Playing the Virgin

Black Madonna

This Madonna hangs in the a church I visited on Mamalodi, South Africa

Saturday night, I volunteered to play a Virgin female archetype in a performance for Amy Jo Goddard’s Women’s Apprenticeship group.   The evening was a small gathering of women who were to play other archetypes like the slut, the princess, the victim, the femme fatal, the prostitute, etc.  Our small performance was presented for Amy Jo women’s group and then a small discussion about the archetypes followed.

I am far from being a virgin and honestly was slightly annoyed when I received my virginity monologue.  My virginity stuck around for a long time.  By the time I lost it, I was longing for touch, lonely, so horny and so frustrated.  But embodying the virgin was kind of nice.  On one hand, virgins can be naïve and innocent.  But on the other they can choose to wear their “purity” as a badge of honor.

I was a well read virgin.  I coveted erotica and read “Our Bodies, Ourselves” cover to cover.  I did a lot of self-discovering and masturbating to figure out what I liked and to keep myself distracted from the fact that I was desperately single.  My virginity annoyed me until I finally lost it to a woman my senior year of college.  So playing the virgin just reminded of my past shy, sexual self.

But at the end of the performance sitting in my long white dress, I had a new found appreciation for my old virgin self.  I held onto my virginity for a lot of reasons.  I wanted to wait for right women (not the boys I was haphazardly fouling around with) who knew what she was doing and could teach me how to do it to others.  And it was worth the wait (thanks SaraVibes!).

So in light of this new appreciation, I decided to write a letter to my virginity.  This writing exercise was inspired by Tatyana Brown, slam poet extraordinaire, who did the exercise with folks on her slam team.  Here goes:

Dear Virginity,

Thank you for sticking around for as long as you did.

I can’t say I miss you.  Being with you became utterly lonely and tiresome but you meant something to me.  Keeping you around meant that I really was “waiting for the right moment”.  I was determined that my first time would be good.  I didn’t care whether or not it was romantic or candle lit.  I just wanted to feel good, feel safe and feel secure in my decision to offer my body to someone.

And I did.  I had five hours of hot, steamy, disparate sex losing you and it was amazing.  All my friends were jealous that they had not waited as long as I did because there first time was a natural disaster.  All those nights with you, alone, paid off.

So, again, I thank you.  I think of you often and I hope you are well wherever virginity goes when we lose it.

Ashley

So if you are reading this and want to take on writing your virginity a brief letter, DO IT.  Express your hate, your distaste, your love or even your indifference about your virginity.  Or just do because you never thought you would think about your virginity again.  If you do, send it to me.   If I get enough letters, I will gladly post it on my blog as a Virginity board, so to speak.

Send your letters to indigostheory@gmail.com.

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