Since 1998, performances of Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues have been the central feature of a celebration called V-Day, a day devoted to raising money for various worthy causes (including breast cancer research and women’s shelters). V-Day takes place on Valentine’s Day, although the term is obviously meant to signify Vagina Day.
Reading about this, I couldn’t help but wonder what North America would be like if we actually took women’s reproductive organs (vaginas for the euphemistically challenged among you) seriously. Rather than piggy-backing on St. Valentine’s (bloody and, if you ask my opinion – and I know you didn’t , but this is my column, so I’m going to give it to you anyway – totally unromantic) history, what if Vagina Day was its own holiday, with all that that entails?
Legislatures would have to vote to give Vagina Day legal status, for a start. One can only imagine a Strom Thurmond or a Trent Lott debating with Hilary Clinton the issue of whether or not to declare Vagina Day a national holiday. (Well, one with my sense of the absurd, anyway.) How about Jean Chretien defending Vagina Day in the House of Commons? (To be honest, I don’t even care if he wins; I just want to hear how he pronounces the word “vagina.”) Of course, in the real world, such debates will never happen; however, since we’re imagining a world in which vaginas are taken seriously, let us imagine that such a holiday is given official sanction.
We’ll need to establish places to worship vaginas. I know, I know – that’s soooo ancient Egypt. Yes, I will admit that things don’t get much more retro than that. Still, considering the violence and brutality that is already extant in the world, I would say that we are already swiftly moving back to the Dark Ages. Dark Ages…ancient Egypt – what’s a few millennia when we’re proposing another justification for a party?
The vagina temples ought to be manned by female prostitutes. Of course, this – no, wait. Sorry. That…that wasn’t quite right. Let me try again. The vagina temples will have to be manned by female prostitutes. Hmm…better, but still not quite there… The vagina temples will have to be…ahh. Okay. The vagina temples will have to be staffed by female prostitutes. Perfect.
I apologize for the deficiencies of the English language.
Of course, staffing the temples with female prostitutes will be difficult in jurisdictions where the practice is illegal. Legislation will have to be passed making an exception for Vagina Day celebrations. This is not without precedent. If we can extend bar hours on New Year’s Eve to allow people to drink, surely we can legalize prostitution on Vagina Day to allow people to…well, you get the idea.
Vagina Day will be a time for gift-giving. Some gifts will be practical (such as mirrors); some will be obvious (for instance, vulva-shaped chocolates); some will be sentimental (ie: multispeed vibrators with swivel heads). Something for everybody. And, of course, there will have to be cards with predigested sentiments so that people who receive Vagina Day gifts will know that the givers have put a lot of their own emotions into the process. A typical Vagina Day card might read:
Your voice is like a bird
A robin, or a mynah
But the prettiest sound comes from the mound
That is your vagina
Flowers and chocolates
Is there a gift finer?
But for every woman living, the gift that keeps giving
Is her vagina
So celebrate this special day
Declare: “This is mine! A
Flower that’s hot! An infinite pleasure spot!
A vagina!”
Vagina Day cards will, of course, prominently feature a vagina/flower motif. I know, I know – the flower metaphor for the vagina is already something of a cliché. Still, what are holidays for if not the pleasure that comes from pushing cliches into utter banality through mind-numbing repetition?
To be a proper holiday, we’ll need a movie that is annually repeated on television. I would suggest It’s a Cunterful Life. For those of you unfamiliar with it, this classic film is a bout a woman (played with appropriate seasonal wooden cheer by Zoe) who is contemplating killing herself when her guardian angel (Tom Byron) appears and shows her what life in her high rise would have been like if she had never lived. She finds that all of her friends would have had really repetitive, boring sex. (Quentin Tarantino has suggested that this was actually a meta-comment on the nature of porn films, but what has he done lately?) Sure, it’s emotionally manipulative, but It’s a Cunterful Life can not only be enjoyed by those who indulge in cheap emotions, but it gives the rest of us something to feel smugly superior to.
Of course, men, being men, might question Vagina Day’s emphasis on female sexuality. “When do we get to celebrate Penis Day?” I hear them ask. Oh, boys, don’t be silly. Every day is Penis Day.