We've been having an extremely rough year, so I relish good news when it comes my way.
Some of you know that I've been researching language, the power of words, in particular as it relates to our body, our selves. The process of asking people what the name is for certain body parts has been fascinating. The looks I get. The responses. And then the epiphany. It has been enlightening for both parties, to say the least.
Believe me, each time I ask and I've had to ask total strangers as far away as Vietnam, I feel weird. Like I'm a pervert. So I do my best to explain without giving it all away, for fear of affecting the answers. No one has ever responded without asking why. No one.
Why do you want to know how to say these "nasty" parts in my native tongue?
I wanted the slang and the clinical terms, of which I learned there is so much slang. In every language. No shortage!
My face turns into a permanent state of red.
Some friends who did not know asked me to educate them once I had the answers. My parents didn't tell me either, they said. One said it was only through me that she learned her parents lied, made up the words. We only discovered this because I tried to verify what she told me with native speakers and the Internet. They furrowed their brows and said, Uh no we've never heard of those words. Why did her parents do that to her?
It makes me laugh because like most Asian Americans, I had three career choices: Doctor, Physician, M.D. That's it. And yet, if I had dared to ask my parents how do you say penis, balls, vagina, fallopian tubes, clitoris in Chinese, they would've smacked me across the face. No questions asked. Oh yes, my father beat me until the day I decided I would not return home ever again. And my mother left when we were teens. So there you go.
Language is powerful. Words are powerful. I've performed my monologue at a few readings, people come up to me and say I remind them of George Carlin. This makes me very happy. George Carlin was a genius.
And please, if you are willing to help me in my ongoing research, help me with the slang and clinical terms for male and female anatomy, drop me a line.
This is paraphrased, but based on a real conversation I had with my MALE breast surgeon.
DR: You have a lump in your right breast the size of a Meyer Lemon! How could you let this happen? Don't you touch yourself?
ME: (Of course I was embarrassed, ashamed) Good Chinese Girls Don't Touch Themselves. We study.
DR: What about your husband? Didn't he notice?
ME: We're married. Long time married.
DR: You have to start giving yourself breast exams.
ME: Oh, I'm good with homework. I like to pass tests.
I was really lucky. That lump was benign. But it has only become more challenging as I try to stay fit, and on top of my health care. I try to remember what Dr. Oz says, there is no embarrassing question. But that's not really true. I still have trouble, but at least I'm fighting it. Both in real life and in my writing. I'm happy to announce that my monologue DOWN THERE -- which may be part of a longer work entitled CHINESE GIRLS DON'T SWEAR -- will be showcased at SLUT Festival in WDC.
There's a lot more to the story, my story, but I cannot give it all away!
Dear Ms. Wang:
Your play, Down There, is pertinent and funny, and makes a great point about the power of sexism in language. In other words, we love it and we would be delighted and honored to include it in our SLUT staged reading festival!
Please confirm that you would still like to have Down There included in SLUT, and we will follow up soon with more details. We very much look forward to showcasing your work!
Sincerely yours,
The Disreputables
Catch us next at SLUT, a festival of short works inspired by the War on Women - part of the UNmute! staged reading series
Tues 10/22 & Wed 10/23, 7:30-10:30 pm @ Arlington Arts Center
