This past weekend, my girlfriend and I attended the Miss Lane County pageant at Willamette High School. It wasn’t the sort of thing I would have done on my own, but one only has so many chances to spend a Saturday evening looking at other women with his girlfriend’s approval, so I seized on the opportunity. The 11 contestants – many of whom were University of Oregon students – proved to be a very talented group of singers, dancers and public speakers.
The pageant is a subset of the Miss America Foundation, which is the largest provider of scholarships for women in the world. Winners of Miss Lane County receive a $500 scholarship and can eventually move on to the Miss America pageant, where winners receive $100,000 in scholarship money. Contestants in pageants such as Miss Lane County must actively fundraise for charities and lobby for a cause of their choice, such as education or disease research.
Miss America began in 1921 as a national beauty pageant held in Atlantic City, N.J. As it turned out, men loved paying money to see the 50 most beautiful women in the country wearing bathing suits, and the pageant quickly gained popularity and became an annual event. During the 1960s, the pageant drew the ire of feminists, who criticized the event as a competition for male approval. As the women’s liberation movement caught on, the Miss America Foundation put a greater emphasis on talent and interviewing in the judging process, and now actively bills itself as a scholarship program which provides “personal and professional opportunities for young women to promote their voices in culture, politics and the community,” according to its Web site.
Close, but no cigar. Or, more specifically, close, but there are still some arcane and jarring reminders of the scholarship program’s history as a beauty pageant.
Participants in Miss Lane County receive a thick binder full of competition guidelines. To the pageant’s credit, many of the guidelines concern public speaking and tips for fundraising. However, there are also several large sections devoted to personal appearance. The competition’s preparation checklist reminds contestants to go tanning and whiten their teeth (at their own expense) before the day of the pageant. A two-page list of instructions on hair care is introduced with the phrase, “A title holder should never have fuzzy or frizzy hair.” The list of makeup instructions begins with the line, “One of the most fun parts of being a woman is wearing makeup.” The beauty manual concludes by assuring contestants that, “By finding the perfect balance of hair styling, skin care, and makeup application, you will be ready to conquer the world!”
Keep in mind, the first page of the booklet declares that Miss Lane County “… is a scholarship program, not a beauty pageant.”
According to Nicole Akins, executive director of the pageant, “You wouldn’t apply for a job with a Fortune 500 company with your hair a mess and your clothing sloppy and we expect our girls to look presentable when they are in the community or making appearances for local businesses.” This is understandable – proper grooming is important when making a first impression. However, I’ve never met anyone who has gone so far as spray tanning and teeth whitening before a job interview (although I will admit, it was certainly helpful in getting me a job here at the Emerald).
I have no inherent problem with beauty pageants; if women want to dress up nicely and walk around on stage for people to look at, by golly, let no one stand in their way. I also have no problems with scholarship programs; if women want to raise millions of dollars for charity and showcase their talents before an audience, by golly, let no one stand in their way.
My problem is with a beauty pageant masquerading as a scholarship program and I think, though perhaps unintentionally, that’s what Miss Lane County is. Sure, only 25 percent of the judging is based on personal appearance, but when the prize is a $500 scholarship and participants are encouraged to tan, whiten their teeth and get multiple facials at their own expense, most women would be lucky to break even.
I’m not calling for an end to pageants, and I’m not calling anybody involved with pageant culture evil. All I’m saying is that there ought to be some truth in advertising. If you’re going to advise contestants to have a perfect physical appearance, call it a beauty pageant. If the pageant is actually a scholarship program, maybe participants should be left to decide what will be most appealing to judges for themselves.
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