contribution. The political and legal arenas of even the most developed countries continue to be dominated by men and I truly believe that unless more women are represented in these areas, our society always be missing out on something great.
I may not agree with every premise in the Vagina Monologues, but I respect the woman who wrote it and the women who worked on producing it. There is a gap in society, in literature and in the arts that needs to be filled in and this play is an invaluable contribution toward filling in some more of the vacuum that existed.
The play also asked two questions that I'd like to post up on my blog as a way of finishing off this post. Not because that I thought they were terribly profound, but because I'd really like to get more girls/people thinking about their attitudes toward their own body.
1) If your vagina could wear something, what would it wear?
2) If your vagina could say something, what would it say?
posted by adinahaes at 11:10 PM
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