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| Before... |
Although I couldn’t hear what was being said, it was a
safe bet the sponsors were hawking beauty products since it showed a series of
‘before’ and ‘after’ images of women. At first I was struck by how all the
women in the ‘before’ photos were already beautiful. The only difference in the
‘after’ images was that they wore more makeup. No big deal, initially.
Then the scene changed. Now the same women were clad in
two-piece bathing suits and walking across a stage in front of an audience,
apparently competing in a contest. Although the sound was down, I dismissed
that this was some straight forward beauty pageant since their swimwear was
rather modest, compared to racier swimsuits I’ve seen in my day.
 |
| ...After. No wait! That's prince not princess. |
Sitting in silence, I thought about what brand of
pageant it might be. Some scholarship-based competition, I guessed. Perhaps of
the sort where competitors demonstrate how well-rounded they are in order to
win. It was then that I began regarding what I was watching as repulsive. And
it wasn’t because of anything the women were doing.
Instead I was revolted by the implication that in order
for a woman to compete and win a scholarship or whatever, they had to show off
their body. Oh, I’m sure pageant organizers crafted some mumbo jumbo in the
contest rules that explained the swimsuit category as a physical fitness segment
or other fabrication. After all, there was also baton-twirling and the obligatory
‘world peace’ statement each contestant was also required to make.
Still, watching the beauty infomercial unfold, I gained a
deeper awareness of the truth and it was like having a bucket of cold water
thrown on me. That’s because reality has been right there in front of me all
along to recognize – except for the meta brainwashing by the male-centered cultural
conditioning (i.e., patriarchy) I’ve undergone since birth. And unfortunately continue
to experience.
Watching in silence reminded me of the disturbing reality
that accompanied the TV images and it wasn’t pretty: sex sells. Admission: it’s
not as if in my younger days I didn’t know the real deal about why pageants like
Miss America, Miss USA and Miss Universe conduct swimsuit segments; I just rarely
went there in my mind. Back then it felt right to watch women be depicted in
skimpy swimwear for my (and other males’) “benefit”. After all, it was just the
natural order of things, right? Wrong.
Frankly, I almost give a pass to pageants like Miss Hawaiian
Tropic, if it’s still even around. Almost. At least the sponsor made no bones that
their exploitive contests was all about sexuality and bodies. Oh yeah, and
suntan lotion. But compelling women to undress to win a college scholarship and
then insist it’s merely about eating right and working out is disgustingly disingenuous.
Maybe I’m all bent out of shape about this because my
oldest daughter turned 18 last month, she’s knee deep in popular culture (which encourages
female exploitation), and is about to leave the nest. In any event, I got up
from in front of the TV to go look at something that, if not as attractive as
the images on the screen, was at least more honest: the water-stained sheetrock
decomposing on my bathroom ceiling.
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