The Vagina Dialogues
Eight years after hearing about it for the first time, I finally watched The Vagina Monologues. Wish me a happy birthday since I’m being reborn. On second thoughts, don’t say a word. Just listen as we speak – my vagina and I.
I hated being a woman. The restrictions, the rules, and the fears of my mother, made me angry.
I hated being a woman. Being smaller built than the boys, slower than them at games, lagging behind them on my bicycle, my scrawny legs pedalling furiously to keep up. I never could.
I hated being a woman. It took me a long time to get used to my curves. I walked like my flat-chested 12-year-old self till I was 17. Till a classmate told me that it wasn’t the right thing for a girl to walk with such a straight back. Till, a boy said, “You walk with your boobs thrust right out at the world.” And when I did get used to them, I took them on with a vengeance and used them as lethal weapons. Bait? Hah! Call them Venus fly-traps! I loved their power and I hated them for the compromise they were.
I hated being a woman. Bleeding every month, feeling pukey and giddy-headed and sticky and smelly.
I hated being a woman. 10 years old and being told, “Boys can do whatever they like. But a girl’s reputation is like glass.” Twelve and my tuition teacher’s voice, “What a horrible laugh, so loud and monstrous! Look at Sonya, how prettily she covers her mouth when she laughs. And she doesn’t make a sound.” Thirteen and being admonished, “Sit with your legs together. Only a slut sits with her legs apart.” Yes, I really and truly hated being a woman.
But I didn’t always. I didn’t know I was a woman for some time. And then suddenly I did. Or more accurately, I suddenly knew he was a man. He introduced me to his manhood and asked me to pat it, hold it, and feel it.
Oh, stop! I wanted to scream. But I didn’t. I held myself back. And I held myself in. Realizing suddenly that if I didn’t, everything inside me would fall out of the hole. And in that moment, I separated my vagina from me.
Sometime later, I summoned up the courage to tell my parents. I said he had tried to kiss me once. ‘Tried to’, not did. ‘Once’, not many times. ‘Kiss me’, not…
My classes were stopped and we didn’t speak about it again. I gave up trust that day as well as faith in men. I even stopped hugging my father. I assumed a genderless identity. And later, sexuality was paraded as an accessory, not experienced from within.
As the years passed, I built armour upon armour. The strongest of them was the decision that when I was uncomfortable or hurt or unsure or unwell, no one would know, least of all the person who caused me pain. I banished the fears. I suppressed the blushing and giggles. I stifled innocence and wonder. I held back pain. I shut down tears. I sent them all to the dungeon to keep my shameful prisoner company.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~
I didn’t speak of it for ten years. One day a neighbor asked my mother about the guitar lessons I’d taken since she wanted to send her 8-year-old daughter to them too. When my mother told me, I asked her to tell our neighbour what had happened. She admitted that she was too embarrassed to. I said, “If someone had told us the truth a decade ago…” and I left the room. There was nothing more to say.
Four years later, I was playing a silly game with my boyfriend, slapping and giggling. Then in a dramatic flourish, he pinned me down and held my wrists. That’s the last thing I remembered. The next thing I knew, he was shaking me very gently and asking, “What happened? I was only playing.” I didn’t say a word. Apparently, I’d gone all stiff and began whimpering.
My vagina was locked away into a dungeon when I was nine and went into silence after that.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~
As I watched the monologues and the vaginas of women around me sing and squeal and laugh and moan, I asked myself,
If my vagina could speak, what would she say?
And I heard her stammering, painfully shy reply so clear it made me cry.
She said,
I AM SORRY.
I’m sorry I disappointed you.
I’m sorry I hurt you.
I’m sorry you are in pain.
I’m sorry that I remind you of my existance.
I’m sorry I exist.
I’m so very sorry that I didn’t make you happy.
I’m really sorry that I don’t make you proud.
I’m sorry that you’re ashamed of me.
I’m so, so very sorry.
And as she spoke, her fellow prisoners stepped free from two decades of confinement. I had scratched off the worst I’d seen in my life and sent them down to my vagina, keeping the best bits for the part of me on show to the world.
My poor vagina, surrounded by my shame,
my guilt,
my pain,
my bad memories,
my nightmares,
my anguish,
my betrayal,
my agony,
my frustration,
my sorrow
…and my tears.
She cried, my vagina cried. And for the first time in years, I did too, with her.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~
Small wonder then that my relationships failed. Such a hellish place it had turned into that I’d only send those I wanted to banish down there. No wonder the very worst of men appealed to me and the very worst in them turned me on. And even they were petrified by what they found there.
I hated doing it in the dark.
I hated doing it on my back.
I hated doing it in bed. Or a couch. Or a car. Or in the open.
In fact, I hated doing it so much that I never did.
Those who came to visit were offered a gracious cup of tea and then lulled into a battery of tests – a moat, a dragon, an army of defences. And those that got past, walked up to the gates to find them locked. No entry into this love lane, we’re shut, you’re unwelcome, go home. They did.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~
My new friend calls me a child and tells me that there’s a little girl he sees when he looks at me. Now I understand. At long last, I’m in the throes of an emotion nearly long-forgotten – TRUST. I banished it to my basement along with the other more tender emotions. If other people trust with their hearts, mine has made its home in the hovel downstairs. I trust from deep down there, like a slender creeper growing out of the ground. And what do you know? He’s right after all. My vagina thinks she’s only nine years old. That’s the last time she breathed free. Sweet child of mine indeed.
I used to be a sweet child. Warm, affectionate, trusting and open and always getting into scrapes. All of that went away with the confinement, right down into my vagina which is everything I am not. Sweet, pure, soft and warm. And it stayed that way for twenty years despite the confinement.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~
The book was wonderful. But the play brought it to life. It made me laugh (not smirk) and cry (not scowl). It gave my vagina her freedom and her voice too.
This is for Mahabanoo, Dolly Thakore, Avantika, Jayati (the moaner!) and Sonal Sachdev, the wonderful, spirited ladies who made last night come alive at Prithvi Theatre. You made me whole again. You brought me back to life.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~
If my vagina were to dress up, what would it wear?
Well, it’s worn iron shackles for two decades. Now, if she could, she’d like something light and airy – preferably nothing at all. 😀
~O~O~O~O~O~O~
I read Lolita when I was eighteen. It was a revelation. One more step in what turns out to be a long journey. A journey of healing. A lot of people I’ve discussed the book with say that it is a sick book, making excuses for paedophilic behaviour. But I think, they just don’t know. Of all the people, I can hardly be an advocate for child abuse.
But reading Lolita gave me some perspective on what happened to me. I suddenly saw my abuser as a human being – a very bad and flawed human being, a sick human being but a human being nevertheless. Not a monster, but a human. And human beings can be overcome, overpowered and even forgotten. Almost.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~
About 5 years ago I was at a doctor’s clinic when I suddenly realised that the man sitting across me was my former guitar teacher. I was shocked that it had taken me that long to recognize him. Even more shocked at what I felt – nothing at all.
In my memories, he was a big-built man. But in person, after all these years he just looked so tired, so small, so weak, so obscure and so old. I can’t change what happened and it would be a lie to say that I’ve forgiven. This is a wound that cut me so deep, that it bled me right out of the right to be angry and seek revenge. Seeing him again was like someone smoothing over the scars of the wound.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~
I didn’t have the courage to put this up online immediately. I had to ask a few friends about it. Two of them told me that it was deeply moving and should be shared. One cautioned me that I should remember to ignore any weird reactions. Finally, two others told me about their own personal accounts of horror. And in the end, that’s really what gave me the courage to share this.
Happy birthday to my vagina. And welcome to the world of the living again.
You hated being woman, and you’d any day hate to have been man instead.
And I’d hate if you were any other than the person you are. The tallest of boys wouldn’t have matched your depths, and the strongest of women could at best have achieved as much strength as you’ve possessed.
You’re an extraordinary woman, and all you should do is celebrate that 12 days from now 🙂 Cheer up.
I dont know what to say.. just that its all pretty brave!
Varun Sadanas last blog post..Two D’z – High Oil Prices
A long time ago, I’d vowed to write only things that’d make people laugh – but you post has made me think that over.
I’m not as brave as you, though. Not just yet.
Hi, this is my first time your blog. I got your link through Meetu.
I have heard a lot about Vagina Monologues. Have you written this from play or are these your own story? If latter, I am touched. I want you to know I am there and I wish you well in life. And I think you are a courageous woman to speak uninhibitedly about it.
Poonams last blog post..Movie Review: Thoda Pyaar, Thoda Magic
Of everything in this post, THIS is what left me a mix of so many feelings that I wish there were a single word for it:
“But reading Lolita gave me some perspective on what happened to me. I suddenly saw my abuser as a human being – a very bad and flawed human being, a sick human being but a human being nevertheless. Not a monster, but human.”
This feeling is beyond numbness, it’s beyond admiration, compassion, pity (for the human monster), disgust (at the monstrous human), pride (at being one of the one-half of the world population, mostly the only ones capable of such an evolved sentiment), and yet it’s a mix of all those. But most of all, I think it gives me a chance to have faith…
Faith that as long as there exist those who take the choice of looking at even their abusers as humans – flawed humans – but humans, all is not lost in the hope of a better world…
Thanks for sharing this.
Monsoons last blog post..Unpredictable Weather
I can’t believe this is true..
it’s so real..
btw the comment rambler has written makes so much sense.. but he forgot to realize that the posts has resemblance with the play “the vagina monologues” and thus this made it quite intriguing.. don;t count everyone in that group of people..
people expected the posts to be something comedy, something to laugh about ..
But it came different surprisingly..
This past week I have been wondering (after some heartful comments left on my blog and in the posts of others, admissions really), I wonder if all of us are wounded in some way. Your story was particularly compelling … and I’m not sure if my continuing shock is a result of your incredible honesty … or the fact that you do NOT see this man as a monster after all he stole from you. I mean, I wasn’t there and I’d like to lash out at him! I’d like to know why some people have a need to hurt others. I’d like to know what it is that allows the hurt to survive, often surviving to become the most compassionate of people. Mostly, however, I’d like to know what it would take to end the cycles of physical and emotion violence that we inflict on each other. Certainly, cumulatively, we’re smart enought to find a way!
I am not sure if I should be writing this here..but some of the facts on my blog has been disturbing lately.may be I should have sent this in an email to you.. I am curious how many people landed on this post by the search engine..I wouldn’t be surprised if there were humongous amounts of visitors because of the post title.. has blogworld gone so bad and perv?
ramblers last blog post..Shades of a curious mind
Gud you came out with all your feelings… Feel free and Happy birthday.
Very Brave and Bold Post…must say wonderfully written which have come across after a longtime… take care
Hugs
Netra
Congratulations! Not only for the courage and lucidity of this post, but for your new found freedom. 🙂 It is difficult to express what I feel, and so will say no more.
Manasis last blog post..Not just X, Y
Reading it shook me up.. Wat amazes me is dat most of my gal frnds hv an abuse story 2 tell.. Stuff like these kp happenin all d time,bt not many hv d courage 2 talk abt it.. Thanks gal!
I had goose bumps while reading this all the way through. I too, as a few above, wanted to rather presume this was a script that you were writing until I reached the end.
I’ve been staring at this comment box, desperately searching for words to write, for over 10 minutes now – and I still don’t really know what to say.
I venerate your fortitude on deciding and being able to pen this down.
Hi!
I can really imagine the state of mind of a woman because I have an elder sister and I am the sensitive younger sibling who is really loved by all in the family.
I can really understand the pain that a woman would take to live peacefully without any regrets. However, I would like to say that because you’re a woman, saying you’re a weak being is no excuse but just a stupid reason to live a woman’s life with sorrow.
I think a woman is strong and not weak. Nor any human being is weak. Weakness can be measured only in comparison but we have strength which is undiscovered and underutilized.
After all, a mother gives birth to a male child and not otherwise.
We have power within our mind, body and soul.
We can learn to defend our selves and can even control our lives.
We aren’t powerless human beings.
We choose to be winners and losers in our lives.
It’s always our choice. Life gives us plenty of choices.
You may say, a woman’s life is tough but I had say she’s unconsciously chosen such a life.
To end the whole note, I had say “A man can just be bold but a woman can become both, bold and beautiful”.
Your posts was dreadful and I can’t believe it to be soo REAL.. it really hit my head and I can’t believe it was so real.. beautiful posts and REAL too.
Thank you idea smith
There are so many of us with painful stories of how we ceased to be while very young.
So many who just let hurt lie in a corner, hoping it will die with time, only to realize later on that not only is this hurt alive, but warping our lives.
This is a reminder and a challenge
ciao
me
This was absolutely poignant and expressed ever so beautifully.
Not sure if there is something like the ‘right thing to say’- but I congratulate you on your newly found liberation (mind and soul) and cheers to the new you 🙂
Rock on!
Simply beautiful… xtrmsly courageous of u to put it all up here…
This post of yours reminds me of a quote by Charles DuBois, ‘ ……To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become’
Happy Birthday ?!
Brave, really brave. Reading this, I couldnt but hang my head in shame at being a guy.
nikhils last blog post..Two Years
I am dumbstruck after reading this post. Stunned! I don’t know, what to express here, but have a simple hope, that this pouring of yours, will relieve you. Relieve you for an eternity.
..variations happen to all of us child. the risk of being a girl, the burden of innocence.
amazing you are and amazing write up.
A Cynic in Wonderlands last blog post..En route to Mulshi – cloud kissed peaks
That was so poignant and brave. You have crossed your first hurdle by coming out in the open with this.
I am sure you’ll have many more brave discoveries of your wonderful self and will grow.
All the best 🙂
pratss last blog post..Was that all???
A fresh breath of air in the stuffy dungeon of locked thoughts
hey
i have no words….
it takes something more then guts to write such a post….
but i m sure this wud have brought relief to u..
Kudos to u ..Bravo..
Viveks last blog post..The Wishlist of the 20 something…
felt good after reading this bitter truth.
why it is misrable- most of time
Now who was it that wrote “Fraility, thy name is woman”?
Vijays last blog post..Dasavathaaram & Vinayaka Chathurthi
I don’t know what to say. I can only imagine the pain, the frustration. I hope writing about it has helped. But, I do admire the courage in you to fight it, live with it and write about it. Bravo!
Amruthas last blog post..Of etiquette and stupid advice
For once I am glad I am a boy. Actually these thoughts had never crossed my mind when I was younger…call me self-obsessed, ignorant, whatever… It was only after I entered into a serious relationship did I first realize how many hardships a girl has to face in her normal day to day life. God makes a woman bleed every month, and for no fault of hers! The society makes so many demands from a girl that in the years of growing up all she does is put up an act and in the process loses some of her true essence. But the good thing is that today more and more women are being educated…we see more and more women joining the corporate world every passing day. These are the women of today, the mothers of tomorrow. And when they have daughters one day they would certainly not let them go through the hardships they had to face when they were young. I will like to thank you for such a wonderful post 🙂
Animesh Rajs last blog post..When things went haywire
Wow!
brave and courageous – wonderful and a poignant way to put the whole issue in perspective! methinks, you should have just got up in the clinic and slapped him with one of those sakshi’s slippers – wud have been good riddance 😈
Kirans last blog post..Back after a loonngg hiatus!
Kudos to you woman! And so glad that the woman in you is finally awake.
Best wishes always.
That was so so powerful. And so incredibly brave of you to come out in the open and write about. Wow.
Elucidationss last blog post..
First of all I admire your courage to come up with such a post, I can’t even imagine what it would have felt like going down the memory lane again and writing it out. Cheers to you lady!!
I always keep ranting on my mobile that girls don’t come out in open and talk about things like sex and all but today reading your blog and then jumping on to a few links from your blog, I am pretty glad to know that there are girls who can talk about such things, just that I havent met them in person.
Stumbled upon your blog for the first time today but think am gonna be following it now 🙂
We’ve all been there at some point. sharing makes one realise that one isnt alone. We need to change a mindset (tall order that!) but that’s imperative. the mindset of men towards women and women towards themselves.
Twilight Fairys last blog post..Social media & Blog camp
dont know what to say. your post is an incredible act of courage.
As a father of two daughters who are growing up, I am scared silly every day until they come home – and keep asking them how has their day been… Not knowing where to draw the line between being too intrusive in their lives and between seeming uncaring.
I want to wait and watch. To know the reactions that people have to this. To see if what started our conversation holds true among other women too,
“Almost every woman has been either abused or raped.”
I want to pray and hope that that line is wrong, but I know that the statistics will give the rest of us some peace. Either way.
Pragnis last blog post..Please tell me I’m not the only one..
it requires more bravery to live in the world as a woman, everyday’s a battlefield….
I bow down to your honesty and courage to write this. As a man I may not understand what the bigger picture behind this post must have been, but I am moved certainly.
I applaud your courage, your honesty, and grace. Best of luck to you.
brave, beautiful and touching.
thanks for taking the courage to put into words, what i once went through a long, long time ago and have felt ever since…
meetus last blog post..thoda pyaar thoda magic – Review
“Even more shocked at what I felt – nothing at all.”
I wish I could say that.. And what I went through probably wasn’t as horrific.
I wish more people would talk about this, and not hide it away.
And hail the Vagina Monologues! 🙂
RukmaniRams last blog post..I have some trouble shooting
I am here after a long time and you just made me feel how much I missed this page. And I just became your fan all over again! Very few can write this. Like this.
Adithyas last blog post..The North South Divide in India: Language, Culture, Prejudice?
Giggles, smiles and coy laughter,
A tear shed behind them all,
It’s time to light the darkness now,
It’s time to let the shadows fall.
(Nicely written. Intense. Bebe, I didn’t know! Wow. Hmmm.)
Bravo! Thanks for writing about it.
mekhalas last blog post..No Kid Left Behind?
Dropped in thinking that it’s a light and funny rant.
Couldn’t bear to read it completely.
If I had believed in God, I would’ve prayed for you.
Wish you/noone has to go through painful memories, experiences are hard enough.
Been there, can understand.
It sounds quite awful. I can only imagine what you would have gone through. I also feel rage building up when I realize that predator has gotten away all these years with no consequences whatsoever.
I hope writing about it leads to some closure and healing..
Lekhnis last blog post..The many forms of tourism
Till the last line, I was hoping this was all part of the script of the play and not ur personal story. I dont want to belittle ur post by just admiring ur guts to write this – this was something more than all that and can’t be enough praised. Just a sick feeling deep inside that a lot of guys are like this, many many more who are varying shades of this which can be anywhere from comment passing to staring. They are everywhere – when educated people are like this, uneducated loafers don’t need a reason to be civilized. Admire the guts of a lot of modern women hidden in remote corners of the country who have withheld so much crap inside them at various stages of their adolescent life. If only there was a solution…
Rajivs last blog post..Remembering the fun posts from my IT Services days!
I used to always wonder why there was a melancholy feel about your blog. Now I know that it’s no accident. I may never even begin to understand the pain. But your writing has at least taught me that there are great depths that I may never know.
Considering how difficult it was to read through your post, I can well imagine what it must have taken to put down those painful memories in writing…
I admire your courage.
Exorcising those ghosts from the past is surely half the battle won?
Radas last blog post..The Conspiracy Theory
You brave, brave lady. I’m glad you found it within you to let it out…it can only get better.
It really is scary how many friends I have who have gone through similar abuses – and these are only the ones I know of. The worst thing about all such stories are the way it causes people to shut everyone out. But you shouldn’t have to – it was NOT your fault.
This is not something that happened to you – it was DONE to you. And for this, you should never have to be ashamed. Angry, upset, horrified – yes, ashamed – nuh-uh.
Warm hugs
??!s last blog post..Friday Fun Fact/Fiction