Time	Today at 7:00pm - Tomorrow at 10:00pm
Location	UT Student Activity Center San Jacinto & 23rd Austin, TX
Created By	Ebony Stewart
More Info	V-Day The University of Texas at Austin 2011Presents a Benefit Production of THE VAGINA MONOLOGUES March 30, 31, April 1, 2011 at 7:00 PM, Student Activity Center Auditorium """PLEASE NOTE: Ebony Stewart will only be featured in the Wednesday & Thursday show""" ...On March 30, 31, April 1, 2011, at 7:00 PM, V Day The University of Texas at Austin will present three night only benefit reading of Eve Ensler’s award wining play The Vagina Monologues at the Student Activity Center Auditorium. Last year, over 5400 V-Day benefits were held around the world raising funds and awareness towards ending violence against women. These highly successful events raised over $4 million through performance of Eve Ensler’s award-winning play, The Vagina Monologues, readings from V-Day’s A Memory, A Monologue, A Rant and A Prayer and Any One Of Us: Words From Prison and screenings of V-Day’s documentary Until The Violence Stops. The University of Texas at Austin has joined this global movement as part of the V Day 2011The University of Texas at Austin Campaign. Tickets: $10 (at the door) Ebony's monologue will be dedicated to the late Sheila Siobhan & the AWESOME ALIVE & Vibrant Angel Wilson

24 Hours in San Diego...

New day, another plane, and I am early morning.
Traveling across time zones. My body will P.S. me later for that.
I am arriving to hills, alive, no music, unless you count my iPod.
Alittle airport with cute fixtures remind me of quaint moments I have had with loved ones.
He is BMW 5-series and I instantly miss Crimson. Black bones meet my red bone race car wind in our hair, harbor to the left of things, but I missed it.

He is big space cluttered in memories. I appreciate in inches but stay still. Just passing through. Don't want to mess up ANYTHING while I'm here. Be quiet. Sit quietly.
Their gas prices look like Austin's. This city reminds me of Austin, with a hint of San Antonio.
I am practicing when no one is home to hear me.

I am tourist in passenger. Sitting at tables that keep birds aggressively waiting to snack on your plate when you're not looking. They be border close, Mexican food like for real... Texas, welllll you're TEX-MEX... not the same.
He will comfort me about my outfit from Nats 2010. He had/has my back and I didn't even know it. I have decided to take away any theory that their are no more good men left... I mean, I know a lot more than a few anyway... He said I don't have to bare their weight, expectations. Don't have to hold that __________ for ALL WOMEN if I don't want too. It is my choice.
Again, I apologize if my outfit offended anyone. But in my defense, I thought I was cute... and my MOMA didn't mind!

I am back to dress, change clothes, and go. He looks at me like I did a complete 360. Nah, just a 180. Curled my hair and put on some Fashion Fair. You know, add the Princess to the Gully.

I see him in political views that make up his common sense. I like it. Happy he's more than a poet, but more importantly that he is an artist who is also a feminist.

We are crossing streets to dance studios little space to big space. I am anxious in heartbeats that no one can hear.
I am feet to the floor solid in movement. When did movement feel like breath. I am name called up to the mic. I am ready to spit. I am rehearsed, breaking rehearsed moves to say THANK YOU. I am BEAST. I am WOMAN. I am accepted and heard. I am visible, audible, and felt through goosebumps. I am finger snaps in my left ear... now my right. I am a good thing. I am fixed, vulnerable in this room. My heart surrounds the room. I am not big enough, but enough. I am almost sold out. They love Luv Sux.

I am content with this night, that moment.

We are Roberta's on the corner of the hood. Carne Asada (spelling?) I will not finish you but thank you for getting my eyes full. We are laughing at silly men and women and whenever love will not be admitted.
We are where she calls home. And I am comfortable. I am sleeping on Keo's pillow dreaming of women who make me happy with their strength. I am mind gone. Texting content. We are asleep in no time. Awake at 4am... the other she will come for me soon. And it is clear she has never met a stranger... or at least not in poets.

We are riding like the street lights are about to come on. Under the moon and over the beach. We are conversation and Pandora.
I am thank you for barely making it and making the drive to John Wayne O.C...
Dear John Wayne, I like San Diego's airport better.

I am separated by class... economic with my bare feet looking at first class. Somehow segregation is needed. I am waiting for an hour to board new flights-Standby . I am tired.
No, I'm like REALLY TIRED.

I am back to the seat.
Straight up.
Leaning,
with my camera... but asleep awaking Texas in a real way.

To San Diego, I will see you again soon. 24 hours was not enough.
To Brooklyn, I didn't cheat on you so stop actin all jealous!
lol

Day 3
Leaving Brooklyn...

Half of me is back in Texas already.
I am alone in the space, this room, a corner of the hotel that sits on the corner of 25th and 4th Ave and I have decided to cry.
No one sees me but the mirror and the walls. I've spoken my poems into them so they see me as genuine.
To New York, thank you. I will see more of you soon.
To Brooklyn, I wasn't supposed to fall in love, so I'll be back. Keep my toothbrush where everyone can see it.
To the Sun that hasn't come up, be quiet in my heart - I am still on the moon.
To Antonio who goes by Anthony, originally from the Dominic Republic, you are the NICEST taxi driver I have ridden in since I've been here and you say Miami has your heart. I tell you Texas birthed mine but Brooklyn is my boyfriend.
I have a few things for a few people in my backpack, a snack or 2, pen and pad... their smiles and laughs.
Airport. Boarding. Middle name still the same.
I have stories to tell. Bloated with stories for my autobiography.
I am same seat out as I was in. 7A, with my back straight.
Leaning...
Dreaming possibilities.
Waking in Texas. Austin to be exact.
I am Blacklisted on the bottom of my feet.
Jay-Z on my heels.
Rockstar... stunna shades... middle name still the same.

But Brooklyn, well, we've decided to have a long distance relationship...

Day 2
Waking up in Brooklyn...

I pinch myself to see if you really exist.
Same corner looks at me from my window. I am 4 hours of sleep operating excitement. I am text reminders on Mo's phone, because "Tom's Diner gets busy quick."
Duh-ta Duh-ta Duh-ta Duh-ta...
Mo is on my phone sounding un-human assuring she will rise. Exhaustion on her lips but will meet me on Atlantic again.
I am crossing the street, on the correct subway, heading the right direction. I am iPod in my right ear, left ear listening to hearts beat, eyes fixed on signs... you look the same no matter the time of day.
To the man directing people onto the shuttle, was that grunt at me supposed to be appealing? Animal, I am not interested in your breed.
I am ear to phone with Ken Arkind's voice on the other end of a name that isn't who I called. I am walking away from Atlantic, following instructions, scooped to close door on my right side. There is a younger face that makes me miss my niece. Same age, but not afraid to speak first.
To the daughter of Browne, you are one of the most beautiful voices I have ever seen.
Instantly I am small like her, engaged in conversation.
We are walking...
Waiting in short lines.
To Tom's Diner, you remind me of the Breakfast Klub in Houston, TX. Thank you.
"I am sitting
In the morning
At the diner
On the corner."
Eating goodness, belly full of homemade butter, spinach egg & cheese omelet, and toast. A piece of lemon turkey sausage is teasing my taste buds.
To Mo, you wrong for that!
To Ken Arkind, thank you for beat boxing and allowing me to break in.
We're walking.
To the people who put unwanted items on the street, you should write down its memories before its gone.
To the bookstore that smells like words and dusty truth, you have good things.
I bought a few.
We are walking...
Picking up to drop off close to Jay St.
To Jay-Z, they are proud of you. Your billboard is brilliant. Oh! And you KILLED when you came to Austin last year. Thank you for never disappointing me.
To the stores downtown, I expect VANS when I return.
To Juniors, you will be worth it later tonight.
We are moving...
Pavement holds up signs that remind us not to honk or a $350 fine will be given. And I am amazed at the urge fingers have to press down.
To the woman who looks familiar, I will ask you later if you are the voice I remember.
To the performance by Mahogany L. Browne and Keomi Tarver, ya'll ish was DOPE! And I came with these people...
We are walking...
Dominican Restaurant on the corner. Ajillo y arroz blanco.
Survival tip #2: You have to know Spanish to live here. In case you missed it, Survival tip #1 was, you have to have a smart phone because you will need to know your way lol.
And I will ask the woman with beautiful coffee skin if she is the voice I remember and she will say yes, LET"S GO!
To Keomi, thank you for being easy to be around, for agreeing with me about doing the Dougie to anything!
To the laughter and aggression wrapped around the brim of our margarita glasses, I do not want to leave.
To the interaction between mother and daughter, you confirmed I should write this "one" poem and that my moma is a good mother.
We are moving the Sun down.
We are back in traffic that moves faster than Austins.
I am Kodak thoughts in recent flashbacks to Mo's random freestyle and her saying, "I got tattoos... Yea they called STRETCH MARKS SON! ALL DAY SON!! WHAT!!
LMAO
In no particular order...
We are subway with no signal. Robotic in the way she knows six months and still. We are small door that can lead to anywhere. At this time I am speaking quietly to myself and I admire small women who are doing big things. I am happy to be a piece of the furniture moving slightly like breath. And they continue like an episode of "Girl Friends" - Brooklyn style.
Up.
We are walking like a run.
Laced blisters, sore on my feet. But its Brooklyn so I gotta go hard.
Survival tip #3, you have to have comfortable shoes to live here!
To the Baby Cat in the subway darkness... you scare me, shockingly you are a rat.
To the mother and daughter on the shuttle, you remind me of this "one" poem I can't wait to write.
To the Brooklyn museum, how long have you been displaying my heart? Thank you for showing me that black women can be pin-ups too.
To the DJ spinning "that's my jam" for everyone dancing like no one is watching, you are FUN!
To Brooklyn's windchill, why can't you stay nice!? Why must you be bipolar in the way you blow me to tears.
There are no taxis' that stop for black girls no matter how cute we are. And she, happens to be my bestie right now. My list is short, but I've decided to add her to it, call her forever. How'd I love so quick.
We are waving arms to my desperate disbelief one yellow taxi stops.
I am 25th and 4th Ave.
I am exhausted in a real way.
From the back of my neck, to the twinge in my pinky toe, to the back of my back, front forehead, hair sweat, I am exhausted in a real way.
Change clothes... and go to bed! lol With fork into this cheesecake. I am happy to once have had cherries red like my BMW, Crimson on my lips I am torn. Not ready to go home but I have not enough here to stay. And they are calling for me to come back. Never missing a good thing until I was gone. They don't appreciate me like I need them too. And I tell myself it's okay. I am still a good thing.
SO small to this city no matter how many shoes I have. And those are packed too.
I do not think about changing. I gotta smell of Brooklyn on my shirt so I sleep in it.
Just sleeping to the sound of Brooklyn is still awake.

Day 1
Brooklyn Bound...

To the Asian man on the plane,
Passing gas in a small space more than once is not proper or funny.
To the West Indian lady at JFK who couldn't help me with more than an "I don't know" response to my airport shuttle service,
you should not be working in customer service.
To the first Dominican taxi driver I had driving me to the hotel, I think you over charged me.
New York, you are concrete on top of concrete. No wonder you're so hard. And yet, beauty comes in all textures. You are dirty in truth and first glimpse, but proud to be New York.
The Best Western on 4th Ave and 25th is nice.
To the Asian lady cleaning the rooms that gave me my first real smile, thank you.
I am wanting convo with familiarity so I meet up with K. Sandbloom. 25 blocks later and hoods I've never met, I am at "Friendlys" on Church Ave. I have not seen a church on this street. "Friendlys" is grammatically incorrect and the food is not good.
To the young men talking loud, thank you for color in laughter.
To Sandbloom, you owe me good Chinese food!
To the taxis that will not stop for me but will for K. Sandbloom, F-YOU!
To the taxi driver who stopped almost an hour later and tried to take me the long way... DON"T PLAY ME! I just walked 25 blocks down 20th 2 hours ago, I know my way my man!
To myself, I am proud of you for being fearless. But your still shaking. took you 10 years to get here. Your mother knows why.
Tonight, 3 seconds instead of 1, you will forget your lines. Luckily, you've been in the mirror transitioning. Your brother will call and be family, your words will proclaim their love, and time will say you deserve this moment, damn what anyone has to say.
Mahogany will turn the meaning of your name white when she says, "Take the R train to Atlantic (about 4 or 5 stops) get off and I'll be waiting for you." You will remember that you have never used public transportation outside of the school bus and the Grey Hound from when you were dating that one loser. She will say you have 10 to 15minutes to leave when you know you need 30. You will say okay, look at yourself a few more times. Short ways and long ways. Oddly even, you will put on the sneakers that Mahogany said will be cute. There your favorite and they know it. When they heard they were going they pretended not to be excited. There red and white and say a lot about you. And yet, they know your swag is regardless.
Your red jacket capes. It heard you ask the shoes to make the jeans complete. And yet, nothing prepared me.
To the hotel clerk that didn't tell me I had to cross the street to go in the right direction on the train, I was almost in Long Island SON!
For the ticket attendant in the gated glass box, I thought my pass was good for 2hours? Why I gotta buy another one? So you just not gone answer me...K.
$2.50, new direction, and 8 stops later, I am waiting to laugh at myself. "You had your first tourist moment."
To Mahogany L. Browne who lets me call her Mo, ride in her van, and reminds you of your favorite family member, thank you for the meat platter, white wine, and lobster mac. She sits across me in small space and exudes good conversation, advice, and confidence. And I've decided to make her forever whether she likes it or not. Laughter will sit close to our plates and she will remind me of what she saw in me since day one. I will smile with my eyes and translate a thank you for believing me. We are women, and I am like little sister.
And we're walking...
To the 150+ people waiting outside of Nuyorican for poetry, I am amazed. P.S. you intimidate me...
I am moments that feel like an adrenaline rush. I am heart beating fast, emotions running into each other, Where is that freeze in time I've been saving to use?
To the text messages, facebook posts, and tweets, thank you for traveling in the back of pockets.
To the phone calls I made while standing on the stairs behind the DJ booth, can you hear my heart?
To the microphone proudly placed on a modest stage of ready carpet, can you hear my heart?
To the host, the audience, Pepe, the concrete, can you hear my heart through my transitions?
Time goes...
20minutes feel like 5 and I am shrinking back tears. Whose first time in New York is also on Nuyoricans stage? I am apart of history. Can't remember breathing. But I hid inside of hair follicles of acceptance.
I am a good thing.
To the lady who shook my hand afterward and said, "Welcome to New York baby, we love you." You are beautiful. Can I now get in your pocket and see what you see? Even better, can you hear my heart?
To the young lady who bought a book, you're welcome 1st, thank you more.
To the women who got on stage, I need you.
To Jive and Mo dancing to Beyonce, Oh! Oh! Ohhhh!
To DJ Whatever on the radio, you play for my hometown. How'd you know I needed something Southern flavored?
To the city that never sleeps, I will...
as soon as my heart stops beating like young Brooklyn being born to its culture.