Now that I'm officially published...

I may as well post it here....

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I distinctly remember the first time I saw The Vagina Monologues. I was a first-year university student in London, and like a sizeable number of seventeen year olds, I had a painfully awkward relationship with my body and sexuality. Imagine my horror, then, as I watched the lovely actress on stage talk about her pubic hair with disconcerting ease. Through the entire performance, I bit my lip, shuffled my feet, played with my hair. I was shocked and appalled, but most of all, I felt...dirty. Afterwards, as everyone around me laughed and quoted and gushed, I tried to analyse my stinging discomfort. I'd been brought up in an unusually liberal household which prevented me from blaming parents - everyone's favourite scapegoats. Finally I decided that I hadn't managed to escape the "morality" of "Indian culture." Four years and a Sociology degree later, I can spew fancy words like "gender roles," "socialization" and "patriarchal hegemony." At the time, however, I attributed my embarrassing prudery entirely to my upbringing in a country where democracy is vitiated by flagrant censorship, "obscenity" laws and criminalized sexualities.

Needless to say, when I heard that Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues was coming to Mumbai, I was stunned. The play has always been an object of controversy regardless of country, and I was pleased to know that the play, as directed by theatre veteran Mahabanoo Mody-Kotwal, was successfully adapted to the Indian context. For instance, the infamous “flood” monologue – a poignant piece that deals with shame, and consequently, repression of female sexuality – is narrated hilariously with stereotypically Parsi mannerisms, as opposed to the original piece where the character speaks with a New York Jewish accent. However while minor details such as the names, situations and cultural backgrounds of the characters were changed for maximum effect, the content of the monologues remained essentially the same. The fact that Ensler’s words are as pertinent to the life of an average Indian woman as to an average woman in America shows that patriarchal views of female sexuality are insidiously universal. In this country, female sexuality has been forced into well-wrapped wedding saris that only come undone for purely functional reasons, or on occasion, when husbands beckon. While male desires have been deemed a biological inevitability, the sexual urges of women are met with trenchant criticism if they dare to traverse the threshold of marital and reproductive duties. It is no wonder that we, as a society, share an uneasy relationship with divorces, lesbianism, bisexuality, sex workers and single women.

Where exactly does The Vagina Monologues fit into this rant? Well, The Vagina Monologues is not merely a play written for and by feminists – yes, I said the dreaded ‘F’ word – it is a form of rebellion, a step closer to the elusive goal of female emancipation. Contrary to its most popular critique, the play does not reduce women to their sexual organs, but merely acknowledges that our identities as people are inextricably linked to our sexualities. Each monologue lovingly embraces the existence, beauty, pleasure and desires of vaginas, while grimly reminding us of the violence inflicted upon them. In one monologue, the character launches into a well-deserved tirade against douches, tampons and the “cold ducklips” used by gynaecologists. In other pieces, characters refuse to nervously walk away from derogatory words used to describe female genitalia. Instead the play tackles them head-on, reclaiming the slurs to paint them in hues of pride and dignity. In this way, the play acknowledges the underrated power of language, and wields it effectively to facilitate comfort with our own bodies. Similarly, The Vagina Monologues is decidedly not anti-male. Encouraging women to accept their bodies and desires as natural and beautiful does not stem from a hatred of men, but rather from recognition of unequal power dynamics.

I guess my adverse reaction to The Vagina Monologues was not because I’m Indian – it is because I’m female. I’m proud to say that today I can say the word “vagina” with the nonchalance accorded to concepts buried under the dust of everyday life. It is undeniable that female empowerment is deeply connected to sexuality, and The Vagina Monologues uses tales of love, anger, fear, violence and even humour, to make sure the relationship is one filled with happiness, pleasure and equality. The overtly sexual nature of the current Bombay media is only a veneer for our deep discomfort with candid sexuality. We may greedily devour Bollywood sex scandals, but when it comes to issues such as sex education and dance bars, we scurry frantically, trying to protect ourselves from supposed moral debasement. When an unmarried, sexually active woman is respected, when women can be proud of their bodies without being attacked, when bar dancers are praised for being self-sufficient women – that is when we can call ourselves a sexually enlightened society.