Girl Olympics

[monologue] 

MY VAGINA would wear knee length stilettos, a butterfly clip in its hair and a tshirt that says “I’m not going anywhere”. 

My vagina would say… it wouldn’t say anything. It would sing. 

My vagina likes all music. Except country. It shrinks back when it hears country cuz it knows the hicks are comin’. 

My vagina used to have a name. I named it after my first crush. Luke. 

My vagina is a flamboyant character, like myself. I like to say my vagina’s on order. It got stuck in shipping. Until then it’s simply inside out. 

See, I never thought of my penis as part of me. When I was younger, I thought one day it would fall off and I would become a mermaid. I would live in the ocean forever and it would be fantastic. That obviously never happened at least on record. 

My vagina wants to feel beautiful. 

It’s a cycle. The day that I fix my face – I don’t call it shaving, that sounds so masculine – that day I’m a fierce queen, I am feelin’ it and ain’t nothin’ gon’ stop me. The second, maybe third, day my face is starting to grow back but I can still get away with it. Then after that… it ain’t happenin’. 

The trick is: I can’t actually pull it off the first day. But I can’t tell myself that. Cuz then I’ll just be ugly every day. I need those days when I can look in the mirror and, even if no one else agrees, think “DAMN that’s a fierce girl”. 

I came to a realization recently. It was windy. My hair was wet and I thought “fuck it, I’m gonna let it dry out”. So I let my hair down. 

I have a hard time feeling more beautiful than I felt in that moment. I felt so free. So… pretty. I suddenly realized that ugly is a state of mind. And to be beautiful is to be strong. To say “I’m going to like myself, even if I look like shit. I’m going to be fabulous, and they are going to eat it”. 

I have days when I can do that. But I have a lot more ugly days. 

Today’s an ugly day. Today I look at myself and think “honey you’re never gonna make it work. No one’s gonna ever think you’re anything more than a guy in a dress. No one’s gonna ask about your vagina cuz no one even knows it there. And if you told them… well, they’d think you were crazy”. 

I’m competing in the Girl Olympics. Girls understand. They know how hard it is, how much time, work, and product happens behind the scenes, how narrow the definition of femininity is; and for me to be a MALE competing in that world? Feminism says that’s bullshit, and I agree, but it’s harder for me to feel pretty than it is for other girls. 

My vagina would apologize for this year. It would FORMALLY apologize because this year has been a shit show. Dealing with drama, dealing with normal college student stress, dealing with guys, dealing with girls, dealing with having to come out every day even though I’ve been out for a year, dealing with the time I tried to kill myself, and yet… this semester has been some of the most fun I’ve ever had. Because my vagina has kept reminding me that it gets better with time. Some things don’t get better. Some things get worse. But there’s a whole world out there waiting for me to explore. And it’s fucking scary but… it’s worth it. 

If my vagina could travel, it would go on tour. It would give lectures and hold book signings and appear in movies and ROCK the runway. Then at the end of the day – because it could accomplish all of this in a day, as my vagina is a bit of a superhero – it would come back, cuddle up with a hot cup of tea and think “I wonder what we’ll do tomorrow”…

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Written by unknown, found in the 2016 script