A Monologue 

Yesterday, Husband and I went to see The Vagina Monologues. I’d heard of it but didn’t know the content, didn’t know if it was a play or what the deal was. Was it going to be funny? Some sort of off-beat love story? *spoilers*

These probably aren’t spoilers since there’s no plot, per se. Funnily enough, it was a bunch of monologues – personal stories, statistics, statements of fact. Amazing acting, poignant and hilarious. 

Everyone could agree with lots of the content, could relate to the stories and commiserate with the facts. I’m sure it was eye-opening for some, if not all of the men present in the audience. But I did not like to see them nodding or commiserating. They don’t know! They can never know. Of course, that is a brash generalization and perhaps they do know, if their mother/sister/someone has been treated in a way touched on during the show. 

I wished that there were no men in the audience so the women could have this to themselves, to celebrate their bodies and take back what is sometimes a dirty, rarely-spoken word, and to commiserate and share stories of terrible things perpetrated by men. I wished that the men would look each other in the eye and realise that they do these things and make people feel this way and be resolute to change, instead of clapping a hand on their partner’s knee and making sad faces as if that’s all that can be done.

There were volunteers before and after the show to let the audience know about survivor services in the area, and that was certainly eye-opening to me. I’ve seen a few big-name movies (Stolen, 2011 w Ryan Reynolds; Trade, 2007 w Kevin Kline) about trafficking but hearing about it in my local area is awful. The I5 corridor is apparently filthy for trafficking and slavery.

There was also a birth story, and one from transgender people. All powerful in different ways. I highly enjoyed the show and can’t recommend it enough.


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