but then again, i'm not entirely sure what an "average" vagina post is.
if you know, you should totally let me know.
this post is dedicated to my wonderful friend lisa, lover of llamas, model UN, and all things gnome-esque. her vagina post can be found here.
by the way, this is rated R. simply because i use the word cunt at least once. you can turn back. but i will not use that word in a derogatory manner.
anyway. this post isn't about what's going on in michigan and how i feel about it. if you know me well enough, you'll probably know how i feel about it anyway. i feel like i should be more involved in that because i go to school in michigan, but right now i'm stuck in indiana in the middle of a drought wishing that i had the power to do something in michigan. but i haven't even registered to vote and i'm twenty-one. i should get moving on this stuff.
if you don't know what's going on in michigan, you should find out. go read lisa's vagina post. it's very informative. and it's lisa and she's awesome.
but this is my vagina post! here we go!
so this starts with a choice.
1. go bowling with my boyfriend and the english honorary and the philosophy club.
2. see the vagina monologues.
jacob was really psyched about bowling with STD. yes. STD is the english honorary. we're not sure who named us sigma tau delta. but we're STD. they were going to trash the philosophy club. this didn't work out. jacob was the only STD member that ended up going, if my memory serves me well.
i was so torn. i wanted to see the vagina monologues for a number of reasons.
1. i have a vagina.
2. i missed it last year.
3. my friend sarah and my sorority grandmother were both in it and sarah had been talking nonstop about it for the past few staff meetings.
4. i have a vagina.
the only day i could see it was the day of the big nerd bowling showdown. i had RA duty the next day. and the day after that was the famous head and the heart concert. if you haven't read that post, what the hell are you waiting for? but finish this one first. out of courtesy.
i didn't want to go to the vagina monologues alone. jacob didn't want to go because he has a penis and i'd already forced him to go to a drag show, and he didn't really feel comfortable with that. i just really love drag shows.
i didn't want to sit there alone and have feelings about my vagina by myself.
i asked my suitemate, barbara, and she had plans to go out and be a saint with annalise. by that i mean i'm pretty sure they watched disney movies and pretended to be princesses.
soon i will be let in on these magical gatherings. next year, yep. princess time.
so barbara said no, because she had plans to watch tangled and color, and she saw it last year.
so i asked her roommate, my other suitemate, emily.
me: oh hey. want to go see the vagina monologues with me in like... ten minutes?
emily: YES! I DIDN'T WANT TO GO BY MYSELF!
me: EMILYS THINK ALIKE LET'S GO SEE VAGINAS.
normally i'm not a fan of things that aren't free. i mean, i get paid to be an RA, but my paycheck goes straight to my account, so i never actually see any of the money that gets secretly siphoned to my bank account. so i always feel poor. and when i always feel poor, i never buy stuff. like clothes. and chocolate and macaroni and cheese. and starbucks.
but this was going to a good cause. i don't remember the cause now. but it helps to end domestic violence, abuse, and raises rape awareness. the usual awesome feminist stuff that i'll support the rest of my life.
by the way, i'm a feminist. you should be too. feminist does not have a bad connotation if you don't want it to have one.
i just want equal rights as a woman.
so anyway, emily and i pay our four bucks and we go sit in the auditorium. we look through the program. we have no idea what to expect.
and then a bunch of girls, the cast, comes out. they lounge on a couch and some chairs. the lights are trained on them. they're wearing red, black, white. fishnets. short skirts. long skirts. revealing blouses. prude-ish sweaters.
and thus the vagina monologues begin.
essentially, the vagina monologues are different stories. because we don't talk about vaginas. according to michigan, it's a bad word. we don't say the word vagina.
it's a part of us, ladies. a big part of us. a huge part of us. our vaginas have feelings. they need to be heard. they need to get attention. they are a wonderful and beautiful part of our bodies and why should we deny them anything?
a playwright went around and interviewed women about their vaginas. all kinds of women. old women, short women, ethnic women, tall women, single women, married women, even a five year old girl.
she compiled their stories in a play of monologues.
there were titles such as this:
2. the vagina workshop.
3. my vagina is angry.
1. is it appropriate for a vagina to have hair? do you keep the bush? if a man asks you to shave it, is he worth marrying? (that's a serious question, ladies.)
2. when's the last time you looked at your vagina? have you explored it? have you really seen it? have you experienced it yourself? what is your vagina saying to you? your vagina is you, and you are it. get to know your vagina.
3. ANGRY VAGINA. your vagina wants sex. it wants a lot of sex. but it is cultured. it has taste. and by god, do TAMPONS make your vagina angry. your vagina bleeds once a month. your vagina just wants what it wants.
4. the c word. we all know it. most of us hate it. but why should it be a bad word? can't we give it a good connotation? CUNT. CUNT. SAY IT WITH ME. CUNT.
number four was performed by my sorority grandmother. she spelled out "cunt" like it was the most lovely word in the english language. she screamed it. she threw open her arms and howled. and by the end of her monologue, the whole audience was on its feet screaming CUNT! CUNT! CUNT!
i am still not entirely comfortable with that word. and i will never use it in a derogatory manner. ever.
but the vagina monologues wasn't always happy. there were monologues of rape. dismemberment. terror. loss. shame.
when the monologues were over, i went out and bought a t-shirt. it was made by the gender group that put on the monologues. it's a plain white v-neck t-shirt, and spray painted on the front are the words "GOT VAG?"
I HAVE A VAGINA.
i went back to my dorm room completely reveling in the fact that i have a vagina. i'd never really thought about it until that moment. i practically ran back to my dorm room. and i stood in the middle of the parking lot and i screamed for all the world to hear
I HAVE A VAGINA.
say it with me, ladies.
WE HAVE VAGINAS!
i was feeling so empowered by my vagina that i felt like i could do anything. so what did i do?
what any sane person does.
i put on booty shorts, a sports bra, grabbed some bleach, put on some gangster rap from hustle and flow, and i attacked my bathroom on my hands and knees.
i will tell you. i have never felt sexier than when i was on my hands and knees, scrubbing behind my toilet with a bottle of bleach in my hand and sweat dripping down my nose.
when my bathroom had been bleached and i was covered in sweat and bleach, i was still empowered by my magical vagina. i took a really hot shower and i sang loudly. i felt beautiful. i loved everything about myself.
basically, i had the greatest shower of my life at eleven at night after i had scrubbed my bathroom on my hands and knees.
when i got out of the shower and i came out in some shorts, a tank top, and i had a towel on my head, i found jacob in my room trying to tune my cello. as soon as i stepped out of the bathroom, the D string that he was tuning snapped.
he spun around and he said, "oh no! i'm so sorry!"
this is the second time he's broken my cello string.
but i smiled at him. and you know what i said?
"I DON'T CARE! I HAVE A VAGINA!"
jacob: yes. yes you do. i've never seen it. but i'm assuming that you do.
this is my boyfriend, folks.
i spent a long time not wearing my vagina shirt. i had gotten the most censored one, i didn't want to buy the one that said CUNT down the back about fifteen times. but i had never worn it on campus. i only really wore it my room when everybody had gone to bed and i stayed up late watching lord of the rings.
|the infamous (wrinkled) vagina shirt. only ten bucks.|
my dad had had ankle surgery the day before, and he needed someone to drive him to the car dealership to pick up a car part for his stick shift. he asked me if i would drive him.
i came bounding down the stairs.
he stared at my shirt. my mother stared at my shirt. i asked my dad if he wanted me to change.
he completely ignored me and and we went on our way.
i didn't feel like a complete badass wearing my vagina shirt in public. mostly because it was my vagina shirt. and i have a vagina. my vagina is a part of me, so why should i have qualms about wearing a shirt that says "got vag" in public?
but i did feel a little bit like a badass.
my dad and i had a great time at the car dealership, by the way. it was spiffy. i even helped him install the car part.
after lunch, my mom was still staring at my shirt. my dad had just completely shrugged it off, but my mom just stared and stared. which was awkward, because the "got vag?" is kind of like, right on my boobs.
finally i asked her what she was staring at.
my mother: what does it mean?
me: it means that i have a vagina.
my mother: oh. where did you get it?
me: i bought it. at the vagina monologues.
my mother: you bought it?
me: yeup. because i have a vagina.
my mother: okay.
and that was the end of that.
we have vaginas. and to the government of michigan, and the government of anywhere, we are proud of our vaginas. they are a part of us. why should this word be a bad word? this is a piece of our anatomy. this is where beautiful children come from.
this is our womanhood.
VAGINA. I HAVE A VAGINA.
this ends my vagina post.