first published by the Brisbane Courier-Mail 7 April 2007
By now, most everyone will have heard about the debacle surrounding an Atlantic Beach, Florida community production of The Vagina Monologues. But for those of you who missed it (and the explosive fit of incredulous laughter that surely followed), I’ll recap. A woman and her niece were driving along the street and came across a sign advertising the production. The niece promptly asked her aunt what a vagina was. The aunt was so offended that she called to complain. The production opened – under a new title – The Hoohaa Monologues.
Let’s all take a moment to recover.
The media, naturally, has been all over the story, with both liberal and conservative parties weighing in on the significance of the restriction. Wikipedia boasts my favourite headline: “The Hoohaa Brouhaha”. At the time, many parents applauded the decision to change the name, citing vulgarity and crudeness as support for the change. The production did change the name back two days after the original change, not as a political statement, but because the producer of the event noted that rights to the play were only granted if the production was not subject to censorship.
Though seemingly inane, this example does bring up some questions in regards to female sexuality which I am (quite cleverly) going to relate back to romance novels, or, more specifically, societal opinions of romance novels.
One of the major reasons readers and writers give for the scorn the genre faces is that almost the entire romance industry is female. And one of the stereotypes most heard (and reviled) by romance readers is that romance novels promote unhealthy attitudes towards sex.
Now comes the clever part: if we’re taught that a clinically correct term for a part of the body, like arm, leg, nose, when related to female sexuality, is something to be ashamed of, and that novels that promote monogamous, healthy relationships in which a woman is sexually stimulated and satisfied by her partner in a consensual act are reason for guilt and embarrassment, then I have to start questioning how far women have really come in their bid for equality and the success of the sexual revolution. Because having to refer to the female reproductive organs using a childish euphemism to avoid offense and pursue relationships in which a woman should not expect to be sexually satisfied certainly doesn’t scream emancipation to me.
