Miss America Needs New Reality
Jordana Willner
Originally published San Francisco Chronicle
Sunday, October 15, 2000
I'M NOW TOO OLD to compete in the Miss America Pageant. Which is probably just as well, considering I've never impressed anyone by walking in high heels with a bathing suit taped to my butt, and I was five the last time I dazzled a crowd in an evening gown.
Missing my beauty contest window is no great loss. Ever since Heidi Hoskins went pageant in the 8th grade and came to school with Vaseline on her teeth and a new pivot- turn combo that substituted for walking, I figured my own talents would serve better elsewhere. But it's funny that while I now have a solid five years on most contestants, they still appear older than I in age and generation. With big hair and Stepford smiles, these girls seem to live in a timeless mid-century America, where World War II heroes preside and women work only until marriage renders them domestic.
It's a disturbing picture, yet I have to believe that the young women comprising the deceptively vapid lineup are far more than a pre-reproductive crew of Betty Crocker soccer moms-in-training. Silly as they look preening in sequins and lace, these poised competitors are probably a lot like me -- modern, ambitious, accomplished and willing to use a variety of channels to advance toward their vision of success. But while I use a computer and a dictionary, their venue has the unfortunate requirement that they parade themselves like prime USDA-select auctionettes in an antiquated contest that does little more than mock the challenges facing young women today.
In fact, as an anachronistic throwback to a time when congeniality, poise and posture defined a women's identity, the pageant does so little for modern audiences that Disney finds it increasingly hard to attract viewers. The producers might have tried to revamp the contest's publicity rap as a community service fest, but no one buys the alleged coincidence that the 51 most active do-gooders in the country also happen to be babes. Instead, many of the viewers who do bother to tune it in do so for campy value alone.
Which is too bad, because if Americans love anything more than beer and sports, it's beautiful women and a good contest. And with an injection of modernity, the contest could do what it was meant to do: identify the most impressive contestant of her time while entertaining a broad, captive audience.
Conventional pageanteers might spontaneously combust at the suggestion, but what if the contest actually capitalized on what people like to see by showcasing beauties while demanding that they demonstrate the variety of modern skills that each of them probably possesses? To appeal to the stringent demands of the American viewing public, call the program Miss American Survivor, and, instead of using the traditional judges, require the contestants to display cunning and political savvy by voting each other off the stage. The intrigue of deserted island politics would pale beside the cutthroat alliances and betrayals of 51 exceptional women vying for victory.
Then, within such a compelling format, the show could present legitimate challenges that any true miss in America must face. In the Miss Corporate America competition, a contestant would have to role-play an incident of sexual harassment or discrimination in the workplace. In the Miss Self-Defense America category, each miss would ward off an attacker using the martial art of her choice. For Miss Stock Market America, each contestant would receive $1,000 at the opening bell. The richest at contest's end would win, and any bankruptcies would result in disqualification. In Miss America Cooks, each contestant would be placed in a kitchen and given minimal time and ingredients to prepare a tasty, nutritious meal and clean up after herself.
In the question portion, naturally titled ``Who Wants to be Miss America,'' the contestants would answer challenging stumpers like: What would you do if you found yourself with an unwanted pregnancy? Have you ever had an eating disorder, and, if so, how did you treat it? Will you stay home with your children or go out to work? If and when you marry, will you take your husband's last name? What form of birth control do you use? How do you handle the situation when a man refuses to wear a condom?
Plus, for the category you've all been waiting for, a modernized pageant would acknowledge that no contest, modern or passe, is deemed complete without the requisite display of young beautiful skin. But here, the contestants would forgo the bathing suits and instead display their world-class figures in sports bras and Umbro shorts -- while kicking soccer balls through a goal post. The ballroom gowns would be replaced on the catwalk by business suits, displayed from all angles as the contestants maintain grace while carrying laptop computers, briefcases, and purses, answering ringing cell phones and responding to e-mail on Palm Pilots.
In sub-categories, each young woman would demonstrate her true range of modern capabilities by displaying proficiency in killing household insects, assembling PCs, programming VCRs and balancing checkbooks. The final four could then face each other in the Miss American Gladiator competition, where the girls demonstrate athletic superiority in a series of physical showdowns. And to the victor would go the crown.
Any young woman savvy enough to haul herself all the way to the Miss America Pageant should have no trouble with these challenges, and if she does, she has no place under the crown anyway.
America outgrew hokey pageant pomp back before most current contestants were even born, and while the viewing public may never outgrow beauty contests, we can at least hope that they grow with us. And in the year of so-called reality programming, any girl called Miss America deserves a seriously modern arena, where a seriously modern audience can watch her strut her seriously modern stuff.
--Jordana Willner wrote a monthly "Next Generation" column for the San Francisco Chronicle in 1999, 2000, and 2001
Originally published San Francisco Chronicle
Sunday, October 15, 2000
I'M NOW TOO OLD to compete in the Miss America Pageant. Which is probably just as well, considering I've never impressed anyone by walking in high heels with a bathing suit taped to my butt, and I was five the last time I dazzled a crowd in an evening gown.
Missing my beauty contest window is no great loss. Ever since Heidi Hoskins went pageant in the 8th grade and came to school with Vaseline on her teeth and a new pivot- turn combo that substituted for walking, I figured my own talents would serve better elsewhere. But it's funny that while I now have a solid five years on most contestants, they still appear older than I in age and generation. With big hair and Stepford smiles, these girls seem to live in a timeless mid-century America, where World War II heroes preside and women work only until marriage renders them domestic.
It's a disturbing picture, yet I have to believe that the young women comprising the deceptively vapid lineup are far more than a pre-reproductive crew of Betty Crocker soccer moms-in-training. Silly as they look preening in sequins and lace, these poised competitors are probably a lot like me -- modern, ambitious, accomplished and willing to use a variety of channels to advance toward their vision of success. But while I use a computer and a dictionary, their venue has the unfortunate requirement that they parade themselves like prime USDA-select auctionettes in an antiquated contest that does little more than mock the challenges facing young women today.
In fact, as an anachronistic throwback to a time when congeniality, poise and posture defined a women's identity, the pageant does so little for modern audiences that Disney finds it increasingly hard to attract viewers. The producers might have tried to revamp the contest's publicity rap as a community service fest, but no one buys the alleged coincidence that the 51 most active do-gooders in the country also happen to be babes. Instead, many of the viewers who do bother to tune it in do so for campy value alone.
Which is too bad, because if Americans love anything more than beer and sports, it's beautiful women and a good contest. And with an injection of modernity, the contest could do what it was meant to do: identify the most impressive contestant of her time while entertaining a broad, captive audience.
Conventional pageanteers might spontaneously combust at the suggestion, but what if the contest actually capitalized on what people like to see by showcasing beauties while demanding that they demonstrate the variety of modern skills that each of them probably possesses? To appeal to the stringent demands of the American viewing public, call the program Miss American Survivor, and, instead of using the traditional judges, require the contestants to display cunning and political savvy by voting each other off the stage. The intrigue of deserted island politics would pale beside the cutthroat alliances and betrayals of 51 exceptional women vying for victory.
Then, within such a compelling format, the show could present legitimate challenges that any true miss in America must face. In the Miss Corporate America competition, a contestant would have to role-play an incident of sexual harassment or discrimination in the workplace. In the Miss Self-Defense America category, each miss would ward off an attacker using the martial art of her choice. For Miss Stock Market America, each contestant would receive $1,000 at the opening bell. The richest at contest's end would win, and any bankruptcies would result in disqualification. In Miss America Cooks, each contestant would be placed in a kitchen and given minimal time and ingredients to prepare a tasty, nutritious meal and clean up after herself.
In the question portion, naturally titled ``Who Wants to be Miss America,'' the contestants would answer challenging stumpers like: What would you do if you found yourself with an unwanted pregnancy? Have you ever had an eating disorder, and, if so, how did you treat it? Will you stay home with your children or go out to work? If and when you marry, will you take your husband's last name? What form of birth control do you use? How do you handle the situation when a man refuses to wear a condom?
Plus, for the category you've all been waiting for, a modernized pageant would acknowledge that no contest, modern or passe, is deemed complete without the requisite display of young beautiful skin. But here, the contestants would forgo the bathing suits and instead display their world-class figures in sports bras and Umbro shorts -- while kicking soccer balls through a goal post. The ballroom gowns would be replaced on the catwalk by business suits, displayed from all angles as the contestants maintain grace while carrying laptop computers, briefcases, and purses, answering ringing cell phones and responding to e-mail on Palm Pilots.
In sub-categories, each young woman would demonstrate her true range of modern capabilities by displaying proficiency in killing household insects, assembling PCs, programming VCRs and balancing checkbooks. The final four could then face each other in the Miss American Gladiator competition, where the girls demonstrate athletic superiority in a series of physical showdowns. And to the victor would go the crown.
Any young woman savvy enough to haul herself all the way to the Miss America Pageant should have no trouble with these challenges, and if she does, she has no place under the crown anyway.
America outgrew hokey pageant pomp back before most current contestants were even born, and while the viewing public may never outgrow beauty contests, we can at least hope that they grow with us. And in the year of so-called reality programming, any girl called Miss America deserves a seriously modern arena, where a seriously modern audience can watch her strut her seriously modern stuff.
--Jordana Willner wrote a monthly "Next Generation" column for the San Francisco Chronicle in 1999, 2000, and 2001
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