\və-ˈjī-nə\

My self-defined role in most gay, cis-man places is to disrupt the misogyny through . . . wait for it . . . not being misogynistic (gasp!). This usually comes in the form of talking about my support for womynism, my admiration for Virginia Woolf and bell hooks and Toni Morrison, and my love for vaginas. But not being misogynistic, as easy as it seems, takes effort when you inhabit spaces where men (gay and straight) beat their chests, talk about dick, refuse to utter the word “vagina” or “feminist,” support the patriarchy (in all the ways), and then have views of gender that make me want to fall off the cliff of civil society (I’m coming, Wilderson!).

It takes conscious effort for me to check my privilege, to note my oppressive behavior, and then change how I approach the world in order for me to not be a complete dumbass.

In my experience, and in (cis-man) friend’s experience that I’ve heard, misogyny is tied into the coming out process. You drop the truth bomb that you expect to shatter your world, “I’m gay,” but instead it goes to obliterate the feminine within your life while simultaneously projecting it back onto yourself through the internalization of stereotypes to ground one’s identity. I don’t like women. What’s a vagina? Ugh, there are too many women here. Why do women keep complaining, being gay is SO hard. Vagina is a dark cave where people go to die. I’m gay and I don’t like women.

To me this sounds like not an affirmation of gay identity but a complete success in embracing misogyny.

So to help combat this tendency in myself that society approves of, puts into me, and supports, I surround myself by (cis- and trans*-) womyn. I surround myself with friends who have lived experiences, voices, and feelings. Womyn have always been an important part to my life and I want to support the efforts of all womyn to fight systems of oppression directed against them.

Last night I reaffirmed that to love cis-womyn you have to love vagina. Last night I went to the Vagina Monologues.

Vaginas are magical. They are exquisite. They are beautiful. They are dangerous. They are fierce. They are angry. They are loving. They are a part unexplored by some, unknown by others, ignored by most. And for all of the phallic imagery in society, for all the talk of penis and dick and cock, I WANT TO TALK ABOUT VAGINAS. pussy. cunt.

(However problematic it is for me to use the last two words, which it is–#cisman, I support all womyn who chose to reclaim these words for their visceral, aesthetic, and wondrous power. And when you have an audience affirming a monologist by following directions of yelling “cunt” at the top of their lungs it is hard not to join in.)

The Vagina Monologues is the perfect venue–a place (perhaps the only place on campus these days. . . ) that actively supports vaginas. I come into the lobby to find friends, soon-to-be-friends, strangers. We wander from table to table picking up handouts from SAPAC, brochures from Safe House Center, condoms from Sexperteam, saran wrap talks from Spectrum Center, and buttons from Students for Choice. It was a pro-womyn space that should be everywhere.

Although the event wasn’t perfect–as nothing is–it was, in my opinion, a success. It left me thinking of what I could do next, “how do I proceed from here?”

I will talk about vaginas more often and not shame them when conversations about them come up. I will support all talk about vaginas and menstruation. I will talk about the oppression of womyn and specifically the oppression of trans* womyn whenever I get the chance. I will not allow for my community to disrespect womyn through acts of violence, be it verbal, physical, spatial, etc.

But I will check myself. I will not talk for womyn, I will let them share their story. I will listen to their lived experiences without assuming or judging. I will do my best to check my offensive language. I will embrace the feminine in all its aspects and not shame people for doing the same.

Listen to herstory. It has always been here.