When Vaginas Unite — THE VAGINA MONOLOGUES by V-Day Honolulu 2012

Vagina. Say it out loud, right now, so anyone can hear. Not embarrassed are you? If so, then you must have missed the V-Day Honolulu 2012 production of Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues. Otherwise, all you’d want to do is talk about Vagina—a word that sounds like a disease at best, one performer says. They laugh. I laugh. It’s true. 

The Vagina Monologues—synonymous with ending violence against women and girls—ranks among one of the most popular plays of our time, and for good reason if this production is any indication. The show—which ran for two nights at Marks Garage, with over twenty performers and six directors—made me cherish my vagina more than ever.

The juxtaposition of lighter- and darker-themed monologues kept the evening from becoming overly depressing—because let’s face it, most people don’t want to be confronted with rape and female genital mutilation—while the different directing styles provided variety.
                       
Lola Love directed two of the most engaging monologues of the evening. Ríel Uyehara performed “The Little Coochi Snorcher That Could,” a series of memories relating one woman’s troubled childhood and the trauma she and her vagina suffered. One of the longer pieces, Uyehara carried me through the pain, the humor, and the wonder of healing with the soulful innocence of her recital.

Bridget Gray reclaimed the four-letter C-word like it’s what she was born to do. Her performance emanated in waves, from her center to her tongue, and every other nerve in her body. I can’t even use that word here because it’s not allowed in print, though I’m now convinced it should be. A performance like this isn’t mere entertainment—it’s inciting.

Some of the monologues were performed by more than one woman—a choice that tended to distract rather than enhance the material, except in the case of “My Vagina Was My Village,” where the two voices represented the break a person suffers after being sexually abused.
                                               
Watching these performers—for the most part—felt like being addressed by real women. Only a few times did I think, she’s trying too hard. Perhaps that’s why this production was so affecting. The line between performer and character often dissolved, which is not to say the acting was flawless, but rather that the actors were more concerned with being honest than flawless. Honesty is potent—strong enough to change the way people think and feel, about words, about women and especially about vaginas.
                       
[For more information about V-Day, go to www.vday.org]

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