The Vagina Monologues foster empowerment
The international movement that is The Vagina Monologues found its way into the Perch on Feb. 28. Students, not just feminists and hipsters, packed the small space eager for some much-needed womanly catharsis. From the collage of performers in the bathroom comparing and applying lipstick to the pink vagina cupcakes with little edible pearls in the center, tth rendition of the monologues at St. Joe’s was, what one student called it, “a wonderful night for liberals.”
I attended the event completely unaware of what to expect. Sure, a name like The Vagina Monologues is pretty telling, but I was still curious and honestly a little nervous. Even just thinking the about the word “vagina” and about my own anatomy had me blushing.
Even though I arrived half an hour early, the Perch was already filling up fast. Shockingly, I recognized guys from my residence hall clad in their gym shorts with that signature tough guy smirk on their faces. What on earth were they doing at the Vagina Monologues? I looked around, still dumbfounded by the surprising representation of St. Joe’s frat boys, only to find that surrounding me, waiting to see the show, were all different types of students.
I had expected to see a certain type of person there–you know, the adorable hippie girl wearing Birkenstocks and a Stronger Together T-shirt and those clear, super rounded glasses that only look good on this type of person. Of course, there were more than a handful of those students, but what really astounded me was that everywhere I looked, I saw a wide range of people in the audience, which I found utterly moving. To my left was that guy in my theology class who barely speaks. To my right was my English professor from last semester. In front of me were three friends I know from Phi Sigma Pi, and behind me were girls from my suite and on my floor. I saw diversity and unity all around me.
The performance was astounding. Each of the performers captivated the audience in ways I had never seen before. Their voices were soothing. Everyone there watched as each of the women embodied such powerful characters and encouraged positivity. They wanted us to believe in vaginas, to adore ourselves the way we should.
As they formed the words of the monologues they had memorized, I saw their distinct animation, elegance, and bravery. Though all of the women reciting were dressed in black and red, there was this unique and bountiful color in their voices. Standing in high heels, wearing red lips, or dressed to match the character they were playing, each movement, each word, each rolling tear was captivatingly candid and enchanting.
This was the raw reclaiming of womanhood that many in the audience needed to experience. Tears fell down cheeks and silly smiles were exchanged between friends. The turnout was a beautiful testament and tribute to women. The Vagina Monologues tackled the taboo of women’s sexuality head on and displayed to the women and men of St Joe’s the importance of equality and acceptance. Not to mention, it provided a major boost of confidence to the dozens of female students who realized that we can all use some empowerment sometimes—a little pussy power is good for the soul.