A group of women from the University of Wisconsin-Madison recently performed “The Vagina Monlogues.” Written by Eve Ensler, it works to raise awareness of and prevent violence against women. In honor of the powerful and empowering performance, Vagina would like to speak to you.

Since many of you were unable to attend, Vagina would like to say a few words and address some hidden issues. She has quite a lot to say, but has been zipped up, tied up and her thoughts have been underexposed for way too long.

Meet pussy.

I have many names and none of them are derogatory. I like Cunt just as much as I do Vagina. I feel women have the power to take control of these supposedly negative names and proudly state that they have cunts. When someone refers to me as a “pink curtain” I smile and say why yes, I am pink and soft, like flowy fabric. This doesn’t bother me in the least. Although many girls are afraid to call me anything except ‘down there.’ I am not quite sure why this is better than anything else. I’m sure if a man has a ‘down there’ he’s not as lucky to have a soft, pink flowy curtain like me.

In preparation for my big speech I asked a few other vaginas what they would like to say to the world. I was told all sorts of things from “God bless Charmin Ultra!” to “This rattlesnake canyon is closed, enter at your own risk.” The most intelligent response was a demanding, assertive voice saying “Respect me!” I agree, I want respect as a part of a person, a woman. I am a miracle, or at least what I can do is a miracle. I am, after all the doorway of life. Although incredibly painful, I deliver life to everyone and everything. Please do not trespass this miracle without a conscious invitation. Remember I am sacred.

While still not polite, men can scratch, readjust and cup their penis without so much as a thought. What if I want to be held when I’m lonely, even if that’s standing in line at the bank? Can she cup me in her hand? I suppose that would be impolite. Why does she get shy to look at me? It’s ok, really I don’t mind if you stare.

Jeans sometimes pinch me and god forbid she puts me in that really uncomfortable black thong. I want Toni Braxton to make a song entitled “The Male Thong Song.” Maybe it will catch on and men will be socially pressured to put their penises in a two-by-three piece of fabric and rid themselves of unsightly underwear lines. That thong thong thong thong thong.

Speaking of uncomfortable, I want someone to tell me who invented the cardboard applicator. Screw the environment. I think most other vaginas would agree with me. I won’t have that scratchy tree-trunk coming anywhere near this little piece of heaven. For those few days every month that Ovaries try to crawl out of me I want to scream at them to leave me alone. I guess I could just roll in a garden of daisies while smoking crack to relieve those things that they call menstrual cramps. I have actually heard of other vaginas being able to “smoke things.” Hmmm … that’s a trick I wouldn’t have any idea how to do.

I still haven’t decided how much I like that thing called Penis. We’ll be having a very intelligent conversation and talking about a really great subject. Then all of a sudden, he goes brain dead and can’t talk anymore, well for at least 15 minutes. I guess I just have that affect on Penis. My partner in crime would have to be Tongue. I get so happy to see him. We spend all sorts of time together cuddling and whispering. He can hum just about any tune you’d like. Hmmmm … thong thong thong thong thong.

I smile when I’m in the shower, at night before falling asleep and sometimes for no reason at all. I have empathy towards other vaginas that never smile. I am pleased to hear that the good doctors are working on a vagina-friendly version of Viagra. I understand that someday I won’t be so happy and will need a pharmaceutical stroke. We need to be touched and nurtured. It would be nice to be called beautiful and maybe be draped in diamonds, make that vibrating diamonds. Cher had Sonny and I have my smiles.

I am a beautiful and peaceful vagina; complex, with thoughts and feelings. I am not to be degraded or underestimated. All I ask is to be listened to more and looked at for the wonderful miracle I am and, damn it, keep that scratchy black thong away from me.

Lindsey and her vagina are third year graphic majors. She wants all women to ask themselves “If your vagina could say something, what would it say?” Lindsey can be reached at lwasley@badgerherald.com