Vagina, Vagina, Vagina

This semester at Vesalius College the study abroad students decided to introduce Brussels to the Vagina Monologues...and you know what? I think we shocked them.

I am really not sure what possessed me to do so (because I do not, let me repeat, do NOT act), but I volunteered myself to take part in a monologue and was selected for the monologue about hair... pubic hair, that is.
The whole cast ended up being 14 women, 13 being students and 1 female professor, from all over the globe. It was beautiful, it was strong, it was raw... it was empowerment.

Honestly, I went to 1 rehearsal and practiced a bit before the actual performance, but just memorizing the words of my monologue telling women that they can call the shots for themselves- even in the never-ending question, to shave or not to shave?- has changed my heart and my mind about the way I view myself and the way women view themselves in general.

I'll be frank and say that I have never loved my body or been absolutely thrilled about the way I look. (honestly, what girl does?) There are always things that I think I could do better at, or work harder towards..

But, vagina monologues opened my eyes to something that I think we as women miss.

We are beautiful. We are unique. We are strong.

I spend plenty of time critiquing myself and the way I look or the way I act, but I rarely spend time considering my character, my drive, my accomplishments.

We have endured.

I can't count the number of times I have been let down by friends, heart broken by men (I prefer the term boys for these individuals though), and disappointed by family or role-models.
People always refer to scars as beautiful because they tell a story of recovery, of overcoming... well, I would like to offer the same analogy to women. Some of us are stone-cold because of injustices we have been exposed to far too early and far too often in life. Some of us are guarded because of incessant heartbreaks.

We are imperfect, but we are beautiful.

One of the girls read a poem by Maya Angelou that I think every woman needs to hear:

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Ladies, think about that next time you step in front of a mirror and start criticizing..
you.are.phenomenal.