The only man who helps a woman find her vagina does so by doing nothing more than having the woman lay spread eagle on a bed and staring at her birth canal for an hour without saying a word. Finally, the romantic tells her how beautiful her labia are, and she is deeply moved. I'm no Don Juan, but if a woman stares in silence at my penis for over an hour then tells me how beautiful it is, I am calling the police. Not only is this weirdo set up as the only good man in the entire play, but also we are told that having a man help a woman find her vagina is not a politically correct way to do so. Silly me, I've been thinking all this time that sex between a man and a woman was normal.
Lesbianism is set up as one of the best ways to find the vagina.
I don't doubt that lesbians are some of the best at giving women pleasure, but the play goes too far. In one of the most distressing monologues, a little girl is raped. Child molestation is child molestation no matter what sexuality the molester is. Go ahead and have sex with my prepubescent daughter. Oral sex doesn't count, and at least you aren't a man.