 |
| Allyn West is a junior journalism major and writes 'Charmingly Dishevelled' for the Daily News. His views do not necessarily agree with those of the newspaper. |
Vagina.
The word (and all the resulting connotations) is uttered 136 times in "The Vagina Monologues," originally an Off-Broadway play that was performed this weekend at Ball State by a group of brave, brave women.
In concurrence with any and all who attended, I can say the performances were tremendous.
Humans are inclined to choose favorites, so nature is forcing me to nod in the direction of the woman who acted in "The Woman Who Loved to Make Vaginas Happy." If you saw the play, you'll know what I mean. If you didn't, the monologue was about a woman who decided to quit practicing corporate law and enter a more taboo, more exciting occupation with much less paperwork: a dominatrix.
The actress whipped and moaned her way through a frenzy of confession, innuendo and euphemism. She ended her performance with replications of a variety of sexual primal screams that were both funny and powerful. After writhing through simulated orgasm, she winked one last time and exited stage right to approving, thunderous applause -- although I'm sure there were a few male audience members unable to clap.
I'd feel bad for those poor suckers (and their dates), but a lot of people pay $4.99 per minute to hear the same thing.
Anyway, the play was good, non-traditional and simply, weird. Especially for me. You may have noticed in the photograph accompanying this column that I am male, and thusly, do not have a vagina.
Understandably, then, through most of the performances, I couldn't relate. I have never had cold "duck lips" forced into my birthing canal, for example.
And when I returned to my life after the play, people asked me how it was. It was great, I'd say. Then, they'd ask, "What's it about?" And this is where the writer stumbles. My mouth is full of marbles. "Well, I don't know," I'd say.
They'd laugh and call me names and leave to call their boyfriends. I'd be left with the question rattling in my head, pounding a nail into my parietal lobe.
I'm not sure what "The Vagina Monologues" is about. And maybe that's the point. It's no surprise that men do not understand women.
Authors write vague, awful books on the subject that Oprah will eventually promote, but since the dawn of time, obviously, very little progress has been made. I'll spare you any bad stand-up comedy riffing, but bluntly, guys aren't good at girls.
But, no matter what we don't think or know, men aren't from Mars and women aren't from Venus. That's stupid.
Still, as that terrible metaphor does suggest, Earth's two dominant species are, believe it or not, different. This is all we have to understand. It's ridiculous to expect otherwise.
Really, though, all inter-gender relationships need is a little peace, love and understanding. Just ask Elvis Costello. He's no Dr. John Gray, but it sounds all right to me.
So, maybe the play is about empathy, understanding, or even sympathy. Maybe the monologues were written to help men deal with women. Maybe they were written to help women deal with themselves. Maybe it's entertainment. Maybe it's social commentary.
Maybe the play means to bring our penises and our vaginas together, closer in the spirit of kinship and mutual reverence and acceptance.
Maybe.
Write to Allyn at aswest@bsu.edu
Read More
Three Air Jam teams take home the win
October 12, 2012Nineteen teams shimmied, shook and flipped for a sold out John R. Emens Auditorium on Thursday night during the 25th annual Air Jam.
Bill Clinton Speaks at North Central High School
October 12, 2012Former President's Speech Could Have Effect on State Senate Race
