The vigina monologue....................

Okay. I saw it and I have to say I was a bit disappointed in it. Yes, it had a great message but I wonder why it had to be so out right vulgar in some places. I mean, I did not really need to hear all the various ways of saying vigina and how how to shout cunt was just out of the question for me. It is not my idea of the proper way to handle such things. But there was some great parts in in too. The most important one for me was this little poem.....
MY SHORT SKIRT
My short skirtis not an invitationa provocationan indicationthat I want it or give i t
or that I hook.
My short skirtis not begging for it it does not want you to rip it off me or pull it down.
My short skirt is not a legal reasonfor raping me although it has been before
it will not hold up in the new court.
My short skirt, believe it or not
has nothing to do with you.
My short skirtis about discoveringthe power of my lower calvesabout cool autumn air travelingup my inner thighs
about allowing everything I seeor pass or feel to live inside.
My short skirt is not proof that I am stupidor undecidedor a malleable little girl.
My short skirt is my defiance
I will not let you make me afraid
My short skirt is not showing off this is who I am before you made me cover it
or tone it down.Get used to it.
My short skirt is happinessI can feel myself on the ground
I am here. I am hot.
My short skirt is a liberationflag in the women’s armyI declare these streets, any streetsmy vagina’s country.
My short skirtis turquoise waterwith swimming colored fisha summer festival
in the starry dark a bird callinga train arriving in a foreign townmy short skirt is a wild spin
a full breath a tango dipmy short skirt is initiation appreciation excitation.
But mainly my short skirt and everything under itis Mine.Mine.Mine.

The idea that a girl is inviting anyone to rape her cause of the clothes she wears is stupid. I used to wear very short skirts and short shorts because I felt good in them. I liked the feel of the wind whipping around my legs as I walked. My body belongs to me and no matter how I dress, no man has a right to touch it unless I tell him he can. I felt it was an important part of the monologue. The other one is about the burqa which is worn by muslin women. I do not have the words for it but It is very moving. It touched me in so many ways.

It describes how being hidden under all that clothe makes them feel invisible and it makes my heart sad for them.