LOUDBODIES Dance Presents LEGALIZE MENSTRUATION Review – Period Representation… Period!

A single chair occupies the stage, the lights dim, and we see a dancer, Taimy Ramos, of the first piece, Ciclo Ancestral. Dressed in a black leotard and fishnet shorts, she spider crawls her way about the stage. She circulates the space, independently, exploring her body, growing into herself, embodying her spirit that lives deep within. Another dancer, Marceia Scruggs, enters from the right, approaching the chair slowly, deliberately, cradling a folded red-patterned fabric material. Once she sits, she drapes the fabric over her legs, and we see it’s a skirt. Ramos crawls over to the skirt, and slithers her way into it. She’s pulled through, stands, and the skirt rests perfectly on her hips falling to the floor.

Handled with care, this transfer triggers a change. Ramos begins to navigate her body through the space now with the skirt. Flowing fabric waves around her as she twirls, weighs her down on the floor, entangles her as she discovers this new way of being. We feel the turmoil that comes with this new identity: the confusion and anger that comes with the pain of the menstrual cycle. At one point, she pulls the skirt over her entire head and face, pulling it tight as she retreats to the back corner.

Scruggs, in the chair, gestures with her hands across her lap as if adjusting and placing a fabric about her legs. Ramos takes off the skirt, cradles it in her arms like a baby. Handled with care, she transfers the skirt back to Scruggs. She puts it on herself now, and repeats the gestures with the fabric in her hands.

This exchange, and gathering from the title of the piece itself, shows us the weight and fortitude of the cycle of life from a female-bodied perspective.

In the exposed space of the Preston Bradley Center, we see the dancers transition to the next piece, Does anybody have a tampon? The four dancers set up their different costume pieces about the stage, and eventually perch themselves in the back right corner atop a white and red blanket and chair.

Music begins to play, and as if in a music box, they tick, shake, lean, and turn to the beat. Even their faces change to look at the audience like puppets. Suddenly, they all buckle in pain, clutching their lower bellies and scrunching their faces. They each move from their perches--Kait Dessofy, on top of the blanket, grabs for the ends and wraps themself into it. This sudden commotion sparks a forward motion into the space. House music starts to play, and the dancers undulate their bodies into a slow jack, stemming from the pain of cramps low and deep inside. They proceed with choreography that flows in and out of genuine expressions of period pain, shame, and worry that it’s leaking through their white clothes!

One dancer becomes the center of all attention, interrupting the other dancers as they go through the dance as if in rehearsal, talking through the steps. She whispers to one dancer, “Do you have a tampon?” and gets nothing but weird looks. She goes around to each dancer, asking them for a period product to help her apparent leakage.

 Fed up, she yells this time, “Does anybody have a tampon?!”

All the dancers stop in their tracks and look at her, astounded she speaks so loudly of such a private matter. “Don’t say that so loud!” “Why didn’t you just ask?!” Bending over with her booty to the audience, the other dancers surround her to check if she’s bleeding through.

The dancers then share anecdotes about their experiences asking around for period products, feeling ashamed about having a period, and frustrated that their needs aren’t met when the rush of blood comes without notice. At one point, the dancers step off the stage and approach audience members one by one, asking if we have tampons, and collecting them from patrons who came prepared.

One dancer admits she likes when her period comes, reminding her that she isn’t pregnant. She then takes her white pants and white shirt off. A public unveiling, she is now dressed in all red. She flows about the stage, her movement as fiery red as her clothes and the experience of menstruation.

The other dancers eventually join her in red, sitting in chairs with attitude, one pretends to smoke a cigarette (think hormone monstress from the raging Netflix series Big Mouth). These monstresses share stories about which young female they’re going to surprise this month. Horror stories of first periods are shared, one from 12 year old Jake, who’s testerone pills only fend off his period every so often. Their different red clothes show that each period is different, and affects each person in a different way--although they definitely choose when, where, and how they come, no matter if it’s inconvenient to the specified ovary-bearer.

A new period monstress arrives in a long red skirt. She’s concerned for all the people who don’t have access to period products, don’t have homes to wash up in, don’t have the means to care for themselves when their cycle decides to bombard them in their already stressful lives.

Eventually, the red clad dancers join in this dance, sharing their own period stories as they traverse the stage together. Their stories rush over each other’s and flood the audience’s ears. They eventually find themselves in the original tableau, music box period puppets leaning, shaking, ticking, and turning toward the audience as we first saw.

LOUDBODIES performances are cyclical, like their topic

The cyclical nature of these two pieces mirrors the cycle of menstruation--a person starts and ends in the same place, but their state of being has changed from going through each period. It also mirrors the cycle of menstruation as a whole. It takes up a period of one’s lifetime, starting young, ending old, with many horror and success stories in between. We see the emotional effects of periods, too, how it’s often a fight to get through those days each month. Fake smiles and rolled eyes get us through this extreme pelvic struggle.

These pieces left this writer beaming, overjoyed, and seen. They gave periods representation, bringing product awareness, period de-gendering, and the overall experience of menstruation to the forefron. ‘Legalize Menstruation also brought in 2,096 period products for donation to be distributed to those in need throughout the city through the Chicago Period Project!

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About the Author:

Sarah Stearn is a movement artist, native of Chicago, and graduate from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign with a BFA in Dance. Along with taking dance classes throughout the city, she is a dance instructor at the Irving Park YMCA and an organizer for the J e l l o Performance Series, housed at Links Hall and Elastic Arts.