Beautiful and Anatomical

By Alston Ramsay | Sunday, March 23, 2003

Once upon a time, Valentine's Day was a celebration of everything decent and pure between the sexes, with love and romance expressed through cards, flowers, chocolate, and whatever else the heart could entertain and imagine. No longer.

The feminists' most recent usurpation has turned February 14, Valentine's Day, into V-day, whose three pillars—Vaginas, Victory, and Valentines—seek to drag the rest of the world into the twisted, antiquated world of radical feminism. Ostensibly, the holiday is meant to first and foremost combat global violence against women, but at Dartmouth and abroad the celebrations focus on little more than sex and hedonism, and, even here, the movement fails.

V-day, in its original incarnation, is the brainchild of Eve Ensler, the latest golden calf in a long line of radical feminists. Ensler's Vagina Monologues, now a venerable institution, made its first appearance in 1996 before spawning the inaugural V-day in 1998. Since then, V-day has seen a rise in popularity and prominence; over 800 locales, many international, hosted V-day in 2002, and over 2,000 events are expected this year.

In theory, the Monologues and V-day are synonymous; according to www.vday.org, the goal is to 'educat[e] millions of people about the reality of violence against women and girls.' This accomplished by spreading 'V-energy,' which will, hopefully, lead one day to the 'V-world,' where all women are 'free to thrive, not just survive.'

The actual play, however, is far removed from these ambitions. In one of the early monologues at Dartmouth, Ashley Fisher '05 discussed pubic hair. Any type of maintenance in that area was just 'fucking weird' and a sign of patriarchal dominance. The audience tittered when she cursed, much as they did throughout the entire play. In fact, that seemed to be the primary goal: desensitize the audience to any language that could be considered inappropriate in public, from 'vagina' and 'pussy' to 'twat' and 'cunt.'

The feminist crowd will argue that the effusive use of 'vagina' and 'coochi snorcher' allows women to reclaim their sexuality. For many though, using vagina as a metaphor for femininity, womanhood, etc., does nothing more than objectify women because, in Eve Ensler's world, vaginas equal women. Sure, these vaginas may have all the trappings of humanity, but they are the essence of women, or, as explained by 'the woman who loved to make vaginas happy:' 'I love vaginas. I love women. I don't see them as separate things.'This perverted view is only acceptable because Ensler—darling child of feminists—says it is so, and she is the veritable empress of V-world.

On the heels of 'Hair' came 'Crooked Braid,' a sobering monologue describing an abusive American Indian relationship. Even within this topic, the last line berated the white man: 'They took our ways, our land, our men, and we want them back.' Somehow whites are responsible for domestic disputes within the Indian community, but I guess this is expected from Ensler.

The Monologues continued with pontifications on what one's vagina would wear or what it would say ('rock me' and 'enter at own risk,' for example). Throughout, the vagina is its own entity, signifying womanhood.

This sentiment perhaps was most clearly expressed in 'Because he liked to look at it.' This story was prefaced by Amanda Bingel, the Community Director of the River Cluster, who explained, 'This monologue is based on a woman who, surprisingly, had a good experience with a man.' The anti-male sentiment elicited laughter from most corners. The monologue started with a woman describing the failings of her latest beau. Despite not liking him, she decided she would have him spend the night. So after removing her clothes, she's shocked as he implores time and time again, 'I want to see you.' He wanted to visually examine her vagina. After she relented, and after he gazed, he exclaimed, 'you're so beautiful...you're elegant and deep and innocent and wild!' This, of course, all gleaned from staring at her nether-regions. The woman, who had characterized him as 'not attractive,' 'not particularly bright,' and 'not very funny,' was incredibly turned on. The dullard redeemed himself by seeing her as nothing more than a vagina. And that's the way it went; women are vaginas, and men are scum.

While this male bashing didn't faze me, it was later juxtaposed with a rape scene many schools performing the Monologues have axed, and for good reason. The monologue opened with a thirteen year-old girl who is accosted by her school's secretary. After being cornered in a car by the twenty-four year-old, the two proceeded to kiss, before the elder invited the girl to spend the night. Once at the apartment, the secretary gave the girl alcohol before things got hot and heavy. A steamy description ensued—one uttered with such passion and heat that the audience almost forgot it was listening to a tale of rape and child molestation. The night's passion continued in gross detail, even after the child's mother called to check in. But this relationship was, in the words of the victim, a 'surprising, unexpected salvation,' mainly because, as her rapist cooed, the vagina was 'untouched by man.' The original, disturbing finale, however, was omitted. Ensler's text has the girl explain, 'Well, I say if it was a rape, it was a good rape.'

Ensler adheres to the school of feminist thought characterizing all men as vile, wife-beating brutes.She is, however, perfectly willing to condone an illegal and immoral act—provided it is girl-on-girl.Ensler's opus is nothing more than run-of-the-mill feminist rot interlarded with foul language. There are only so many times one can yell the word 'cunt' in public before it becomes old-hat. But old-hat about sums up the Vagina Monologues.

Ensler, in her interviews of over two hundred women, from which the Monologues were culled, even went as young as six year-olds.Following 'Reclaiming CUNT,' Ensler relayed the responses of six-year-old girls to questions such as, 'What would your vagina wear?'The answers were just as vapid as those from older respondents.

Next came 'The woman who loved to make vaginas happy,' the story of a one-time lawyer turned female dominatrix—but only for women.She contrasted her previous work in the world of law with her new profession, explaining that she no longer had to wear business suits, and that there was 'no moaning' in the profession.Afterwards, the actress, Khristina Gonzalez '04, demonstrated numerous moans, from those that characterized WASPs and Irish Catholics, to the specific moans associated with distinct areas of the female anatomy.Every so often, the Monologues came back to the issue of violence against women, but these discussions were sandwiched by pure whimsy, like 'My Angry Vagina,' a fiery denunciation of non-lubricated cotton tampons, gynecologists, and feminine hygiene products.

Despite the absurdities, the proceeds from the Monologues were put to good use; the money, minus the expenses of the show, was donated to a local shelter for battered women.

The Vagina Monologues and the associated V-day events continue to be the highlight of the Center for Women and Gender's programming. The CWG, it seems, is still obsessed with maximizing the sexual revolution, so that, as explained in 'My Angry Vagina,' 'Women [will] be cumming all day long!' The Monologues are the logical extension of the CWG's prurient curriculum.Woman's Studies Professor Giavanna Munafo captured this sentiment when she silkily concluded the Vagina Monologues: 'Sexuality freely expressed is truly beautiful.'

If the Vagina Monologues typify freely expressed sexuality and the future of the women's movement, beautiful may be the wrong word. V-day may not have reached the entire world yet, but—be forewarned—it's coming.

Beautiful and Anatomical

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