The Unexpectedly Inaccessible Vagina Monologues

In true outside of the box things that guys do to spend some time with a girl they like fashion I got talked into going to see a performance of “The Vagina Monologues” at Augsburg College in Minneapolis this past Sunday afternoon. “The Vagina Monologues” is a play created by Eve Ensler that is about female empowerment and individuality and is performed on Valentine’s Day in an effort to bring awareness to and end violence against women. Prior to that I had heard about it, seen small excerpts of it, and had a decent grasp of the gist of it, but it was something that I would have never considered checking out on my own, either in person or on video format, without some considerable coaxing—more likely than not in the from a pretty girl. Otherwise, my life would have seemingly carried on just fine without it. More than anything I figured that the subject matter by itself, let alone the the multiple recitations of the word vagina, would have me squirming uncomfortably in my seat. But, with the right kind of arm twisting, and me being game to try new things, I was soon all set to get my v-word on.

When going to any new venue for the first time questions of accessible parking, building access, and comfortable accessible seating inside immediately spring up. Since the campus music hall was quite literally a hop, skip, and a jump from my apartment building I scouted it out the day before while I was running errands. I quickly assessed that finding accessible parking was going to be an issue. One-way streets limited sidewalk parking options, nearby parking lots required campus parking permits, and most of the spots right by the building labeled for accessibility were “transfer only.” We could have just as easily walked/rolled there from my place but decided to drive and ended up parking “illegally” in a handicapped parking spot that required an Augsburg College permit, hoping they’d be lax about such violations on the weekend. (They were.)

As we approached the building I immediately discovered that there was no automatic accessible door opener, which is always annoying. Then worse, when we got inside the auditorium there was no wheelchair accessible seating. In those situations the three seating options are: 1) Sit all the way up at the front, which sucks because by the time you’re clear of the leg room of the people sitting in the front row you’re practically on the stage. My joke was that if we sat all the way up there that we would practically be able to smell the Vagina Monologues. 2) Sit in the aisles somewhere, but that was an extra challenge for us since there were two wheelchairs in our group of three. So not only would we have maybe blocked too much of the aisle, but one of us would have had to sit slightly separate from the group. 3) Sit at the very back, which in this case actually meant sitting behind the very back row. We decided on a hybrid seating formation by sitting in the back row but with both wheelchairs parked diagonally on each side of the aisle. What I found interesting was what a deterrent our partial aisle blockage created. Many people intending on going down our aisle to get to their seats would see us sitting there, stop dead, start going up the opposite aisle, and then all the way across rows of seats instead. It was an impromptu social experiment of sorts.

Now other than pointing out that some moron brought along her young child to such an adult show, and at one point let her run up and down the aisle making a slight racket (after a while she left the room, the door was closed behind her, and she didn’t return), that is the direction that I thought this post was going to go in. I thought that I was going to be taking the concept of building and auditorium inaccessibility, sprinkle in some past relatable experiences, and analyze the whole thing like I’ve done numerous times over in the past on this blog. Next thing I know, often to my own great surprise, I’ve banged out over a thousand words about the kinds of gloves I’ve worn in the past, or how I make mac and cheese, and wonder if I’m the only one who has found the material interesting. At the least, it’s a perpetual exercise of catharsis.

But all that changed shortly after the show began, when I found myself squirming awkwardly in my seat for a whole different and unexpected reason: out of nowhere I started feeling quite a bit sexually inadequate. The show itself is split almost equally between serious monologues of vagina related issues like female empowerment, loss of virginity, menstruation, birth, rape, etc. and more upbeat topics like alternative labels for vaginas, grooming, reclaiming the “c-word,” lesbian encounters, discussions about both hot and awkward sexual encounters, and demonstrations of various orgasm types. It was the more supercharged sexual stuff that spontaneously stoked some sexual self-consciousness in me.

To wit, in the show’s first segment all the ladies, the monologue-ers if you will, went over a variety of things that their vaginas would say if they could talk, and the sexual oratory included things like “yes,” “more,” “harder,” “faster,” “don’t stop,” “this way not that way,” “that’s the spot,” “yummy,” “yes, please,” “f—k me!,” “oh s—t!,” etc. Then later on in what was easily the most fun and entertaining segment of the performance one of the monologue-ers does a solid five minute, enthusiastic, and borderline graphic oral demonstration of the various types of female orgasms, and the applicable moans they induce, along with physical demonstrations of the multiple sexual positions that apply, such as the “rapid fire,” “the diva” (i.e. missionary position where one leg kicks straight up in the air at the magic point), “the barker,” the “triple-multiple Big O”, etc. Everyone in the audience went nuts, but much more so it was the ladies who were clapping, whistling, cheering, whooping, and hollering, with one catching the implied “O” spirit more than anyone and she yelled out, “Yeah, you go girl!” Presumably, plenty of the ladies in the audience were living momentarily, vicariously through the monologue-er and/or instantaneously fantasizing/reflecting on their own sexual experiences. Because really, what woman doesn’t want a marathon session with sexy sculpted gentlemen giving them “the diva”?

But I couldn’t help but sit there and think, “Well I can’t do that anymore, or that, or that…” and it was suddenly very sobering. Because when you are a spinal cord injury quadriplegic who is paralyzed from the chest down, having physical, full body, multi-positional, all over the room sexual activity is just not in the cards, despite the extreme want for it. Moreover, by definition of this disability there is a certain amount of sexual dysfunction involved as well. It’s disappointing, it’s frustrating, it’s difficult to deal with at times, etc., but it’s just another unfortunate aspect of this particular lifestyle. It is what it is.

Other than some very limited horsing around that I did with my then girlfriend in the hospital after my SCI, which is really hard to do when a hospital bed is involved and nurses and family can come in at any moment (i.e. frustrating!), my first true exposure to post-SCI sex and sexuality issues wouldn’t come until I was almost discharged from rehab from Craig Hospital. All residents that were within their last two weeks of rehab were put into this extra daily class that was sort of a “here’s all the other SCI related things that didn’t come up in PT or OT that you need to know before you go home” unit. One very uncomfortable day was all about post-SCI sex. First, we talked generals about dealing with the mechanics of post-SCI sex: the realistic levels of sexual dysfunction and impotence, the difficulties/frustrations of achieving/maintaining erections for men, the inability for women’s bodies to produce natural sexual lubricant, about the lack of sexual sensitivity/pleasure, that orgasms can result in autonomic dysreflexia, that male ejaculate can possibly be differently colored due to the body’s lack of regular expulsion, etc. Then we watched an educational film that can best be described as cripple porn, that showed a handful of couples in various disability combinations (e.g. SCI guy and able-bodied wife, a couple that both have SCI) doing fairly graphic couple sex stuff. (FYI not a recommended watch. Nope.) Then third, the guys and the girls went to separate rooms to talk shop in more of an open, candid, and comfortable setting.

In my room it was me—an eighteen year old with a girlfriend—a late twenties paraplegic who was engaged to a very cute and supportive blond, a forty-something para who was married with three young kids, and the token quad who was “in the know” about SCI sex and alternative SCI sexual techniques. After he asked if we had any questions thus far about the lecture or video, which we didn’t because it was awkward, one by one he started pulling things out of this small black magic sex satchel. He started off by saying that if you were lucky enough to achieve/maintain an erection then more power to you. But for those who struggled, the alternative options included Viagra (or Cialis, et al), which doesn’t always work for SCI folks; a vacuum pump a la the Swedish pump that Austin Powers tried to deny “wasn’t his bag, baby”; an electro stimulant, which seemed more like a cattle prod for your junk than anything; using vibrators or dildos in lieu of the impotent/flaccid penis (if that’s the case); and most invasive of all, a surgical procedure that places small balloons in the spongy material of the penis shaft so that when you want to achieve an erection you use an external pump to fill up the balloons. Once he took us through the paces he finally said something like, “Honestly, talking about half this stuff freaks me out a little but I have lay out all the options for you” and we all let out a collective sigh because we were all thinking the same thing. But the point is that many quads have to jump through some wild hoops just to be able to have sex, and that can make people feel unattractive, unsatisfying, and asexual.

Now that being said, it is not by any means to suggest that quads can’t have healthy, active, successful, mutually pleasurable sex lives, even involving sessions that include some mind blowing stuff. But by the same token it does, unfortunately, have it’s limits. Again, because the whole body isn’t involved and the mechanics are a little different. For example, unrelated things going on with the body (e.g. bladder issues) can spoil the fun at inopportune times. Without that direct nerve/sensory/passion/emotional connection between the brain and the penis it means that even hot and heavy make out/foreplay sessions may not result in an erection the way it does with able-bodied guys, which in turn can lead to embarrassing and sympathetic “Hey it happens to other guys too” territory or unintentionally leaves the impression that you’re not turned on by the girl. Clearly, locations where you can have sex are limited, so by default that takes away some of the excitement and spontaneity of the act. All in all it requires a partner who is patient, understanding, and open minded.

The other relatable perspective quickly worth mentioning is the feeling, depending on how much you choose to dwell on it, that you won’t and don’t stack up in the overall sexy, exciting, satisfying, performance category with other able-bodied guys. An unfair comparison from jump street to be sure, but one that naturally exists nonetheless. But the bottom line notion is that everyone wants to fully satisfy their mate, or that should be one of the primary goals in my opinion, and it’s real hard to not feel like the aforementioned limits prevent that for quads. Moreover, even if things are really, really, satisfactorily great in that department with your girlfriend/wife the very realistic reality that you will doubtfully be the best she’s ever had can be difficult to deal with as well.

So cutting back the to the show, all those interrelating thoughts and issues hit me out of nowhere mid-performance and it was unexpectedly quite a bummer. And being there with someone that I was attracted to somehow seemed to heighten those uncomfortable moments and inadequate feelings from my perspective. All of that being said, as we left the show I felt thoroughly entertained and I was real glad that I checked it out, but at the same time I couldn’t help but wonder if the subject matter of the “The Vagina Monologues” was just as inaccessible as the venue that hosted it.