missrenie: (Default)


My hands were shaking which was odd because I did not feel that nervous . I remember pressing my back against the cold wall to slow down my heart… to shock me back into a calm and steady breath. I remember holding onto Lacey's hand and not wanting to let her go. I remember Stephanie's feet leaving the ground for a moment as she sang out the glitter in her eyes, the smile on her lips.

-Tell me cunt
-I say it then you say it cunt!

Then Lacey was gone… on the stage… a world away. Her hand on her tiny waist as she turned to the side and shifted her leather clad hips suggestively, winking at the crowd. There was Stephanie at my side then a quick reassuring touch. The lights went down. I went up. I closed my eyes and breathed in….

I felt the stillness of the room
something in me shifted…
something slipped out of me
and then something slipped in.
I felt the warmth of the lights on my face
I exhaled
I opened my eyes
And I wasn't just the Moaner... the pvc clad Dominatrix
I was myself
More of myself then I had been in the past seven years.
And I was loving every moment of it.

I loved watching the slender women who at first looked at me with eyes that said "I know her fat ass is not wearing that!!!" change from shock to admiration
I loved the way rubenesque women looked up at me I could see the embarrassment give way to a heck yes… big beautiful women represent!!!
I loved pausing for the laughter
And making them wait for the next line.
I loved pacing the stage like it was a jungle and I was the sole predator
I loved the way people blushed or turned away when I looked directly at them.
I loved staring them down

The way a mousy 40ish woman fidgeted and her eyes got big and wide when I said the lines "I discovered how deeply excited I got when other women moaned… when I was responsible for other women moaning"

I said it directly to her.

And then the moans
20 of them
I could hear the women in the crowd recognizing themselves in each one… I heard a few uh-ohs when I announced the next… felt their roars, heard the oh my gods, amens, hell yeahs!!!
They threw gasoline on an already well burning flame and my inhibition, my self doubt, my suppression, my lack overwhelming monumental lack of self confidence was left smoldering in the ashes.
By time I reached the "Surprise triple orgasm" I was in a state of euphoric abandon. I felt completely naked and exposed and I didn't quite give a damn.

And when it was all over.
I lifted myself up onto my feet
stopped my panting
And blew the audience a kiss
A thank you

Turned on my heels and sauntered off the stage without waiting for the lights to dim or the applause to end.

I got home around 2:30 am
pried out my contacts
got into the shower
let the water pour over me

I cried

I did not think that I could possibly get more out of being part of the Vagina Monologues as I did last year. I was totally, completely and thoroughly wrong.

Last year was a healing for me. Through the Coochie Snorcher I was able to pour out all that anger. I punctured a puss filled wound and was washed out cleansed and patched up.

I was raised to a "kind of heaven".
But this year…

I stayed in the shower for a long time… afraid that when I stepped out that I would lose something… that something that I found that night… afraid that it would drip off of me like the water, circle the drain or evaporate into the air.

When I finally got out of the shower I wiped the the mirror clear of the fog

And looked
And saw
And knew
That this is part of me now
I have returned to myself… and I am going beyond.

Thank you Tara for calling me two years ago to get me involved
Thank you Mara and Jean for giving me pointers on some of the moans.
Thank you San Jose Vaginas of 2007 for being the wonderful people that you are and helping me feel safe enough to let myself do this

Thank you Anne for providing the opportunity
Thank you Stephanie
for seeing this potential in me before I could see it in myself
for giving me a key
to a door
to a room
to a place
to a part of me that I had forgotten

missrenie: (Default)

The Vagina Monolgues and my shameless self promotion

But first the Vagina Monologues.

now for my shameless self promotion

Last year this play changed my life... and started me on a road to change and growth as a person. It was not just being in the play... the act of performance in front of a group of strangers... it was the extra above and more than ordinary women I met and got to know during the practices and rehearsals, it was the moving piece that I got to do last year that helped me through my own issues and helped me find my own healing. Since that closing night last year I looked forward to this years...
I had no idea that this years piece would move me to redefinition again
Thankyou Stephanie!!!
Thankyou Anne!!!
For giving me a chance to do it again
this time in pvc vinyl
with a leather paddle

Even more shameless self promotion

I'm also being auctioned off Friday at the Post Performance Gala
or ill find a use for that paddle
click to buy ticket on-line
missrenie: (Default)

I can feel it ready to burst forth from my lips, hot like lava, smooth as silk, powerful, mind blowing
Last year I got the chance to be a part of something wonderful... something that has changed my life and the way I see myself and my sisters around me. I can not wait to be a part of it again this year .The Vagina Monologues. It was an incredible expirence. V-Day generates broader attention for the fight to stop violence against women and girls, including rape, battery, incest, female genital mutilation (FGM) and sexual slavery. Proceeds from our performance went to the local Rape Crisis Center for San Jose and the Women's Crisis Center of the local YMCA

please visit:
to find out more information about how you can help out. Even if its just buying a ticket to a production and taking a friend along... every cent counts!!!!
This year's highlight piece is concerning what happens to women as a result of war and it's aftermath. Its a powerful piece.

Victory, Valentine and Vagina!!!!!
Until the Violence Stops!!!!
Peace and Love

Vagina Warriors: An Emerging Paradigm, An Emerging Species
I have sat with women in crowded factories in Juarez, in crumbling shelters in the back streets of Cairo, in makeshift centers for teenage girls and women in Jerusalem, Johannesburg, Pine Ridge and Watts, in mansions in Hollywood, in burnt-out backyards in Kosova and Kabul, in a moving van after midnight with sex trafficked girls in Paris. Sometimes these meetings went on for hours; in the case of the 17-year-old Bulgarian sex slave, we had 35 minutes before her pimp came looking for her. I have heard the staggering stories of violence - war rapes, gang rapes, date rapes, licensed rapes, family rapes. I have seen first-hand the scars of brutality - black eyes, cigarette-hole burns in arms and legs, a melted face, bruises, slices and broken bones. I have witnessed women living without what is fundamental - sky, sun, a roof, food, parents, a clitoris, freedom. I have been there when skulls washed up on riverbanks and naked mutilated female bodies were discovered in ditches. I have seen the worst. The worst lives in my body. But in each and every case I was escorted, transformed, and transported by a guide, a visionary, an activist, an outrageous fighter and dreamer. I have come to know these women (and sometimes men) as Vagina Warriors.

It was Zoya who first took me to the muddy Afghan camps in Pakistan; Rada who translated the stories of women refugees as we traveled through war-torn Bosnia; Megan who led pro-vagina cheers on a freezing cold campus in Michigan; Igo who made jokes about land mines as we sped in her jeep through the post-war roads outside Pristina, Kosova; Esther who took me to the graves marked with pink crosses in Juarez, Mexico; Agnes who walked me up the path with dancing and singing Masai girls dressed in red, celebrating the opening of the first V-Day Safe House for girls fleeing female genital mutilation (FGM).

At first I thought this was just a rare group of individuals, specific women who had been violated or witnessed so much suffering they had no choice but to act. But after five years of traveling, forty countries later a pattern has emerged, an evolving species. Vagina Warriors are everywhere. In a time of escalating and explosive violence on the planet, these Warriors are fostering a new paradigm.

Although Vagina Warriors are highly original, they possess some general defining characteristics:
They are fierce, obsessed, can't be stopped, driven.
They are no longer beholden to social customs or inhibited by taboos. They are not afraid to be alone, not afraid to be ridiculed or attacked. They are often willing to face anything for the safety and freedom of others.
They love to dance.
They are directed by vision, not ruled by ideology.
They are citizens of the world. They cherish humanity over nationhood.
They have a wicked sense of humor. A Palestinian activist told jokes to an Israeli soldier who pointed a machine gun at her as she tried to pass the checkpoints. She literally disarmed him with her humor.
Vagina Warriors know that compassion is the deepest form of memory.
They know that punishment does not make abusive people behave better. They know that it is more important to provide a space where the best can emerge rather than "teaching people a lesson." I met an extraordinary activist in San Francisco, a former prostitute who had been abused as a child. Working with the correctional system, she devised a therapeutic workshop where convicted pimps and johns could confront their loneliness, insecurity and sorrow.
Vagina Warriors are done being victims. They know no one is coming to rescue them. They would not want to be rescued.
They have experienced their rage, depression, desire for revenge and they have transformed them through grieving and service. They have confronted the depth of their darkness. They live in their bodies.
They are community makers. They bring everyone in.
Vagina Warriors have a keen ability to live with ambiguity. They can hold two existing, opposite thoughts at the same time. I first recognized this quality during the Bosnian war. I was interviewing a Muslim woman activist in a refugee camp whose husband had been decapitated by a Serb. I asked her if she hated Serbs. She looked at me as if I were crazy. "No, no, I do not hate Serbs," she said, "If I were to hate Serbs, then the Serbs would have won."
Vagina Warriors know that the process of healing from violence is long and happens in stages. They give what they need the most, and by giving this they heal and activate the wounded part inside.
Many Vagina Warriors work primarily on a grassroots level. Because what is done to women is often done in isolation and remains unreported, Vagina Warriors work to make the invisible seen. Mary in Chicago fights for the rights of Women of Color so that they are not disregarded or abused; Nighat risked stoning and public shaming in Pakistan by producing "The Vagina Monologues" in Islamabad so that the stories and passions of women would not go unheard; Esther insists that the hundreds of disappeared girls in Juarez are honored and not forgotten.

For native people, a warrior is one whose basic responsibility is to protect and preserve life. The struggle to end violence on this planet is a battle. Emotional, intellectual, spiritual, physical. It requires every bit of our strength, our courage, our fierceness. It means speaking out when everyone says to be quiet. It means going the distance to hold perpetrators accountable for their actions. It means honoring the truth even if it means losing family, country, and friends. It means developing the spiritual muscle to enter and survive the grief that violence brings and, in that dangerous space of stunned unknowing, inviting the deeper wisdom.

Like Vaginas, Warriors are central to human existence, but they still remain largely unvalued and unseen. This year V-Day celebrates Vagina Warriors around the world, and by doing so we acknowledge these women and men and their work. In every community there are humble activists working every day, beat by beat to undo suffering. They sit by hospital beds, pass new laws, chant taboo words, write boring proposals, beg for money, demonstrate and hold vigils in the streets. They are our mothers, our daughters, our sisters, our aunts, our grandmothers, and our best friends. Every woman has a warrior inside waiting to be born. In order to guarantee a world without violence, in a time of danger and escalating madness, we urge them to come out.


~Eve Ensler, Founder/Artistic Director, V-Day; playwright, "The Vagina Monologues"
missrenie: (Default)

I'm a size-ist
and a racist
I stereotype skinny women
skinny white women
I never realized it
really realized it
I am the only black person in the production. And I felt weird about it. And I had to figure out why. And when I thought about it, it was not the being the only black person that upset me... it was my size. I was so used to being ridiculed by the skinny white girls I used to go to school with. Poked at, name called... they gave me hell and I felt like shit around them. All I wanted to do was fit in, or at least fade away but I couldn't no matter how hard I tried to do either. My hair, my lips, my eyes, my hips... me. I compared myself... a giant checklist... I hated myself... for not being
blue eyed
for not having hair what went though a plastic comb instead of breaking the pink and white teeth to pieces.
I never thought of myself as having a serious problem with white people... I mean I pushed it to the back of my mind... thought of it as normal sometimes... I mean I have white friends!!!! My best friends Liza and Kris are white... and Liza is skinny!!!
But now
looking at it
being in a room with white women
skinny and not skinny white women
all those feelings came back.
And I could feel the wall going up.
Until they smiled genuinely smiled at me, hugged me and told me I was cute, helped me with my makeup, made mistakes, belched, and treated me like a human being... a beautiful human being that I realized really realized the problem I had
and how wrong I was
and how much of a healing experience this Vagina Monologue thing has been.
We stand united in our womanhood, in experience good and bad... They have faced screwed up things in their lives as well. Just because you are white and skinny and pretty does not mean that you boyfriend stays around, that you get the car you've always wanted, that people back out of your way, that the world stands and waits for you, or loves and adores you... just because you are white and skinny and pretty does not mean that you are spared from abuse, embarrassment, heartache and pain or even think that you are skinny or pretty.
I am black and fat and beautiful and beautifully me... this I have always known despite what I went through during my youth.
But now I know another truth.
That we ARE really connected... that these women are my sisters... we may have differences abounding
but we all have a vagina


missrenie: (Default)

I was late for rehearsals today... but I did get there in time to answer the question. ...
I chose
Sailor frickin Moon
because my vagina would have the power to save the entire world
be reincarnated several times
wear a really short skirt
speak Nihongo (Japanese)
have legs for days
eat lots of food without getting fat
have a groovy guy that gave her flowers all the time
be a princess
a queen
a neo queen
and have a really wild sex life that involves lesbian sex and tentacles
mmm love those tentacles

missrenie: (Default)

Well not just any circus.. The circus with the animals are cruel and depressing
I'm talking about the circus
My vagina wants to join Cirque du Soleil

(She has good taste doesn't she)

Terick took me last night to Croteco as a late Valentine's Day thing... I must have had 4 mini-gasms watching those men dance like elves across the stage
so graceful
and yet
so masculine
like watching lions roaming around Africa
I've have often mused that if I were a lioness I would say “screw you “ to the one lion and start a lesbian herd only seeking out a male lion for procreation needs.

But after seeing the human male equivalent I caught a dangerous if not unsettling glimpse of the longing to willingly be someone's bitch.
And I gasped in shock at my own thoughts
and shivered
I clung to Terick's arm (hoping he would protect me from becoming someone's bitch) He leaned over and kissed my forehead..and I gasped again

mini-orgasm number 5

I was tuckered out by time we got home.  We cuddled and talked each other to sleep.  Which did not take long for me I slept so well I was so content.. So happy.

... no nyquil involved

and when I woke up at 8:07 (have to be at work for 8:30) he told me I looked so pretty while I slept.  (It was the first day in nearly a week that I had managed not to drool profusely on my left forearm.)  He told me my eyebrows were so perfect and my mouth so small... I told him that was because when I am asleep im not spewing profanity and its not really smaller it is just closed.  He kissed my tummy, ironed my work clothes and sent me off into the concrete jungle with a pleasant glow.

Yes my vagina wants to join the circus and so does Terick



missrenie: (Default)

This question got some weird responses... one being really drawn out about how you could never really know how your vagina smelled because you can't lean into it to smell it... if you used you hand and sniffed your hand the smell would change because of the chemical difference between your hand and your vagina.
I happily reported that mine smelled like copy paper warm off the machine
This got many happy smiles from sister office supply-philes



come again?

Feb. 7th, 2006 11:28 pm
missrenie: (Default)

So I read my lines for Terick
his one comment
“your southern accent isn't black enough”

So I read a few lines to Kris who shrugged and said
“You sound like Scarlet O'hara to me”
“But Scarlet is white” I say
“Well you've got the southern part right” she says with a smile

I'm going to block buster to rent the Color Purple had no idea that playing a southern black woman would be so much damn work!!!!



missrenie: (Default)

Today at rehearsals before the normal moaning session we were asked
“What would your Vagina wish for”
Everyone' s first answer was - an end to violence against women
So being a sheep and trying not to be a self involved bitch I gave my fist wish to the cause as well.
My second wish was for my period to come back...
If anyone has seen my period tell her that I miss her and to come home soon
seven years is too long to go without one



missrenie: (Default)

One of the directors has a bunch of cats. Know don't get me wrong I love kitties. But sadly I am very allergic... I had to cut out of rehearsal early today... I hope they don't think I am a flake.




missrenie: (Default)

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