A&E

Hamilton’s women speak at FEMME

By Elizabeth Lvov ’17

We gathered at the edge of the Barn, pink boas draped at odd angles over our arms and our all-black ensembles. The cast of Femme had yet to come together in a truly cohesive run-through. Yet a casual observer would never know this from the efficiency with which we lined up, or from the warmth with which we laughed together and complimented each others’ looks. The feathers from our boas shed like crazy over the variety of all-black fashion, ranging from Natalie Adams’s ’17 elegant stilettos to Katie Glusac’s  ’17 ethereal floor length maxi dress. We wore jeans and dresses and skirts and tights and boots and sweaters; we were fabulous and unstoppable. There was a feeling of instant camaraderie amongst us. There was an unspoken sense of significance to our gathering, a sense that what we were about to do was worthy and important and brave. The Barn was overflowing with people and we exchanged looks with a mix of terror and delight.

I had only the vaguest idea of what to expect. I knew that The Vagina Monologues had been hugely entertaining but problematic for the transgender-excluding way the writer equated woman-hood with that specific portion of anatomy. The Vagina Monologues were also far from ideal because they present little to no intersectionality— the monologues include somber third-person excerpts on female genital mutilation in Africa but no monologue dedicated to the exclusive perspective of a woman of color and her unique struggle in our own society. Even with these limitations, however, I found myself wondering how we could match that carefully-crafted play which was written as a cohesive whole and accordingly interwoven and complex. I worried that a bunch of disparate monologues written by college students would not have the same effect.

The minute Liz DaBramo ’15 started her monologue, my worries faded. She had the audience uproariously laughing, and after she sat back down, the level of performance was absolutely sustained as girl after girl went up to the microphone. Warm, engaging, funny and at times heartbreaking, my peers dazzled me with their genuine portrayals of the female experience. Frank and lighthearted, serious and intense, I felt the very cohesiveness that I thought I might miss in the absence of professional writing—not in the structure of the performance, but rather in the way we effortlessly wove a mosaic out of our stories, a glorious depiction of what it means to be a girl—and a woman. Joany Lamur ’17 wrote two monologues, performing one herself while Milinda Ajawara ’16  read the other, about her experiences and thoughts as a woman of color, while two anonymous writers contributed monologues on their experiences as queer women.  There was definitely a more concrete and tangible element of diversity to Femme than to The Vagina Monologues, despite the latter’s flashy presentation. Alexa Merriam ’17 contributed an interesting piece performed by four women in a beautiful and unprecedented way which re-created the interweaving  voices that was the best part of The Vagina Monologues.

I was taken by how beautifully written the monologues were, and how wonderfully performed. Kiana Sosa ’15 performed “Untitled Confession” with such a precision and power that I felt that the anonymous voice of the author truly was given justice. “Ten dreams in which I am small” moved me almost to tears with its vivid imagery, while “No Men, No Drama,” “Mounds of Glory” and “The Female Orgasm” were unapologetically honest and hilarious. There was a recurring theme of humor and seriousness interwoven; the girls had the audience chuckling one moment, and in a reverent silence  the next. The rich complexity of storytelling, as demonstrated perfectly  by Emma Reynolds’ ’17 “Non-Committal Vagina Gardener,” was incredibly impressive in its quality.

When I performed my own monologue, I was taken by the rapt attention of the audience. That initial feeling of interconnectedness that I experienced with my fellow performers at the beginning infused the entire room as the monologues progressed; there was something so beautiful and personal about Hamilton-specific girls sharing their stories, in their own voices and through the voices of others. Ever so often there was a reference to Hamilton or some small fragment of it, like Martin’s Way, which brought into sharp focus the intimate nature of the monologues. It was empowering and exhilarating and a glorious celebration of womanhood and Hamilton’s female community. This event was an amazing success and I hope this new-and-improved vision of Vagina Monologues will continue on as a tradition in upcoming years, bringing girls together in a triumphant exposition of our lives.

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