The Vagina Monologues

by Eve Ensler

Almost twenty-one years ago I adopted a son, Dylan, who was very close in age to me. Last year he and his wife, Shiva, had a baby. They asked me to be present for the birth. I don’t think, in all my investigation, that I really understood vaginas until this moment. If I was in awe of them before the birth of my granddaughter, Colette, I am certainly in deep worship now.

  I WAS THERE IN THE ROOM

  For Shiva

  I was there when her vagina opened.

  We were all there: her mother, her husband, and I,

  and the nurse from the Ukraine with her whole hand

  up there in her vagina feeling and turning with her rubber

  glove as she talked casually to us—like she was turning on a loaded faucet.

  I was there in the room when the contractions

  made her crawl on all fours,

  made unfamiliar moans leak out of her pores

  and still there after hours when she just screamed suddenly

  wild, her arms striking at the electric air.

  I was there when her vagina changed

  from a shy sexual hole

  to an archaeological tunnel, a sacred vessel,

  a Venetian canal, a deep well with a tiny stuck child inside,

  waiting to be rescued.

  I saw the colors of her vagina. They changed.

  Saw the bruised broken blue

  the blistering tomato red

  the gray pink, the dark;

  saw the blood like perspiration along the edges

  saw the yellow, white liquid, the shit, the clots

  pushing out all the holes, pushing harder and harder,

  saw through the hole, the baby’s head

  scratches of black hair, saw it just there behind

  the bone—a hard round memory,

  as the nurse from the Ukraine kept turning and turning

  her slippery hand.

  I was there when each of us, her mother and I,

  held a leg and spread her wide pushing

  with all our strength against her pushing

  and her husband sternly counting, “One, two, three,”

  telling her to focus, harder.

  We looked into her then.

  We couldn’t get our eyes out of that place.

  We forget the vagina, all of us

  what else would explain

  our lack of awe, our lack of wonder.

  I was there when the doctor

  reached in with Alice in Wonderland spoons

  and there as her vagina became a wide operatic mouth

  singing with all its strength;

  first the little head, then the gray flopping arm, then the fast

  swimming body, swimming quickly into our weeping arms.

  I was there later when I just turned and faced her vagina.

  I stood and let myself see

  her all spread, completely exposed

  mutilated, swollen, and torn,

  bleeding all over the doctor’s hands

  who was calmly sewing her there.

  I stood, and as I stared, her vagina suddenly

  became a wide red pulsing heart.

  The heart is capable of sacrifice.

  So is the vagina.

  The heart is able to forgive and repair.

  It can change its shape to let us in.

  It can expand to let us out.

  So can the vagina.

  It can ache for us and stretch for us, die for us

  and bleed and bleed us into this difficult, wondrous world.

  So can the vagina.

  I was there in the room.

  I remember.

  V-DAY

  THE STORY OF V-DAY AND THE COLLEGE INITIATIVE

  by Karen Obel, Director, V-Day College Initiative

  I didn’t find V-Day. It found me.

  I had been on the board of directors of the Feminist.com website for just over a year when I went to a board meeting to which Eve Ensler had been invited at the suggestion of Kathy Najimy. Kathy thought some of our goals at Feminist.com overlapped with Eve’s goal to stop violence against women. Kathy was right: By the end of the meeting, V-Day was conceived.

  The V-Day Benefit Committee was made up of women whom each of us invited to join and still others whom they invited and so on. Our first project was V-Day 1998, the event that was to launch the V-Day movement and the first of many events to raise money and awareness to stop violence against women. V-Day 1998 was a celebrity benefit performance of Eve’s play The Vagina Monologues at New York City’s Hammerstein Ballroom Theatre. The performance had sold out, but outside on the street, hundreds of people still clamored to get in. Everyone wanted to be a part of V-Day, the groundbreaking event that forever changed the meaning of Valentine’s Day.

  For me, the tone was set by Glenn Close during rehearsals the day before the performance. I was in the box office when I heard her ask Eve for direction on the subtleties of pronunciation in her particular monologue.

  “Is it ehr, ehr, ehr or ahr, ahr, ahr?” she asked.

  Out of context, the question might seem pedestrian, even silly. But hearing Glenn and watching her prepare, I became acutely aware of how profoundly committed the V-Day 1998 participants were to the event and how clearly they understood the importance of the messages of The Vagina Monologues and the V-Day movement. And the audience got it too. The men and women, students and businesspeople, mothers and activists in the theater—alternately laughing, gasping, silent, crying, and cheering—received the performances with open arms, hearts, and minds. By the time Glenn Close reached the climax of “Reclaiming Cunt,” she had worked the audience into such a frenzy that when she demanded their response, they could not keep themselves from answering.

  Despite the resistance of potential sponsors and advertisers to V-Day 1998—for some reason, a lot of people have trouble with the word vagina—the event was a huge critical and financial success. The New York Times, which initially would not run a paid-for ad for the event because it considered the logo too suggestive, eventually accepted an altered version, and ended up reviewing the event as “the hottest ticket in town.”

  Much hard work and dedication were required of the Benefit Committee to make that first V-Day the success that it was. Our responsibilities grew dramatically as the demands on us increased. I started as a “regular” volunteer, was made the committee’s secretary, and became coordinating producer by curtain time. During the year in which we worked to make it happen, I would often ask myself why I was giving so much to V-Day, an organization working to stop violence against women, worthy though the cause was. After all, I am fortunate never to have been a victim of violence. Yet in the months leading up to the event, I would come home every day from my more-than-full-time job and spend three to ten hours answering e-mail, drafting and sending letters and other documents, creating seating plans and invitations, and so much more. I was tired all the time, but I couldn’t have been happier or more inspired. I floated through my days joyfully and with a strong sense of purpose.

  On the night of the show, I sat in the audience among friends and family, my mother next to me. At the end of the performance, Eve came out on the stage and asked those of us who were or knew victims of violence to stand. I stood. My mother stood. Almost everyone in the audience stood. I began to understand “Why V-Day?”

  A few weeks later, the V-Day Benefit Committee met to revel in the success of the evening and to discuss what we could do better next time. For the first time in a year, we didn’t have an imminent event to focus on. For the first time in a year, I heard the women I had come to know as strong, brilliant, creative, and self-sufficient, and whom I thought I knew so well, tell stories about violence in their own lives that stunned me. These women had been so selflessly dedicated to mounting the production that, during a year of endless meetings, not once did they allow us to stray from our purpose by calling attention to themselves. When they finally spoke, they shared experiences of abuse so horrific that I wouldn’
t have believed them if I hadn’t heard them with my own ears.

  When I left that meeting I was numb, but again I knew “Why V-Day?” I realized that many people I knew and would come to know have had similar experiences of abuse, similar stories to those I had heard that night. I decided I would do whatever I could to change the world so as to eliminate the causes and sources of violence against women, to prevent their devastating effects.

  Since the first step to eradicating a societal problem is making people aware that it exists, the V-Day Benefit Committee decided that the goal for 1999 would be to get our message out at the local level. We came up with the idea for the V-Day College Initiative. We would invite colleges and universities to mount productions of The Vagina Monologues on Valentine’s Day, the proceeds from which would go back into their communities through organizations working to stop violence against women. I volunteered to direct the project.

  I had high hopes for the College Initiative, although I had no idea what to expect, how it would be received, or what it could realistically achieve. I began by going on-line to research colleges and universities in the United States. I spent countless hours each day for weeks sending letters to women’s studies and theater departments, professors, student activities organizations, health educators, campus theater groups—to any person I thought would be likely to read my letters and respond—at every school on my various lists until the pictures and words on my computer screen started to blur. If people did respond, they were sometimes curious, sometimes suspicious, sometimes hostile, and sometimes enthusiastic. Some had heard of The Vagina Monologues, although it wasn’t as well known then as it is now. Many were interested in the idea of the College Initiative but couldn’t believe that it could be so accessible and straightforward, that there was no cost to participate and no hidden agenda.

  As things started taking shape, my contacts kept me posted on their progress. Sometimes they expressed concern about the small number of people showing up for auditions, the difficulty in getting people to attend their productions, and the criticism and backlash from those who didn’t see the merit in what they were doing or were outright opposed to it. Occasionally, they would ask to withdraw from the Initiative—because resistance at their schools became too strong, because they didn’t believe they had the support or resources to mount the kind of event they envisioned, or because they found they were neglecting their personal responsibilities. In these instances I was back to square one, but with much less time to find replacements. Sometimes I was able to convince people to persevere. This was the case with the folks at my own alma mater, Cornell University: They stuck it out, ended up participating for two years in a row, and have had successful events and tremendously rewarding experiences. Like the Cornell team, those who made it all the way through wrote excitedly of sponsors coming out of the woodwork, favorable local press, the sheer joy and power they felt from being part of the V-Day community, and their astonishment at their own ability to pull off their events.

  In the end, my targeted letters, the V-Day website, www.vday.org, and word-of-mouth worked to bring more than sixty-five schools in the United States and Canada to the V-Day 1999 College Initiative. I was initially disappointed in the final total, but then I realized how significant it was to have gotten any schools at all to participate. More important, I thought of the devotion of those who took part, and came to consider the College Initiative no less than a monumental achievement for V-Day. Our activities were covered extensively in the media, and they introduced more than 20,000 people in North America to V-Day and The Vagina Monologues. During the week following Valentine’s Day, I received an extraordinary number of inquiries from my contacts asking when they could start to work on the following year’s program:

  We found out about V-Day just about four weeks ago but were able to pull together a performance in that short time. Our drama department wasn’t interested in participating, so we recruited anyone who wanted to read: We had professors, a few women from the surrounding community, sculpture majors, women’s studies majors, law students. I have to say I am truly in awe of these women. They all did an absolutely wonderful job. We were laughing and crying, some gave me goosebumps listening to them. We had just under 200 people show up and every one of them was blown away. I don’t think they knew what to expect but after the show there were so many people coming up to me saying they wished they had brought this person or that person, that more people needed to hear the message.

  I just can’t say enough. We’ve received so much positive feedback already. We had a really diverse audience and they were so receptive and supportive, it was just a great feeling all around, and I’m sad it’s over! But we all can’t wait until next year! I need to sleep for about a week, then I’m ready to start planning again! Karen, just say the word!

  —Michele, Northern Illinois University College of Law, February 19, 1999

  We realized we would have to do another year of the College Initiative. So we did. Three things distinguished the V-Day 2000 College Initiative from its predecessor: sponsors, the Empowerment Workshop, and worldwide penetration.

  After sponsoring a small but significant event in 1999, the basis for a layout in its February issue, Self magazine decided to sponsor the entire 2000 Initiative. Planned Parenthood Federation of America came on board as the primary sponsor of the 2000 Initiative’s special event—the Empowerment Workshop. On November 6, 1999, students from a hundred of the participating schools came to New York to attend a workshop led by Eve. Eve taught the students how to mount a production of The Vagina Monologues at their schools, and then they went to see her perform the play at the Westside Theatre. Students spent the weekend immersed in V-Day events, cultivating friendships with their fellow College Initiative participants. In feedback after their local V-Day events, many who had come to New York highlighted the Empowerment Workshop as one of their favorite Initiative experiences.

  While the V-Day 1999 College Initiative participants were from the United States and Canada, some of the participants in 2000 came from other parts of the world, considerably expanding V-Day’s reach. One hundred and fifty schools joined us, from San Francisco State University in California and Cornish College of the Arts in Washington State to Oxford University in England and Friedrich Schiller Universität in Germany. Based on figures reported by the participating schools, it is estimated that about 65,000 people attended V-Day 2000 College Initiative events and that, through these events and the associated publicity, more than 15 million people were introduced to The Vagina Monologues and V-Day around the world. When the figures from both College Initiatives are added to those of people who have celebrated V-Day through celebrity benefit performances of The Vagina Monologues worldwide, the total number of people who have been touched by V-Day in the three years since its launch is simply unimaginable.

  Once again, Initiative participants clamored for a repeat performance. So I will be directing the program for the third year in 2001.

  While most of the people who volunteer to coordinate the College Initiative at their schools are college-age women, there are also some men, some professors, some campus theater directors. Some are feminists and some are just regular folks with no previously embraced causes. For various reasons, all see the merit of bringing V-Day to their communities. And despite the fact that all participating schools mount performances of the same piece—The Vagina Monologues—each event is unique. Some are intimate staged readings. Others are extravagant theatrical and social happenings. Many schools offer additional activities, information, and resources in conjunction with their events. There are “Vagina Dialogues” following performances. There are sexual-assault counselors on site. There are fund-raisers and parties. There is music and art and dance.

  Arizona State University constructed a forty-foot inflatable vagina to surround the entrance of its venue; the Rochester Institute of Technology did its production simultaneously in English and American Sign Language; Washington University in St. Lo
uis displayed the Clothesline Project in conjunction with its event (the Clothesline Project, started in Hyannis, Massachusetts, in October 1990, works to stop violence against women by encouraging women who have experienced abuse to tell their stories on T-shirts that are then hung on a clothesline—society’s dirty laundry for all to see); a “Feminist InfoFest” ran alongside Middlebury’s performance; the University of Nebraska, Lincoln, offered a raffle (with prizes from local restaurants, massage wellness clinics and salons, artwork donated by local artists, and a free annual exam from its local chapter of Planned Parenthood) and an information/activist booth sponsored by the Women’s Studies Association in the student union; the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, had a “V-Day Wall” set piece—a collage of the history of V-Day, with images of the cast, words, and valentine hearts.

  As these examples illustrate, the College Initiative events are as varied as the people who produce them.

  Although the College Initiative was originally conceived to spread the V-Day message to a larger, grassroots audience, three other important outcomes have materialized in the course of the project.

  First, for many of the young women and men who choose to participate, it is one of the biggest and most demanding projects they have ever undertaken. There are basic challenges, such as securing a venue for the production, locating funding and sponsorship, holding auditions and selecting a cast, assembling a production team, publicizing the event, pursuing press coverage, rehearsing, selecting beneficiary organizations, and presenting the actual event, all the while juggling the daily responsibilities of being a student. Less common but often more difficult challenges have arisen at many of the schools. These ranged from event posters being defaced to actresses and funders pulling out at the last minute to threatened job stability, departmental dismantling and event disruption, and even hostile state legislative action. Arizona State University’s V-Day 1999 production of The Vagina Monologues was cited by House Appropriations Subcommittee on Education chairperson Linda Gray as one of the reasons she had submitted a proposal to eliminate $1.6 million in funding for the women’s studies programs at three Arizona universities. Ms. Gray subsequently withdrew her proposal. At Washington University in St. Louis during the 2000 Initiative, a group of fraternity members posted antagonistic flyers and threatened to disrupt the V-Day event. But the student director turned an intimidating and potentially destructive situation into a positive and constructive one: She invited the men to her production, where they watched in rapt attention. Apologizing to her after the show, they confessed that they hadn’t realized the severity of the problem of violence against women.