I’m a theater student. I know that sounds like an excuse for any irrational, hyper-emotional or negotiable behavior, but “theater student” is actually just the only phrase that you need to know about me in order to get my flow. That and “often mistaken for a seven-year-old.”
I was doing a scene for a class this past fall which required a surplus of condoms as props. Rather than catch one of those uber-chic OCCT blue buses to Target only to throw down a couple of hard-earned bills from my summer job for a box of Trojans, I figured that given the current economic status of the nation, it just might be a better idea to ease on down to the RA office and snag me a handful for free.
“Hi,” I said to the folks chilling in the office, “I need a lot of condoms.” They looked at me, all 4 feet 11 inches, and tried to conceal a snicker. What, like tiny people can’t get laid at 7 p.m. on a Wednesday? “For a scene.” More laughter. “No, really,” I said, “I’m a theater student. If you don’t believe me, you can come see [insert shameless plug for the production I was in at the time].”
“I’m sorry,” I was told, “but if you’re going to need that many, you’re going to have to go to health services.” At which point, I decided it would be best to muster up all the dignity I ever had and parade myself back to my room. I was left pondering two things: Why the stingy distribution of the rubbers? And which of the people on my buddy list would have the most and be willing to spare a sister a hefty number?
However, a few months and a successful scene later (I managed to skirt my way around the stingy distribution of the free latex), I am still left with the judgment with which I was met. Why can’t a girl ask for — or need — a supply of condoms? Even if it is for a scene, what makes it so gosh darn laughable, or better yet, worthy of harsh judgment?
Think about it. The last time you went Downtown and your friend got her handbag ready and shoved in the usual lip gloss, ID, phone and wallet, when she slipped in the Magnum you not only thought “ho point five,” but quoted “Juno” and said, “Whoa! Dream big!”
Why is it that women who seek protection are slammed as slutty, while if a guy asks for some he’s seen as either the captain of the game, wink wink, or a responsible young man? A condom, which serves as a barrier to some seriously bad news bears (i.e. venereal diseases) has more of a stigma than the STIs themselves. And not only do condom-carrying girls get a bad reputation, but the accompanying laugh track for those who seem like unsuspecting condom-carriers is less than inspirational. It’s remarkable how one little piece of latex holds so much meaning and is the emblem for so much gender-based judgment.
We actually had Condom Day in my health class in high school. We learned how to properly use one and to always check the expiration date. However, we weren’t given free ones, perhaps because our health teacher thought that would either make him look bad, or he didn’t think that a few years down the line one of the students would need a hefty supply for an acting class scene. And I swear, it really was for a scene.