Our first rehearsal was Monday night. We had a long discussion about attitudes regarding vaginas, gender, the differences between male and female sexuality, etc. There are things I've been musing on since, such as how language contributes to behavior, and the fluidity of gender identity. (And yes, most of us do understand that the semantics of the term "Vagina Monologues" irritates many people, when many of the monologues are not, in fact, talking about the birth canal proper at all, but about the vulva, or the labia, or the clitoris. Still, "vagina" is a more universally understood term, even if it's playing fast and loose with anatomy.) (I have friends who refuse to see the show just because of that bit of semantics.)
We talked about using the word "vagina" and people's reactions to it, and that made me wonder - why does the word still carry such negative connotations for so many people? It's just a part of the body. Now, there are those who would point out, well, it's a "private" part of the body, one not discussed in polite company, but bear in mind that the interpretation of what body parts are or are not "private" varies with culture, with era, with current fashion and mores. These things are not fixed and immutable. Our great-grandparents did not mention the word "leg." Other cultures may regard other body parts as too private to show or to mention in public - maybe the navel, maybe the back of the neck, or the face. Ankles. Elbows.
There is not a single standard for which body parts are "unmentionable." Most cultures have covered the genitalia (obviously all bets are off in cold climates, which have to cover everything), but why the prohibition in our society against showing only the female breast? Its function is not, contrary to pop culture, primarily sexual - but the function of the male breast IS, yet that can be publicly displayed. There are even those who object to seeing the breast used to feed an infant.
The reason this matters is that language is powerful. It not only reflects thought, it can even direct it; how one speaks can determine how one will behave. This came up in our discussions tangentially, but the inference was clear; if the word VAGINA is unmentionable, then you are more likely to be someone who is not entirely comfortable with your own vagina, or the vaginas of others. Some women do anything to avoid touching, or seeing, or showing their vaginas, even to doctors or to lovers. But why? Why does this part of the body carry so much more psychic weight than, say, the mouth?
The other item I've been musing on is gender identity. It's always interested me, because I wasn't necessarily all that comfortable being a girl when I was younger. I have numerous older brothers (I have older sisters, too, but they're further separated in age, so I had less interaction with them.) When I was very young, I thought that I would become a boy when I grew up. I remember crying at an older sister's wedding because they put me in a flower girl dress, and I was humiliated to be wearing something that felt so wrong to me. I was frequently mistaken for a boy right up until my teens, and was always more comfortable doing "boy" things. As an adult, I've become comfortable with the gender I was born to, but still fight gender roles tooth and nail. I resent being perceived as "girly" or having stereotypical "female" traits.
Gender is not as fixed as many people assume. I have friends who define themselves as "intersex" - they may choose to identify as either gender (or neither) at different times of their lives. This baffles many people, who see gender as a strict duality - you are either entirely male, or entirely female. In fact, almost no one is entirely one or the other; we all have traits more commonly regarded as belonging to the "other." I personally believe there are an infinitude of possible genders; everyone is their own personal mixture of male and female. The only problem that creates is personal pronouns - the non-gender-specific pronouns are painfully awkward when you aren't accustomed to them.
Society wants to pigeonhole individuals into gender roles. It's easier to know how to relate to someone if you know where they "fit" instead of having to adapt to each person's uniqueness. But not all women are natural nurturers, and not all men are born to strive and compete. Forcing individuals into roles that do not fit causes much unnecessary stress and unhappiness.
And the final item in this much-too-long musing of mine is regarding the differences between male and female sexuality (this is an obvious broad generalization, especially considering the previous few paragraphs!). I heard a comedian put it this way some years ago, and it's stuck with me - and yes, it's humor, but there's some inherent truth to it, too. A man's sexuality can be compared to a windup toy. Start it up, and it just goes, simple and predictable. A woman's, on the other hand, is best compared to the cockpit of a 747, one in which all the controls have to be used in the proper sequence in order to achieve the desired result - oh, and the switches all move around every time you get in the cockpit. Another comparison I once heard that I liked was that men are like lightbulbs, and women are more like an iron. A man's sexual response just turns on, and then off, whereas a woman's may take longer to get going, but once it does, it stays hot for a long, long time.
If our rehearsals are any predictor, the play is going to be quite the conversation-starter. People will leave us thinking and talking about their attitudes toward bodies, toward sexuality, and toward gender.
--Geni Hawkins
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