My vagina, my vagina, my vagina |

My vagina, my vagina, my vagina

“My vagina, my vagina, my vagina.”

Every so often, that little melody from “The Vagina Monologues” runs through my head. It reminds me of the empowerment the play brought to thousands of women.

I saw “The Vagina Monologues” at the Vilar Center in Beaver Creek. I expected either to laugh hysterically or dismiss it as glorifying female genitals too much – like an overdramatic feminist performance art piece in, say, Boulder, that strives to exalt women for no apparent reason, other than that it can.

Instead, I ended up laughing, cringing, feeling proud and almost crying.

“The Vagina Monologues” isn’t gratuitous or superficial. It’s full of funny scenes and titillating details, but it doesn’t stop there. It delves into the mystery, the pain, the history, the creative force and the reclamation of a body part that people don’t often speak about.

The play gives multidimensional voices to vaginas. Some are heart-wrenching. Some are sensual. Some are crass. Some are empowering. But all are genuine.

Kimberly Nicoletti can be reached at (970) 668-3998, ext. 245, or by e-mail at

Where are the ear plugs?

“My … ” I can’t do it.

Call it squeamishness or call it decorum. I don’t particularly want to say the word “penis” over and over just to make a point.

I will agree with Kimberly that “The Vagina Monologues” isn’t superficial. But at times it is gratuitous.

Both times I’ve seen the production in the past, I’ve been moved by some of the haunting stories the play communicates. I’ve even laughed at the all-too-sparse portions of self-acknowledged absurdity in some of the writing.

But by and large, I became bored and annoyed with hearing the same word over and over and over and over again. I also got tired of feeling guilty for not immediately understanding the supposed depth associated with its simple utterance.

I don’t talk about most of my own body parts very often, either, but I don’t feel compelled to reclaim them.

Then again, maybe I’m just another insensitive male lost with my clubs in the Stone Age.

Aidan Leonard can be reached at (970) 668-3998, ext. 229, or

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