I should have known better. I'm no beauty queen. Beauty, sure. Queen, only on my good days. It was during high school. Perhaps I was drawn by the crown or out of boredom or curiosity. My motivations somewhat unknown, even to me, I stood before the crowd assembled in Sisseton, South Dakota's high school auditorium and sought the Snow Queen crown.
I'm reminded of my own sordid beauty pageant past by a recent clip in which a very confused Miss Teen South Carolina answers the question of the sages: "Why can't many U.S. citizens locate their own country on a map? Beautiful.
I'm tempted to write off the beauty pageant industry as obviously populated solely with vapid crown chasers, eating only cotton balls and using preparation H in the strangest places for optimal firmness. But, in a strangely out of character way, I've been there, and while I cannot comment on the tenacity of women who go for state or national crowns, I can offer some insight on why women still compete for the chance to be labeled "Prettiest" "Smartest" "Best in Show," when all indicators should lead us to believe we're already there.
Despite our ever-increasing achievements in school, the workplace, and even the hard sciences (thanks, Apollo), women remain trapped in what Naomi Wolfe has coined "the Beauty Myth." Miss Teen South Carolina notwithstanding, most women in pageants are strikingly smart and articulate; unfortunately, it's not enough to be the smartest without also being the prettiest. In a clever sleight of hand, the patriarchal limitations second wavers overturned have been subtlety replaced with massive pressures to feed the beauty industry. And feed we do, perhaps not ourselves, but certainly the behemoth of diet remedies, make up, hair dye, plastic surgery, $10,000 pageant gowns... the list goes on. We're buying it because women caught in the beauty myth are convinced that only a certain socially appropriate appearance will satisfy her lovers, her employers, her friends, but most of all, herself.
What did the Snow Queen Pageant teach me about life? At the very end, each participant was called off the stage and asked whom we thought should win, ourselves or our best friend. One by one, we went under the pressure of the regional selection committee, (A committee consisting of Kathy, our school nurse and Donna, the local beautician.) Only one young lady won the crown. She chose herself.
(P.S. It wasn't me, although I did win Miss Junior Princess Spring. That's right.)
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
One Enchanted Evening (Or What the Snow Queen Pageant Taught Me About Life)
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Whoa! That selection question in the Snow Queen pageant is brutal, but ultimately very telling.
I once voted for my opponent in high school for president of some such organization. Upon learning this, another friend confronted me by saying, "if you don't think you're going to do a better job, why are you running in the first place?"
There I thought I was doing some noble service to the cosmos but in fact I was betraying insecurity, whether intentioned or not. There's a fine line between confidence and arrogance, but it's completely separate from being nice.
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