Menstruation. The term comes with a ton of stigmatic baggage in some corners of the world, despite sincere efforts to radically change such long-held patriarchal beliefs. Misogynistic expectations surrounding womanhood are also tacked onto this purely biological process, manufacturing a sense of gendered shame that shouldn’t exist to begin with. Even when this process gradually stops, a whole new Pandora’s box worth of societal stigma tumbles out — women have scarce societal resources to deal with menopause, where its medical aftereffects are downplayed to infuriating levels. This has been an uphill battle for decades, as medical misogyny — coupled with garden-variety ignorance about the female body — has relegated menopause to a sidelined topic that is rarely touched upon with informed sincerity.
Multimedia storyteller Satori Shakoor approaches this taboo surrounding menopause with fierce gusto, using her gift to weave a riveting performance that promises a medley of humor, heightened stakes, and a deeply personal odyssey. Her genre-blend standup concert film, “Confessions of a Menopausal Femme Fatale,” unravels like a memorable fever dream across Detroit Public Theater and its enchanted live audience. Right off the bat, there’s a refreshing honesty to the narrative, brought to life by Shakoor’s electric stage presence and the vulnerability that comes with standup as a medium.
Shakoor opens with the distressing instance of a panic attack, which soon opens the doors of her past, along with the complex emotions evoked by the prospect of homecoming. A decision made years ago in Hawaii had altered the trajectory of her existence, and Shakoor scrutinizes these events with frank self-awareness, acknowledging every discomfiting and emancipating instinct without inviting self-pity. A drive down memory lane is never easy, especially for a woman of color navigating the ever-shifting stages of femininity and the undeniable burden of performance that comes with it.
Shakoor doesn’t play coy about these complexities at all, as she dives into these uncomfortable truths with startling authenticity, speaking about the messiness that is often brushed under the carpet. Conversations with her mother become conduits for revelation, as these personal exchanges transform over time, underlining the pain inherent in change. But there’s also freedom that comes with acceptance, with confronting parts that we would rather hide away from the world. But Shakoor is relentlessly honest about her self-introspection, and it is impossible not to be moved by her journey, which is marked equally with loss and tempered hope.
Any autobiographical narrative runs the risk of being self-indulgent, and “Confessions of a Menopausal Femme Fatale” unfortunately leans rather heavily into this impulse, racking up a runtime close to two hours. As engrossing as Shakoor’s stage presence is, the uninterrupted standup structure starts to feel tedious after a while, especially when some of the humor doesn’t land quite as powerfully as one would expect. Sometimes, Shakoor breaks into song, her sonorous voice brimming with depth of emotion, but the impact is transparently uneven throughout her performance. Some segments would undoubtedly benefit from tighter editing, as it would prevent “Confessions” from tapering into an experience that overstays its welcome.
That said, “Confessions” is a clear genre standout, an unapologetic one-woman vehicle that holds up a mirror to the more overlooked aspects of womanhood that deserve a spotlight in informative, uplifting conversations. Shakoor’s journey might not reflect yours, but radical empathy is the lifeblood of art — it fuels our connection to community and compels us to confront our limitations, even when someone’s approach to self-acceptance differs drastically from our own. Shakoor’s unique voice rings loud and true, carving a much-needed space for female-oriented stories about painful breakthroughs and empowered transformations.
![The Occupant [2020] Netflix Review – A convoluted yet sinister thriller about greed and perfection](https://79468c92.delivery.rocketcdn.me/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/The-Occupant-Hogar-Highonfilms-768x321.jpg)
