vagina monologues

i really really enjoyed the production of the vagina monologues tonight. while at some moments it was humorous and in your face, at others i found myself deeply moved and making a conscious effort to hold back emotional tears. to say i was touched is an understatement.

for an hour or so, i was presented a world in which i have never experienced nor will i ever experience. i am not a woman. i am not a female. i am not a girl. i am not any of these. while the distinction and seperation is somewhat obvious at the biological level, it goes much deeper than that. of course i don't know (nor will ever know) what it's like to have a vagina. but more than that, i don't know (nor will ever know) what it's like to be a person with a vagina. there is a whole cultural/social experience out there that i cannot know, but can only be told of and anecdotally shown. (and no, my few hours as a woman does not count).

what hit me even more tonight was the realization that, while i cannot have and know this other world, card-carrying vagina-toting women who do have this shared experience have been largely culturally banned from sharing their experiences with eachother. these very real and very important aspects of their lives have been compartmentalized and stored away behind a re(op)pressed barrier of taboo. this prison of female sexuality and experience leaves the phallic powers (who have been given free reign for the past several millenia) with largely uncontrolled and uncontested power.

i could go on and on, but i'm going to stop here.