Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Quarterly Report #3 (nine months down...)
QUARTERLY REPORT #3
‘Women Echoed Each other…”: Breaking Silence with the Vagina Monologues
Jen McKenzie
April 28, 2009
(Thailand, Cambodia & India Chapter)
Another three months have passed, truly?! They’ve flown with speed and vibrancy. The global nature of this fellowship melds perfectly with the international breadth of V-day. A few days ago I was in a rickety fishing boat while my visiting Mom looked for dolphins as the sun dawned over the Indian coast. While we patiently strained our eyes for the elusive animals we chatted, and had an Israeli man, British ‘Dr.Who’ caster my Mom and I discussing the Vagina Monologues which we’d all seen in our respective countries. There have been so many crazy coincidences like this one, I am starting to firmly believe that the world is much smaller than I was led to conceptualize.
THAILAND:
The last time I wrote you I was a few short weeks into Thailand research. My time spent there was absolutely the kind of participation-observation I had dreamt of while writing the Watson proposal over endless cups of coffee. The production was an unbelievable success by any definition of the word. Technically a success because it drew three nights of packed audiences at one of the most prestigious and innovative theatres in the country, drawing majority Thai audiences but a wide range of ages and sex if not economic demographics. Thousands of USD were raised (not a small feat in the world of baht and economically rocky roads) for a local women’s shelter doing incredible work.
Even more powerful than these tangible accomplishments however, are the rich threads of connection forged among the incredibly international cast. It was a huge group of women, predominantly Thai but with over a dozen nationalities represented in the cast and production team. Bangkok is a unique entity of Thailand, and within the metropolis exist numerous cliques, divisions and unique communities that remain quite rigidly separate. This endeavor was strategically used to unite farong (foreign) women and Thai women in a community and cause. The play was innovatively done bilingually with subtitles, a unique solution. International women spoke to me about needing the support and community they found in the context of their expat lives. All Thai women asserted that having a blend of nationalities was as strong as or stronger than an all-Thai production, that the diverse nature of the cast could better reflect the inclusive content of the Monologues themselves - leading the cast to reflect upon the universalities that bound their very distinct lives.
CAMBODIA
I had to do a visa run to Cambodia in order to stay through the performances, and coincidentally hunted down the Phnom Penh production just in time! I rolled in from a day of cycling around Angkor Wat just in time to shower, help the organizers decorate decadent ‘fannie’ donation boxes, and jump in a tuk-tuk for their kickoff event- a screening of ‘Until the Violence Stops’ (the documentary about V-day). While there for a weekend, I attended their rehearsal in a yoga studio, talked to nearly everyone involved and saw the restaurant in which they would hold the extravaganza.
It was a unique experience particularly because it challenged my own analysis of what it means to have the play be a foreign initiative/imposition. What does it mean to have the play internationally if its presence is reflected in an expat cast and not even done in the local language? Something I came to realize is that while it is an admittedly murky realm, if I were an expat working in an NGO in Cambodia I would desperately want to be involved and find a community and venue for speaking out. It can be extremely hard to be a foreign woman in a country that is not your own, and which has very different gender roles and levels of equality. I also came to terms with the fact that while a Kmer initiated effort in Khmer may have been ideal, the needs of these expat women are also important, and can serve as a starting point which hopes to encourage local leadership and sustainability of the movement.
INDIA
India dazzles me with its energy, vibrancy, spice and flavors. I even love it when my sweat is pouring down. Yet like most love, this is a complex relationship. Just as the beauty disarms me the blatant oppression, poverty and even more subtle violence dismays me, sickens me. Though judging levels of oppression can feel wrong in itself, in many ways this is the most restrictive environment in which I’ve researched the Monologues. Even in Mumbai, the most cosmopolitan city in the country, I confront my gender in very different ways. While loving the ‘Short Skirt’ monologue, I am constantly trying to balance standing up for myself with respecting local culture and being safe. I’ve had to consider more concessions here than I ever have before, donning kurtas and long pants in 105 degree weather.
However in spite of, or perhaps because of, these tense gender dynamics the Vagina Monologues is everywhere! The demand is high- all the shows have been absolutely packed or sold out. I am simultaneously researching three productions, which provide insight and contrast between what it means to have a professional production, university production and NGO-based grassroots production. I was here for the 200th performance in which they included male Bollywood celebrities performing monologues from Eve’s new play ‘Memory, Monologue, rant and a prayer’ to draw a sold out house. I made fresh pesto pasta and mojitos to lure last year’s university women to my bungalow, and we had an amazing relaxed focus group, then celebratory night of dancing. It was truly beautiful. Their personal experiences and commitment to working to end violence against women and children is truly inspiring. The production launched a radical and vibrant feminist movement on their campus, and first year students hope to do it again this year, making it a sustained presence.
The NGO-initiated grassroots V-day was produced in Marathi, the official state language, which touches upon a fascinating element of the VM presence here- how multilingual the city and country is. To do the Monologues in Hindi means something entirely different to local audiences than to do it in English, and to do it in Marathi breaks whole new sets of taboos and includes entirely different vernacular references. Language is highly politicized here, and the productions I have seen in Hindi, English and Marathi are incredibly distinct from one another and from other versions I have seen, with music and dance included to ‘indianize’ the subject matter as they say. In spite of these differences, the play resonates profoundly with audience members and casts involved in these three distinct efforts.
The three productions appeal to different demographics, and the professional one has toured around the country and even to Sri Lanka. However, with so much poverty present, I can’t help but consider the vast groups of people who it is not accessible to, in an economic as well as subject matter sense. As it hasn’t been brought to many of these populations, the response cannot be known, yet one wonders how it may be received in a context where tampons aren’t used and gynecological exams not remotely possible, for example. In India I am confronted with different kinds of feminism, different needs o \f women and difficult questions about it. I’m glad to be challenged, and hope to come to, if not some answers, even more developed questions.
In my last report, Jennifer asked about what it is like talking to people about these sensitive topics. In fact, that is the easy part. The conversations flow with a natural ease and authenticity that constantly moves me. The nature of the play encourages conversation, calls for breaking silence, and in this vein, people are remarkably open with me about their experiences and reasons for being involved, many of which are deeply personal. The logistics are a challenge, but once I get a hold of people everyone so far has been really pleased to share with me. In many ways I feel it’s been cathartic for them to tell their own stories, through talking about their experiences with the Monologues.
In a sense these stories have helped me to process my own experiences with my vagina, with my relationship to the Vagina Monologues, and particularly with regards to my future. While I feel a clear vocation to work with women’s direct survivor services, I have learned I need a creative outlet (like the Monologues) to keep me energized and from getting too depressed by the subject matter to be useful. I am applying for a position next year that would fulfill this need, and allow me to work in prevention doing gender sensitivity training with students and services, as I work with women at a DV shelter.
The main lesson of this year for me is how to listen, ironic, considering the VMs are so much about speaking out and breaking silence. If I have a more developed understanding about listening, and definitely one about geography, my relationship with time is the most changed. I remember I was concerned with a two year commitment with the Peace Corps, but the more I see the more I realize how long it takes to begin to know a place, and how much you must know a place to be present there, much less work to change it.
I feel the pressure of time slipping away, and try to relax regarding my near constant fears of not doing enough, of missing some crucial element. There are so many countries I should go to! So many voices that should be heard. Can I have another year? I’ve decided to just relax about it- to continue to South Africa as planned and really allow myself to be present the last two months there. The truth is that just as the Vagina Monologues can’t possibly represent the experience of all women, I cannot possibly cover it all. What is important is to follow each web to its next connection, and to validate the stories I am hearing rather than lamenting the ones I am missing.
‘Women Echoed Each other…”: Breaking Silence with the Vagina Monologues
Jen McKenzie
April 28, 2009
(Thailand, Cambodia & India Chapter)
Another three months have passed, truly?! They’ve flown with speed and vibrancy. The global nature of this fellowship melds perfectly with the international breadth of V-day. A few days ago I was in a rickety fishing boat while my visiting Mom looked for dolphins as the sun dawned over the Indian coast. While we patiently strained our eyes for the elusive animals we chatted, and had an Israeli man, British ‘Dr.Who’ caster my Mom and I discussing the Vagina Monologues which we’d all seen in our respective countries. There have been so many crazy coincidences like this one, I am starting to firmly believe that the world is much smaller than I was led to conceptualize.
THAILAND:
The last time I wrote you I was a few short weeks into Thailand research. My time spent there was absolutely the kind of participation-observation I had dreamt of while writing the Watson proposal over endless cups of coffee. The production was an unbelievable success by any definition of the word. Technically a success because it drew three nights of packed audiences at one of the most prestigious and innovative theatres in the country, drawing majority Thai audiences but a wide range of ages and sex if not economic demographics. Thousands of USD were raised (not a small feat in the world of baht and economically rocky roads) for a local women’s shelter doing incredible work.
Even more powerful than these tangible accomplishments however, are the rich threads of connection forged among the incredibly international cast. It was a huge group of women, predominantly Thai but with over a dozen nationalities represented in the cast and production team. Bangkok is a unique entity of Thailand, and within the metropolis exist numerous cliques, divisions and unique communities that remain quite rigidly separate. This endeavor was strategically used to unite farong (foreign) women and Thai women in a community and cause. The play was innovatively done bilingually with subtitles, a unique solution. International women spoke to me about needing the support and community they found in the context of their expat lives. All Thai women asserted that having a blend of nationalities was as strong as or stronger than an all-Thai production, that the diverse nature of the cast could better reflect the inclusive content of the Monologues themselves - leading the cast to reflect upon the universalities that bound their very distinct lives.
CAMBODIA
I had to do a visa run to Cambodia in order to stay through the performances, and coincidentally hunted down the Phnom Penh production just in time! I rolled in from a day of cycling around Angkor Wat just in time to shower, help the organizers decorate decadent ‘fannie’ donation boxes, and jump in a tuk-tuk for their kickoff event- a screening of ‘Until the Violence Stops’ (the documentary about V-day). While there for a weekend, I attended their rehearsal in a yoga studio, talked to nearly everyone involved and saw the restaurant in which they would hold the extravaganza.
It was a unique experience particularly because it challenged my own analysis of what it means to have the play be a foreign initiative/imposition. What does it mean to have the play internationally if its presence is reflected in an expat cast and not even done in the local language? Something I came to realize is that while it is an admittedly murky realm, if I were an expat working in an NGO in Cambodia I would desperately want to be involved and find a community and venue for speaking out. It can be extremely hard to be a foreign woman in a country that is not your own, and which has very different gender roles and levels of equality. I also came to terms with the fact that while a Kmer initiated effort in Khmer may have been ideal, the needs of these expat women are also important, and can serve as a starting point which hopes to encourage local leadership and sustainability of the movement.
INDIA
India dazzles me with its energy, vibrancy, spice and flavors. I even love it when my sweat is pouring down. Yet like most love, this is a complex relationship. Just as the beauty disarms me the blatant oppression, poverty and even more subtle violence dismays me, sickens me. Though judging levels of oppression can feel wrong in itself, in many ways this is the most restrictive environment in which I’ve researched the Monologues. Even in Mumbai, the most cosmopolitan city in the country, I confront my gender in very different ways. While loving the ‘Short Skirt’ monologue, I am constantly trying to balance standing up for myself with respecting local culture and being safe. I’ve had to consider more concessions here than I ever have before, donning kurtas and long pants in 105 degree weather.
However in spite of, or perhaps because of, these tense gender dynamics the Vagina Monologues is everywhere! The demand is high- all the shows have been absolutely packed or sold out. I am simultaneously researching three productions, which provide insight and contrast between what it means to have a professional production, university production and NGO-based grassroots production. I was here for the 200th performance in which they included male Bollywood celebrities performing monologues from Eve’s new play ‘Memory, Monologue, rant and a prayer’ to draw a sold out house. I made fresh pesto pasta and mojitos to lure last year’s university women to my bungalow, and we had an amazing relaxed focus group, then celebratory night of dancing. It was truly beautiful. Their personal experiences and commitment to working to end violence against women and children is truly inspiring. The production launched a radical and vibrant feminist movement on their campus, and first year students hope to do it again this year, making it a sustained presence.
The NGO-initiated grassroots V-day was produced in Marathi, the official state language, which touches upon a fascinating element of the VM presence here- how multilingual the city and country is. To do the Monologues in Hindi means something entirely different to local audiences than to do it in English, and to do it in Marathi breaks whole new sets of taboos and includes entirely different vernacular references. Language is highly politicized here, and the productions I have seen in Hindi, English and Marathi are incredibly distinct from one another and from other versions I have seen, with music and dance included to ‘indianize’ the subject matter as they say. In spite of these differences, the play resonates profoundly with audience members and casts involved in these three distinct efforts.
The three productions appeal to different demographics, and the professional one has toured around the country and even to Sri Lanka. However, with so much poverty present, I can’t help but consider the vast groups of people who it is not accessible to, in an economic as well as subject matter sense. As it hasn’t been brought to many of these populations, the response cannot be known, yet one wonders how it may be received in a context where tampons aren’t used and gynecological exams not remotely possible, for example. In India I am confronted with different kinds of feminism, different needs o \f women and difficult questions about it. I’m glad to be challenged, and hope to come to, if not some answers, even more developed questions.
In my last report, Jennifer asked about what it is like talking to people about these sensitive topics. In fact, that is the easy part. The conversations flow with a natural ease and authenticity that constantly moves me. The nature of the play encourages conversation, calls for breaking silence, and in this vein, people are remarkably open with me about their experiences and reasons for being involved, many of which are deeply personal. The logistics are a challenge, but once I get a hold of people everyone so far has been really pleased to share with me. In many ways I feel it’s been cathartic for them to tell their own stories, through talking about their experiences with the Monologues.
In a sense these stories have helped me to process my own experiences with my vagina, with my relationship to the Vagina Monologues, and particularly with regards to my future. While I feel a clear vocation to work with women’s direct survivor services, I have learned I need a creative outlet (like the Monologues) to keep me energized and from getting too depressed by the subject matter to be useful. I am applying for a position next year that would fulfill this need, and allow me to work in prevention doing gender sensitivity training with students and services, as I work with women at a DV shelter.
The main lesson of this year for me is how to listen, ironic, considering the VMs are so much about speaking out and breaking silence. If I have a more developed understanding about listening, and definitely one about geography, my relationship with time is the most changed. I remember I was concerned with a two year commitment with the Peace Corps, but the more I see the more I realize how long it takes to begin to know a place, and how much you must know a place to be present there, much less work to change it.
I feel the pressure of time slipping away, and try to relax regarding my near constant fears of not doing enough, of missing some crucial element. There are so many countries I should go to! So many voices that should be heard. Can I have another year? I’ve decided to just relax about it- to continue to South Africa as planned and really allow myself to be present the last two months there. The truth is that just as the Vagina Monologues can’t possibly represent the experience of all women, I cannot possibly cover it all. What is important is to follow each web to its next connection, and to validate the stories I am hearing rather than lamenting the ones I am missing.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Me n V-Day production in Mumbai Mirror
Hey all, crispy Jen reporting from glorious Goa! Here's an article published in Mumbai Mirror, in which the fabulously intelligent Shanta interviewed ME when I turned up (with Mom in tow) to interview HER, ha. More on that soon, gotta walk back along the beach, Mom already holed up reading and listening to the ocean no doubt. Much love!
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Behind on photos!
I am so so so SOOOOOOO happy my mom is here. Tho will mean less blog updating and writing of article (gulp). BUT also means lots more photo taking. We are happy as little parental and offspring clams. In a rickshaw.
Monday, April 6, 2009
There is no photo for a day like today
I saw a man die today. And I decided I want to be a mother. We were taking the train to the orphanage for a party. And we took the wrong train. And just as the one we needed to take was pulling into the station, a man slipped under. What I think I saw is this: a thin man with a dark plaid shirt slowly yet instantaneously sucked under the train. It seemed as though he turned into it, and reminded me of when you're learning to swim and you hunch over the edge before your body plunges. Anneke heard a woman scream. All I heard was the impact, and then a dog going crazy. 'Jen, let's go!' Emma pulled us away, as people rushed to look. I thought they had a greedy curiosity in their eyes, but they think people just wanted to find out if he was still alive and needed help. I don't think anyone could survive that. I'm glad I didn't see what came after.
All these questions, and we will never know. They thought he was blind, had a stick. So did he not hear it and try to jump and cross the tracks? Did he slip? Did he kill himself on purpose? And how much agency does someone really have in suicide? I wished to cry, to vomit. Instead I was intently aware of my own corporeality, of the tension in my face. In the taxi we were silent, all words seemed superfluous. The road blocks appeared smeared with blood, and I felt bile rising in my throat imagining this man, who was as alive as myself, a few feet from me, and then spread similarly along the tracks. What the hell was it? Red mud splashed during monsoons passed? Or was it the red wad that wallas chew and spit it clotted streams? I thought of our long train-rides to Michigan and the mysterious stops in muffled snowy nights when others jumped in front; I thought of Gaudi hit by a tram in Barcelona and left to die because they thought he was a pauper; of Kelsi and Emili's screams when Kasha was hit in the gorge, of what is left after a train passes over an animal. We seemed to pass hundreds of gory red broken apart watermelons and again I'd here the thunk of his body.
We went to the orphanage. We went to the most alive place possible. To glee, to loving needy touching tiny people. I didn't want to do anything at that moment. And then, suddenly, I did. I wanted to comfort them, I wanted to give them touch and laughter. Though they must have comforted me more than I could possibly have them. It is the most natural thing to be in the company of children. I danced with them in my arms to ludicrous Backstreet Boys music. I felt strongly that I want to be a parent some day- I really don't think the kid has to be biologically mine, I had this sense that I could love any one of these children with all my heart. I am just exhausted now. That's all.
All these questions, and we will never know. They thought he was blind, had a stick. So did he not hear it and try to jump and cross the tracks? Did he slip? Did he kill himself on purpose? And how much agency does someone really have in suicide? I wished to cry, to vomit. Instead I was intently aware of my own corporeality, of the tension in my face. In the taxi we were silent, all words seemed superfluous. The road blocks appeared smeared with blood, and I felt bile rising in my throat imagining this man, who was as alive as myself, a few feet from me, and then spread similarly along the tracks. What the hell was it? Red mud splashed during monsoons passed? Or was it the red wad that wallas chew and spit it clotted streams? I thought of our long train-rides to Michigan and the mysterious stops in muffled snowy nights when others jumped in front; I thought of Gaudi hit by a tram in Barcelona and left to die because they thought he was a pauper; of Kelsi and Emili's screams when Kasha was hit in the gorge, of what is left after a train passes over an animal. We seemed to pass hundreds of gory red broken apart watermelons and again I'd here the thunk of his body.
We went to the orphanage. We went to the most alive place possible. To glee, to loving needy touching tiny people. I didn't want to do anything at that moment. And then, suddenly, I did. I wanted to comfort them, I wanted to give them touch and laughter. Though they must have comforted me more than I could possibly have them. It is the most natural thing to be in the company of children. I danced with them in my arms to ludicrous Backstreet Boys music. I felt strongly that I want to be a parent some day- I really don't think the kid has to be biologically mine, I had this sense that I could love any one of these children with all my heart. I am just exhausted now. That's all.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Holi/Vagina Analogy
(The director)
EXCERPT FROM INTERVIEW WITH V-DAY DIRECTOR:
Keep in mind, this woman is coming at the play from a theatre perspective not 'cause' perspective, and last thing I knew was highly uncomfortable with the subject matter. When I went for the rehearsal, she was a changed woman with a religious-like converted fanatic glow in her eyes. On a chai break mid-rehearsal, she told me her Holi metaphor for the use of the Vagina Monologues:
"You have quite a few words and sayings that are not.. said. Have you been to a holi festival in Bombay? They use the colors. And the day before that there are a lot of wooden logs that are collected... You are not supposed to buy those logs. You are supposed to steal them, collect them, and burn the logs. And there is a tradition in Mahrashtra, you have to use all the bad words. All the bad words- it’s a tradition. All bad things, all bad words, and anyone, the most gentleman even!
And next day those colors, the colors are a very... open thing... And those two days are for the bad words and everything. And I found it very near to this play. Getting rid of all the inhibitions. Whatever there is. How do you say in English? … Cleansing the system! Getting shed of all inhibitions and becoming free, regarding each and every part of your body. So I found it very close to the festival!
I found it.. The first time I felt when I read it [I thought of this]. In our tradition we have this concession of letting us, whatever, get out our inhibitions! Whatever we feel, we can just throw it out on those three days. It’s a big concession to our society. It’s very important [...] It has changed me a as a person.
(My findings: Group hugs = universal)
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Photo of the Day April 2nd
(Photo of the day above)
Photos from the first rehearsal I have attended of the V-Day Mumbai Marahti Team!
Another fantastically warm and fierce group of women, instantly welcomed me with warmth and chai despite the truly boiling temperatures today.
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