“They Beat the Girl Out of My Boy… Or So They Tried”

Recently, a group of friends and I produced and directed a performance of Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues. Originally performed as a one-women off-off-Broadway show in the 90’s, this play has evolved into a worldwide, billion-participant movement to end violence against women and girls. It was a humbling and extremely rewarding experience.

There are half a dozen plays that can be used as fundraising vehicles for local violence prevention and education programs, but, as a rule, The Vagina Monologues is to be performed only by women. The idea is that only those who possess a vagina can understand the unique sexual and physical struggle that women face in today’s society. In 2004, a monologue was introduced to include those who were not born with the physical female anatomy, but who have come to realize their true gender identity. I wanted to share this with you:

They Beat The Girl Out Of My Boy…Or So They Tried

by Eve Ensler

Introduction

As part of Eve’s work to include the voices of all women who face violence, she

interviewed a diverse group of transwomen in preparation for creating this piece. This

piece was performed for the first time by an all transgendered cast in LA in 2004.

They Beat The Girl Out Of My Boy…Or So They Tried

At five years old

I was putting my baby sister’s

diapers on.

I saw her vagina.

I wanted one.

I wanted one.

I thought it would grow

I thought I would open

I ached to belong

I ached to smell

like my mother

her sweet aroma lived in my hair

on my hands, in my skin

I ached to be pretty

Pretty

I wondered why I was missing my

Bathing suit top at the beach

Why I wasn’t dressed like the other girls

I ached to be completed

I ached to belong

To twirl the baton

They assigned me a sex

The day I was born.

It’s as random as being adopted

or a being assigned a hotel room on the 30th floor.

It has nothing to do with who you are

Or your fear of heights.

But in spite of the apparatus

I was forced to carry around

I always knew I was a girl.

They beat me for it.

They beat me for crying.

They pummeled me for wanting

To touch

To pet

To hug

To help

To hold

Their hands

For trying to fly in church

like Sister Batrell

For doing cartwheels.

Crocheting socks

For carrying purses to kindergarten

They kicked the shit out of me every day

On my way to school.

In the park

They smashed my

Magic marker painted nails

They punched my lipsticked mouth

They beat the girl

out of my boy.

Or they tried.

So I went underground.

I stopped playing the flute

“Be a man, stand up for yourself

Go punch him back.”

I grew a full beard.

It was good I was big.

I joined the Marines

“Suck it up and drive on.”

I became duller.

Jaded.

Sometimes cruel.

Butch it

Butch it

Butch it up.

Always clenched, inaccurate,

Incomplete.

I ran away from home

From school

From boot camp.

Ran to Miami

Greenwich village

Aleutian islands

New Orleans.

I found gay people

Wilderness lesbians

Got my first hormone shot

Got permission to be myself

To transition

To travel

To immigrate

350 hours of hot needles

I would count the male particles as they died

16 man hairs gone.

The feminine is in your face

I lift my eyebrows more

I’m curious

I ask questions.

And my voice

Practice practice

It’s all about resonance

Sing song sing song

Men are monotone and flat

Southern accents are really excellent

Jewish accents really help.

“Hello my friend”

And my vagina is so much friendlier

I cherish it

It brings me joy

The orgasms come in waves

Before they were jerky

I’m your girl next door

My Lt. Colonel father ending

Up paying for it.

My vagina

My mother was worried

what people would think

of her

That she made this happen

Until I came to church

And everyone said you have a beautiful

Daughter.

I got to be soft

I am allowed to listen

I am allowed to touch

I am able to

To receive.

To be in the present tense

People are so much nicer to me now

I can wake up in the morning

Put my hair in a pony tail

A wrong was righted.

I am right with God.

It’s like when you’re trying to sleep

And there is a loud car alarm–

When I got my vagina, it was like someone

Finally turned it off.

I live now in the female zone

but you know how people feel about

immigrants.

They don’t like it when you come from someplace else.

They don’t like it when you mix.

They killed my boyfriend

They beat him insanely as he slept

With a baseball bat

They beat this girl

Out of his head.

They didn’t want him

Dating a foreigner

Even though she was pretty

And she listened and was kind.

They didn’t want him falling in love

With ambiguity.

They were scared he’d get lost.

They were that terrified of love.

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