Saturday I spent most of the spectacular blue skied warmth inside my house staring at little black cards with various portions of my lines on them. When I finally emerged – huge bag in hand weighed down with black clothes and accent accessories – I was a whirlwind of last-minute errands to prepare for both my debut and encore performances in the Oakland Community production of eve ensler’s vagina monologues.

It was my second time performing, but for some reason, doing them outside the context of my university increased the anxiety. We assembled at noon and with four hours before curtain call the day hung before me like wet clothes on the line…drying takes forever.

Sitting on the curb in the church parking lot, basking in the sun and enduring heart palpitations I wondered about who would come…how we would be received…how I would do…

Our first show was small. More than that, it was broad daylight. All the reassurances of, “it’ll be dark, you won’t see the audience” proved false as I looked directly at the cluster of colleagues who were kind enough to venture out to my performance.

Daylight be darned.

First show behind us we prepared for the evening show. This evening audience was invested. A crowd of women all dressed in black adorned with red boas marched in together and marked off their vagina territory. One look at them and we knew it would be a good show. No disappointment there…it was.

Our final show happened the Sunday. It turned out to be our biggest crowd. Still daylight, it was less distracting this time.

So we closed. And although I’m ok if I don’t hear any of the monologues again until next year I will miss the women I have gotten accustomed to laughing with since January. To quote our organizer, candance:

“our c@#*s rock!”

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