The Vagina Monologues

 

Last night, Bristol welcomed a one-night showing of the episodic play by Eve Ensler, The Vagina Monologues. Having been doing the circuit for 15 years, the three-woman production has seen all manner of actresses take the hot seats – from Oscar winners to TV stars.

Billed as ‘hilarious’ and ‘moving’, The Vagina Monologues seems a tricky show to market, especially with the ‘v’ word in its title, titter titter. I overheard one man walking past the Bristol Hippodrome complaining that seeing the word ‘vagina’ on a poster was offensive, and should be covered up to protect children. Seriously! I wonder if the same was said of The Puppetry of the Penis, which the same theatre put on a few days earlier.

Tonight’s production was performed by Louisa Lytton (EastEnders, The Bill), Wendi Peters (Coronation Street) and Zaraah Abrahams (Waterloo Road). And while they were all impressive, Wendi was the standout star – even if it was hard to shake off thoughts of Cilla Battersby!

Based on Eve’s ‘Vagina Interviews’ conducted with women from all around the world, the monologues give voice to human stories, all in some way related to the vagina: sex, love, periods, hair, masturbation, FGM, rape, birth, orgasm, the multitude of alternative names for the vagina… all presenting the vagina as an organ for empowerment.

Understandably, there’s been some debate in the feminist community about The Vagina Monologues. For instance, several critics have damned the play as too anti-male and for implying that heterosexual relationships are fuelled by violence.

As such, I wondered how the (few) men in the audience would feel hearing women talk about themselves and their relationships with men like this? More to the point, as a feminist who is very aware of the PR battle we face when trying to convince men that feminist women are not anti-sex, man-haters, I wondered if this play might in fact convince these men that feminist women are the angry harridans the media falsely portrays us as.

Men are even applauded by the cast for attending, which strikes me as patronising. Why wouldn’t they attend? This is an accessible opportunity to gain an insight into how women think and feel. It’s worthwhile anyone attending.

Here’s a recent review of the play by a male reviewer. It’s interesting to read his take on it. In it, the reviewer Rob writes: ‘It is disquieting to imagine the women one knows thinking like this. How many really do?”, before asking: “Do men have anything about which they feel similarly superior?” My comment here is not in any way directed at Rob personally (I don’t know anything about him), but this tack is dredged up when anything pro-women appears – what about the men? Why does a play called The Vagina Monologues need to pander to men? It is clearly about women.

And being about women, women dominated the audience. All sorts of women. Which was great. Although there were also a number of groups who were on hen nights, maybe thinking this was going to be a raucous, cackling, smutty show. And the feeling of my companion and I was that the performance on stage was great, but the performance from some audience groups was disgraceful. Because while it was fine (if irritating) for the hen parties to shriek in the monologues about, for instance, different types of orgasm, it was wholly inappropriate and disrespectful for the same women to giggle and talk among themselves through the monologues about rape in the Congo, for instance. We observed at least two such groups rightly being asked to be quiet by Hippodrome staff.

The Vagina Monologues is not a hen night show! It’s a thoughtful exploration of a part of the body that often goes ignored. The jarring discomfort of sequencing a monologue about gang rape next to a monologue about the joy of lesbian sex is effective in how it jolts you out of your mental comfort zone, but I wondered how much of the message about the gross global abuse towards women was lost on the hen party goers. Not least because they were giggling through it.

But The Vagina Monologues *is* an important show. The caliber of actresses it has attracted, its ability to fill theatres, and its lasting reputation are all testament to its future. It’s fantastic to hear the vagina being discussed, embraced and simply talked about – when normally, but inexplicably, it’s considered a taboo word. And by mixing serious and fun monologues, Eve Ensler is ensuring that the global inequalities for women are brought home to Western audiences, as well as highlighting more local women’s issues.

Through the success of The Vagina Monologues, Eve has formed the charity V Day, which is a global non-profit movement that has raised around £50m for women’s anti-violence groups worldwide. You can’t sniff at that.

Stripping the illusion about lap dancing

 

There was a gripping article in the Guardian last week that offered a different perspective to lap dancing to that which is usually touted by the mainstream media – ie that lap dancers are wealthy, empowered and fulfilled. Instead, the Guardian article proposed that the reality for lap dancers is a much more desperate, abusive and damaging experience, often fueled by alcohol and drugs in order to tolerate the physical and mental abuse from clients, colleagues and bosses.

The article was prompted by the recent publication of Stripped: The Bare Reality of Lap Dancing, by Jennifer Hayashi Danns and Sandrine Lévêque (Clairview Books, 2011, £8.99). This really is an excellent book, and one that certainly ought to be placed on the desks of all members of every council’s licencing committee up and down the country – especially those who are in the process of deciding whether or not to grant new licences to existing Sexual Entertainment Venues (SEVs), also known as lap dance clubs.

Through a combination of personal narratives from former lap dancers, journalists, students etc, Stripped creates a rounded picture of the UK lap dancing industry. A former lap dancer herself, Danns is extremely well placed to know what the industry is really like. Her co-author, Lévêque, was Campaign Manager on Object’s Stripping The Illusion campaign until 2010, which concluded successfully with the British Government's passing of legislation that gave councils greater control over the lap dancing industry, and called for lap dancing clubs to be licensed in the same way as sex shops or sex cinemas… not cafes! The law was successfully changed, but the problem of lap dancing clubs still exists…

Written in an accessible and page-turning style, Stripped is a compulsive read – at times a repulsive read. Nonetheless, it’s essential for anyone interested in finding out more about what really goes on in this growth industry. By posing questions and allowing lap dancers a voice, in a non-judgmental manner Stripped poses questions such as: Are lap dancers sex workers or exotic dancers? What attracts so many women to work in this industry? Are women being sexually exploited and their bodies used as objects for male gratification?

The second part of the book moves to a more analytical perspective and offers some possible solutions to the situation, and advice for people working in the industry or who are interested in campaigning in this area.

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You may also be interested in the current work of Bristol Fawcett in this area. For years, Bristol Fawcett has campaigned against the normalisation of the sex industry through the proliferation of lap dancing clubs, and has a dedicated group of volunteers who put in countless hours researching the industry in Bristol, finding out when new applications are being submitted to Bristol City Council, and trying to improve the situation both for the women who work in the clubs, and for people who have the misfortune to live or work near the clubs. There is a great deal of information about the campaign in Bristol on the link here.

The Scarlet Hotel, Cornwall

It’s hard to decide what the best thing about the Scarlet Hotel is, so here’s a short list: the beautiful views from every room, the commitment to sustainability, the delicious and local food, the genuine manner of the staff, the wealth of calm rooms to unwind in, and the fact there are no under-18s allowed. Bliss.

Tucked away at the end of a wiggly road in Mawgan Porth, the Scarlet feels delightfully remote from the real world. You know right from the start that this isn’t going to be a traditional hotel experience. With no reception desk for staff to hide behind, you’re simply greeted by a friendly person who checks you in without the need for a barrier between you and them. Teas and coffees are brought to your room to enjoy while you unpack, and soak up the ambience.

Of course, the first thing that hits you when you reach your room is how quiet everything is without any children hurtling around the corridors or shrieking in neighbouring rooms. This is wonderful. The second thing you realise is the stunning view of Mawgan Porth beach from your room, with the beds perfectly positioned so you can gaze on the roaring waves from the picture window without even needing to stand up. And then there’s the simple elegance that spells out the room’s décor – ours had a tasteful wooden tree motif on one wall, which was much more agreeable than the usual attempt at contemporary art you find in many hotels.

We had a Just Right room… and it was, with wooden flooring and simple but stylish furniture. The bathroom is open plan with the room, and the shower and toilet are behind a screen (perhaps a little exposed for some!), but it works well and the room is infused with the scent of rosemary and lavender from the locally made toiletries. We were given a little cloth bag in which to take the soap home in, so as not to waste it – meaning my bathroom at home now smells as delicious as the Scarlet!

The Scarlet has a calming Ayurvedic-inspired spa, and although we didn’t take advantage of any treatments this time, we were sorely tempted. However, the spa is adjacent to the indoor pool (since it was November we weren’t brave enough to try the outdoor one!), which is a haven of peace and boasts a view overlooking the coastline. Although the 37-room hotel seemed busy with guests during our stay (it never felt busy, I hasten to add, but it just seemed well populated), we never encountered more than two other people in the pool at any one time, so it always seemed peaceful. The pool area also has a beautifully tiled steam room, and a range of enormous beanbags and hammock-tents made for two, which are the most relaxing things ever to lie back and swing in.

As you would expect, all of the food at the Scarlet is locally sourced and prepared with the highest standard of care. We had a delicious dinner (three courses for £42.50 per person) in the restaurant on our first night, and I was delighted that the music included a few Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood numbers. For starters we had pork belly, and fillet of red mullet, both of which were perfectly presented, and just the right size to not spoil our appetite for the main course. I enjoyed the pan fried brill, and my husband had roasted cod with mussels, as it seemed only right to eat seafood so close to the Atlantic (which we gazed out at while we diend). Both were extremely tasty, and the variety of flavours across the plates complemented each other perfectly. The salsa on the side of my brill worked fantastically with the simplicity of the fish and the gentle flavours from the potatoes. We finished our meal with the apple jelly, crumble and custard, which was a charming alternative to the more traditional apple crumble. I sometimes find that a three-course meal can leave me feeling heavy and uncomfortable, but the choice of dishes and sensible portion sizes meant I left the Scarlet’s dinner table feeling comfortably full and very contented.

We rounded our evening off with a few games of pool in the adjoining library, which includes a growing collection of books sympathetic to the Cornish area, as well as some interesting scrapbooks showing the development of the Scarlet since it opened in 2009.

Breakfast, brought to our room, was equally delicious. I had the continental with pain au chocolat, red apple juice, and natural yoghurt with cinnamon and baked apples – which was divine. My husband had a cooked breakfast, which while looking like sausages, bacon and eggs, he assured me was one of the finest he had ever tasted. And that’s saying something.

With bracing walks on the beach an obvious distraction, we ventured down to Mawgan Porth several times, being a short 5-10 minute walk down the hillside from the path outside our room. We climbed over the rocks, bravely paddled barefoot in the Atlantic, and explored the beautifully shaped small caves around both sides of the bay… and watched the dogs being exercised on the beach. What was also noticeable was how clean the beach is, possibly the cleanest we have ever seen in England. Long may it last.

Our two night stay was short but sweet, and it was such a treat to have a little taste of heaven – who knew it was possible to have such a blissful seaside retreat in an typical English winter?! We will definitely be returning, and we will definitely be making sure our stay is a longer one next time. Wonderful. 

Visit the Scarlet's website for more information, or to book your own trip!

“The Life and Times of Stella Browne” - book review

Stella Browne is a largely overlooked yet pivotal figure in British feminist history, and Lesley A Hall’s meticulously researched biography of the “feminist and free spirit” reminds us just why we should remember and revere Stella.

Born in 1880, Stella had no intention of conforming to the conventional life society assumed for women, remaining not only unmarried, but taking a number of sexual partners of, gasp, both genders! She devoted her life to all number of women’s causes, notably socialism, suffrage, lesbianism and, most significantly for Stella, sexual reform.

She was a tireless writer and campaigner for abortion rights and contraception, at a time when it was considered abhorrent to even mention either topic in polite society. Taking no notice of what was expected of her, Stella wrote and spoke publically to demand women’s rights for safe abortions, revealed to a government committee that she had undergone abortions herself (which was illegal at the time), and co-founded the Abortion Law Reform Association.

Stella is presented in this biography as a frequently unfashionable woman, who was disliked by many of her contemporaries, quite possibly for her dominance, outspokenness and plain speaking. But the simple fact that she campaigned for birth control information to be freely available to women and men, unmarried and married, marks Stella as a deeply important character.

Hall’s book is a thorough and in-depth analysis of Stella’s life, which is no mean feat considering how scant the existing research is. But Hall has unearthed a library of letters and papers that have helped her piece together a well-informed and fascinating insight into this extraordinary woman’s life.

That Stella achieved so much and that her name is not better known is a travesty, but I hope Hall’s excellent book will help to secure Stella a much-deserved place in the feminist hall of fame.

The Life and Times of Stella Browne: Feminist and Free Thinker, is written by Lesley A Hall, and published by IB Tauris at £25.