From its not-so-humble beginnings in the mid-'90s as the Off-Broadway sensation that dared people to say its title, The Vagina Monologues has grown into a movement. Less than a play and more than just a piece of theater, this collection of first-person anecdotes, confessions and indictments has become a rallying point for women to reclaim not just their sexuality, but their innermost selves.
Eve Ensler, who collected and adapted the personal stories that make up the monologues, heads V-Day, a global organization that works to raise money and awareness to stop violence against women and girls. Each year around Valentine's Day, the piece is performed in various configurations, from campus readings to all-star benefits, across the country and around the world.
The monologues range from comic to horrifying, poignant to edgy. "My Angry Vagina" is a humorous rant about the indignities inflicted by tampons, douches and OB/GYNs. "My Vagina Was My Village" is a compilation of testimonies from Bosnian women in Serbian rape camps. "The Flood" sees an elderly woman overcome a lifelong distaste for sex. And "The Little Coochie Snorcher That Could" (one of many vagina synonyms the show celebrates) is about an adolescent lesbian experience with an older woman.
The performances at the Academy of Music this Saturday will be the first professional staging in this area since a touring version came through seven years ago. Proceeds will benefit the Women's Fund of Western Massachusetts, which supports organizations working for women's educational access, economic equity and freedom from violence.
This fully staged production departs from the usual format of a static reading. It's also a departure for all three of its performers. Connie Casagrande and Julie Waggoner are members of the comedy improv troupe Villa Jidiots, and Evelyn Maria Harris is best known as a singer, formerly with Sweet Honey in the Rock. I spoke with them and their director, Lisa Rowe-Beddoe, last week.
Advocate: What was it that particularly attracted you to this project?
Casagrande: You know how you see some shows and you just feel ,"Oh, I want to be a part of that"? I've wanted to be in it ever since I first saw it, and I finally said, "I'll do it myself." I spoke to Julie about it last year and now we're co-producing it at the Academy.
Waggoner: When I saw it at the Calvin, I went in not really knowing what to expect, and came out feeling joyful and funny and lively and inspired.
Harris: When I was asked to be a part of this, I had in mind the many times I've seen The Vagina Monologues, which has always been readings and not a staged theater piece. So I didn't know I would actually have to memorize! I'm an old dame, 58 years old, working with half-timers. It's been quite a challenge for me.
Casagrande: It's not just three women sitting on stools. We're three really great friends and we're telling each other these stories.
Rowe-Beddoe: We've set it around a red velvet sofa. As they tell each other these stories, they take on the different characters and create different spaces.
The Vagina Monologues has been around long enough that the word—and the other language in the piece—has ceased to shock or embarrass. Or has it?
Waggoner: Rehearsing it over and over, the words and attitudes and events become less fraught, but it took me a while to feel a little more comfortable. I've been selling ads for the program, and I no longer flinch when I call somebody up and say, "Hi, this is Julie Waggoner and I'm working with The Vagina Monologues." The first couple days I was sort of like, "The, um… ", but I got to the point where I was calling up OB/GYN places and saying, "We do vaginas, you do vaginas!"
Casagrande: I have no qualms about getting out there and saying the things that women maybe want to say internally and just don't have the nerve to. But if they hear another woman able to rant about the frustrations about those gyny visits, they can go, "Wow, finally someone feeling the same way. I hear you, sister!"
In this always-controversial piece, perhaps the most contentious monologue—among feminists as well—is "The Little Coochie Snorcher That Could," which has also been called "The Good Rape." What do you think about that?
Harris: That is one of the ways that people talk about it, and I don't agree. I would not use those words for that monologue. I feel it's a love scene, it's not a "good rape." For me, there's no such thing as a "good" rape. That's an oxymoron.
Casagrande: There can be good things that come out of bad things in life. That little girl was molested by a man first, a friend of her father, and that's horrific. A lot of young girls who are raped and don't have any positive influence later on in their life go down a deep dark road. This woman didn't, she became a strong woman and she found herself and that's amazing.
Do you think the show still has the same power—and relevance, for that matter—that it did in 1996 when it was first seen?
Rowe-Beddoe: There's something very empowering about it, the fact that it is performed all over the country on V-Day—that grassroots thing that Obama's talking about and we're getting more and more empowered to do again. I would like to think it will be dated at some point, when all women and all human beings are connected to themselves. I'm New Age-y enough to want us all to be in touch and to have found ourselves. That's what's powerful about it.
The piece has also been criticized as anti-male.
Casagrande: I wouldn't put on a production that was anti-male. I think it has strong messages for women and men, on what women do encounter in their lives, both positive and negative. Actually, I think it's a great date play. There's laughter, comedy, and also a sensitive side. I think it will make for great discussions. Plus there's sex, there's moaning… it's a positive production in every way.
The Vagina Monologues: Feb. 21, 7 and 9 p.m., the Academy of Music, 274 Main St., Northampton, CABOtix.com or (413) 582-1332.
