I Was There In The Room

By Sabrina Leigh Boyer 

I was there in the room when the audience exploded in orgasmic laughter at the sound of moaning. I was there in the room when Stephanie, the woman who introduced the idea of performing “The Vagina Monologues,” came to our Women's and Gender Studies office to suggest her idea, and I was there when the women on stage donned their red feather boas, and spoke of stories and secrets long forgotten.

I was there in the room the second night of auditions, when more than twenty women came to speak about their vaginas, all of them nervous and brave. I was there when older and younger women, tall and short women, big-breasted and small-breasted women, plump women and skinny women, blonde women and brunette women, stood up on stage and told the stories of other women.

I was there when a man volunteered to direct these women. These women were faculty women, staff women, student women, mothers, sisters, aunts, nieces, daughters, wives, grandmothers. But more importantly, these women were also vaginas, vaginas that had something to get off their chests, to get off their minds, to share with both men and women about what it's like to have a vagina, be a vagina, celebrate a vagina.

I was there in the room opening night when more than 200 people sauntered through the door and gave us donations for the Clara House, a domestic violence shelter, bringing over 700 dollars on our first night. I was there during our matinee show, when over 100 people attended the performance and we made over 450 dollars. I was there on our last night, while it was cold and icy, when we raised another 600 dollars. But more importantly, I was there when we raked in over 1700 dollars in donations against domestic violence.

I was there, in the room, when the stories of comfort women, a euphemism coined by imperial Japan , were raped and forced to submit to brutal treatment at the hands of soldiers during the Asia and Pacific wars. This story brought tears to eyes, and I was there when the word “no!” sent ripples of recognition through the crowd.

I was there in the room when an angry vagina griped about cold duck lips, about the simple seduction of the vagina, about those exams.

But most of all, I was there in the room when generation gaps were bridged, and faculty, staff and students came together to produce a production designed to fight domestic and sexual violence. A community of people, organizations, and friends came together for three performances to make a difference in the lives of many, and walked away with a greater sense of awareness, understanding, and appreciation of vaginas, of domestic violence, and perhaps, themselves.