I'm still licking my lips from a beautiful vegetable curry I made today, along with an afternoon of inspirational theatre…

Theatre is a lot like cooking: all the elements need to infuse together to make a delicious meal. I was worried my broccoli and cauliflower had seen better days. I have a tendency to make my curries a little too spicy, and I didn't seem to have enough coconut milk to cover my colorful potpourri of veggies. I had just experienced the best biryani I had ever had this past week at a new vegetarian Indian joint in my neighborhood which actually had cashews in it. I figured I'd try to do the same and add cashews to my concoction. Sometimes being a copy cat works out, and sometimes it doesn't. I find the theatre to be the same. Either it is so boringly over the top, with everything included but the kitchen sink; or it is something that has been done way too many times before in too many formulaic ways.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that this was not the case with my curry/biryani or the theatre I experienced today. The play I saw was a compilation of monologues put together by Eve Ensler and Mollie Doyle called A Memory, A Monologue, A Rant and A Prayer: Writings To Stop Violence Against Women and Girls. The play was produced by Lillian Ribeiro (a true vagina warrior princess) and directed by Rose Ginsberg in a deliciously funky artist building that houses Art House Productions in eclectic downtown Jersey City, New Jersey.

As a V-Day veteran, I was once again encountered with a warm atmosphere of art for and about women when I entered the theatre space. This art included touching photographs with women's faces and booths with V-Day memorabilia and literature about domestic violence (with lovely volunteers from _gaia and Women Rising). Of course, I was greeted by the vagina warrior princess producer-host, Lilly Lips, who had on a bright orange bob wig and 1940s-looking navy blue suit, a combination that unexpectedly made her electric blue eyes shine exquisitely with love.

The actors were dressed in red and black. When the play began in a medley of powerful words about violence, I was pleasantly surprised to see male actors in the cast, which was something I missed in the original Vagina Monologues.

Each monologue was about a different occurrence of violence, some of which included a woman being tortured in Darfur, an urban woman being beat up by her boyfriend, and a college girl getting gang raped at a party. The audience was fully engaged and silent. All we could hear were these terribly sad stories, with the accompaniment of the screeching wind outside the building which was better than any sound effects any director could have planned. It was like the wind was involved in this theatrical event, or perhaps it was the screams of all the suffering souls who had lost their lives due to violence—haunting us to never forget them. This reminded me of the poems written by Marjorie Agosin in her book, Secrets in the Sand: The Young Women of Juarez, where she describes still hearing the cries of the women who were so brutally raped and murdered in the deserts of Mexico, where their unknown bones are still buried today.

 So, the stars were all lined up. The wind was involved, the actors and director gave justice to all the great playwrights that contributed to this work, and my cashews tasted great with my not-too-spicy vegetable curry. It was an afternoon of delicious, life-giving nutrition for the body, mind, and soul. Aristotle would be proud, or should I say Sappho?

I dedicate this story to all living beings who have suffered at the hand of violence. May we continue to hear your voices until there is peace on Earth.     

Marisol Tirelli Rivera

"Theatre is a tool for social change. It makes you happy and is therapy for the soul. A lot of people don't realize that theatre can tap into a place where people need to do something for themselves. I provide that outlet."

-Lilly Lips, theatre producer, director, and activist for _gaia

Let me introduce you to Lillian Ribeiro (a.k.a. Lilly Lips), true vagina warrior princess, activist, and my bohemian artist hero. I met Lillian while auditioning for her production of Eve Ensler's Vagina Monologues for V-Day 2006 in Union City, New Jersey. It had been over a year since I had auditioned for anything. The last audition I had gone to was for Dracula on Broadway, which had gone disastrous as I nervously piped Frank Wildhorn's No One Knows Who I Am out of tune live, in front of Frank Wildhorn himself.

The first thing Lillian said to me as I walked into the room was "How is your vagina feeling today?" If that didn't break the ice, I don't know what would have. Next, I had to audibly produce the best orgasm I possible could. I felt like Meg Ryan in that famous scene from When Harry Met Sally.

Lastly, Lillian asked me why I wanted to be involved with the Vagina Monologues.  My reason was more real than the fake orgasm I had just produced. I was just coming out of a very dark period in my life, where I had been subject to years of abusive relationships with men. Somehow, theatre has always behaved like my deus ex machina. My theatre god has appeared numerous times and lifted me out of my fiery pit of low self-esteem and dysfunctional chaos. I wanted to help and educate women so they wouldn't have to go through the same thing. Within a few days, the casting director called me and told me I got the part! I was to recite two monologues about the clitoris. But, what was I to do? I still couldn't say vagina without cracking up.

Lillian is a very giving director. Our rehearsals consisted of belly dancing and self-empowerment workshops. Most of the actors themselves were victims of abuse. We could all attest that this production was a very healing experience.

This past Sunday, I met with Lillian and asked her why she does what she does. "Theatre gives people a voice to express themselves, using characters as an outlet. You're walking in someone else's shoes to understand what their life is like. We've lost a bit of that—really understanding humanity. Actors fulfill [things] within themselves." 

Lillian has directed the Vagina Monologues for the past five years for V-Day. At the end of our production, she asked members of the cast and audience to raise their hands if they or someone they knew had been the victim of abuse. She boldly said she would continue to participate in V-Day until the day came when no one raised their hand.

This year, Lillian Ribeiro and _gaia are producing A Memory, a Monologue, a Rant, and a Prayer: Writings to Stop Violence Against Women and Girls (edited by Eve Ensler and Mollie Doyle), presented by Art House Productions on Saturday, April 4 for V-Day 2009 in Jersey City, New Jersey. She will also be hosting Lunafest: Short Films By, For, About Women on April 19 at LITM in Jersey City as part of the V-Day festivities. If you're in the area, stop by. Who knows, you may even experience the healing power of a true vagina warrior princess, just like I did.

Marisol Tirelli Rivera

"She was a star in college and she is a star today," I thought. "And, what am I doing with my life?" Within seconds my black tortoiseshell cat, Cinderella, jumped on my stomach and started her usual kneading and purring. Then all of a sudden it hit me: I could sell some prints of my paintings and photographs online! Why hadn’t I thought of that before? Where had this idea come from? Then, I looked up into the most soulful green eyes you have seen. Cinderella was staring intently, deep into my being.

"Could it be?" I asked myself. "This cat was speaking to me telepathically!" I jumped up with fresh enthusiasm and ran back to my computer and logged onto a website that allows artists to sell, advertise, and create prints of their artwork on demand. I was amazed that this idea had suddenly popped into my head out of the pits of my pity party, from the eyes of my cat, and it warmed my heart having the belief that she loved me that much, even in that ugly private moment. Did she really make the connection that I am happiest when I am doing my art?

Once, I was underground in a Manhattan subway terminal and saw a jazz musician holding a sign that said "Art is Life."  Art has always been my life, but what could that mean to the rest of the world? The slogan stuck with me all day. If art is life, then life is art. We need it to breathe. If I am not doing art, I am not living. I think Cinderella understands that.   

A day after my online art epiphany, I saw an elephant painting with his trunk on Animal Planet. He appeared to be truly enjoying himself. They also showed a cat that played the piano while his owner played guitar.  My old childhood cat, Odyssey, was an avid Miles Davis fan, especially the Kind of Blue album.  

There are many great books that have recently come out exploring the phenomenon of animal destiny and how many times it is intertwined with humans. There is no doubt in my mind that all living creatures are connected to one another. Playing and dancing under the sun is not species specific. It is our relationships with one another, whether it is human to human or human to cat, that create fulfillment in our lives. Art is a natural reflection of this.

Marisol Tirelli Rivera