Vagina Monologues Rehearsal 1
There’s a football match on and hamburger stands sell cans of pop, I watch a man shovel chips, they glisten in the traffic lights as the bus lurches forwards. This time I don’t forget my gloves and hat and get off at the right stop, but spend five minutes trying to cross the road as double lanes of cars both ways intermittently flood, eventually one side jams long enough for me to pass. The football fans jostle somewhere else. Inside the glass door the woman says, Vagina Monologues? perkily from behind reception, she says it to any woman who comes in and sends us upstairs.
We rearrange the soft chairs in pastel orange and greens and read ‘my mother slapped me’. I make a slapping sound by hitting the paper I hold, it reverbs against the air. We make eye contact and lean forward to look at the floor where our imaginary collective blood pools. The piece is a collection of women’s voices, each sentence is a different experience, a different speaker, and I pass from ten years old to twelve, I am slapped and sent to confront dirty bedsheets, my mother tells me to drink this, to give this note, to wear this shirt.
The machine gurgles as it heats more water for the second cups of tea and coffee. A woman bends over a sheet of paper and gestures to herself.
Tickets for the production of the Vagina Monologues I’m reading in on the 7th and 8th of March can be found here:
£5 full price, £4 concessions at Gorse Hill Studios.
- Small Stone: Vagina Monologues (beccaaudra.wordpress.com)
- The Vagina Monologues – Happy V Day! (makeupandmirtazapine.com)