The week beginning Feb. 16 was the most mentally and emotionally exhausting week of my entire life. It was Connecticut College's first V-week – a week dedicated to celebrating women: our struggles, our magic, and our battles fought – our triumphs.
Early in the week, the entire cast of "The Vagina Monologues" shared tears and found insurmountable motivation as we watched Eve Ensler's newest documentary on the state of women in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). Why Congo? According to playwright Ensler, "Congo is the most dangerous place on the planet to be a woman or a girl." Since 1996, sexual violence in the eastern Congo has been used as a method of torture and humiliation. Countless Congolese women have been raped, ostracized, abandoned and left for dead in the pursuit of natural resources.
All 65 of us watched – bleary-eyed – as dozens of women testified against the men who had committed the most atrocious acts imaginable. In this moment, the cast of "The Vagina Monologues" found our purpose, found our pursuit. Despite the racial, demographic and socioeconomic differences that often tear us apart, we found empathy. We found incredible solidarity with these women and their struggles; we found ourselves in their suffering and we were called to action.
Armed with our new purpose, we performed Ensler's iconic "The Vagina Monologues" Feb. 19 and 20, donating the proceeds to the humanitarian efforts in the Democratic Republic of Congo, as well as to the Women's Center of Southeastern Connecticut and the Connecticut College's Women's Center.
During this powerful performance, my cast of 65 shared the stories (the monologues) of women who have had good experiences and bad experiences; who have experienced rape and degradation; who have hope and who defeat the odds. These women are strong and powerful and brave. Not everyone can talk about hair, vibrators, floods, domestic violence, respectful men, violent men, lesbians, moaning or vaginas the same way as "The Vagina Monologues" does. And undoubtedly, no one can say, "In Westchester, they call it a pookie," like I can.
And certainly, very few women can discuss and portray sexual slavery in the Congo the way the brave and courageous women of our cast did. As I reflect on this experience with these women, I cannot forget one line of the spotlight monologue that so deeply resonated: "I am 17. He took me when I was 15. He raped me every day three times a day. He gave me diseases and made me pregnant. If you turn this boat back, I will throw myself into the lake. I will drown myself. I'll be okay dead as long as I never have to see him again. I will take his baby with me. And the captain will put one hand on your shoulder and you will see a light in his eyes that you will identify as pity and he will not turn back."
The moment the audience realizes that our heroine, Marta, will never see her soldier, her captor, the man who raped her three times a day for two years ever again, she starts to love her baby and becomes a mother. She learns of his death and believes "God did something good," and then, "at that moment milk will pour into your breasts and you will love your baby."
One of the most important lessons I learned from this experience is the final lesson of the monologues, Rule No. 8: No one can take anything from you if you do not give it to them. And that rule, Rule No. 8, is what has exhausted my mind and my heart so much this week. I refuse to falter, and I refuse to wait for my happiness. On the contrary, I have given myself entirely to this cause and have found myself and have found more than 60 young women whom I can identify with, cry with, laugh with and be a woman with. My heart is so tired from these emotions, my eyes are so tired from crying, but my body is ready to fight this battle until the end.
Megan Reback is a sophomore English and government major at Connecticut College and chair of fundraising for the college's production of "The Vagina Monologues."
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