I love vaginas.
No, I'm not some sick pervert or self-obsessed and I'm certainly not a "pimp."
Actually, I'm just getting acquainted with my opening line for this year's performance of "The Vagina Monologues."
And that's got me thinking. What's there not to love? The vagina is so beautifully powerful and profound it floods deep crimson, and its gates, so mighty, can open far and wide to bear fruits of another life. The vagina, many times, unwillingly, takes responsibility for unbearable pain and loss. At the same time, the vagina is the source of unbelievable amounts of pleasure.
While "The Vagina Monologues" began as a worldwide movement to create awareness of violence against women, it also voices the explorations of women's sexuality and, more importantly, asks: If your vagina could talk, what would it say?
That's right. It's time vaginas stood up and spoke out. After all, I'm tired of having to hide all things vagina-related. For example, my tampons. I can't ever seem to find them when that time of the month comes without notice, and I'm alarmed, rushing, scrambling my hand to find one somewhere down in the bottom of my backpack. And I can't help but flush every time I see one pop out.
But I'd beware-after all, the vagina possesses special powers. I only need one word to explain this theory: clitoris. "The Vagina Monologues'' playwright, Eve Ensler, cites the clitoris as a happy fact, "an organ purely designed for purpose, for pleasure. Constructed with 8,000 nerve fibers, the clitoris holds more nerves than any other part of both the male and female body, including the fingertips and tongue, and it has twice the number in the penis."
The performance is an entertaining ride, and it's got a clear message. The monologues' goal is to eradicate violence against women in all aspects-domestic violence, genital mutilation, violence against oneself, violence in war and violence by other women. I'm advocating that women have a space to connect and be heard as part of a healing and empowering process.
But that right is denied to so many. In New York, three students were suspended for using the word "vagina" during their readings of the monologues at their public high school. And at Providence College in Rhode Island, the president cancelled the student-run performance, and instead suggested prayer and a mass.
There's no wonder vaginas are angry. They need attention; they need to talk; they need tending; they need to celebrate. We need to celebrate vaginas-and not at some dirty, smoke-stuffed strip club.
We, women, are talking about respect. That our vaginas not confine us to sexual objects, but embrace us as human beings. Our vaginas are dignified, and so are we.
I love vaginas. I love women. I do not see them as separate things.
Neither should you.