Valerie Schultz: Dude, where’s my tiara could be slogan of the boy pageant
| Friday, Mar 27 2009 06:00 PM
Last Updated Monday, Mar 30 2009 04:22 PM
“Somehow I'll make a man out of you …”
— Warrior Shang in Disney’s “Mulan”
The beauty pageant, as I have previously noted, seemed an oppressive, antifeminist affair, until my two younger daughters participated in the Junior Miss program in Tehachapi. Granted, Junior Miss has no bathing suit requirement and places more emphasis on scholarship than perfect teeth, but the positive experience of both my daughters made me less condemning of the concept of girls competing for prizes in poise and talent. And now, Tehachapi High School’s “Mr. Warrior” competition has put to rest the charge of pageants as sexist.
The history of the male beauty pageant is rather brief, as far as I can ascertain. Many high schools in the Portland, Ore., area, for example, put on boys’ pageants as fundraisers for charities or for their schools. The boys often mock or spoof the traditional pageant, even while showcasing male versatility. Amy Watkins, the teacher in charge of our program, tells me that many other schools put on pageants for boys: It is a growing trend.
Tehachapi’s “Mr. Warrior” program was conceived by the class of 2006, of which one of my daughters was a member. The title of “Mr. Warrior,” which comes from our high school’s mascot and name of our sports teams, is awarded to a senior boy, at the end of a program organized by the ASB class, and featuring the senior girls who took part in the local Junior Miss program the year before. This year’s production was ably directed and choreographed by the Commissioner of Spirit and Rallies, who is a senior in Ms. Watkins’ stellar ASB class. I was unable to attend 2006’s Mr. Warrior show, and it has not been held consistently each year since. But this year, since my youngest daughter was involved, I paid my five dollars, sat in the gym bleachers, and was astonished by what I saw.
Boys dancing! Boys impeccably dressed in suits! Boys singing and playing musical instruments! One boy wrote an original song, called “Mr. Warrior,” and accompanied himself on the guitar. We were treated to “Misty” on the saxophone, “Moon River” on the trumpet, some serious drumming, and some thrilling, moonwalking, Michael-Jackson-like choreography. Sixteen senior boys, many of whom I have known since they were in kindergarten, put on an energetic and compelling show. I shouldn’t even refer to them as boys: They are young men, swaggering along the brink of independent manhood.
The Mr. Warrior evening is structured on the framework of the Junior Miss program that our community knows so well. The entrants are required to demonstrate their physical fitness by executing a uniform routine (although the boys were more likely to embellish the set with one-armed push-ups and flips). They must each answer the same question thoughtfully and well. They must submit to an earlier interview with the panel of judges, and provide access to their high school grades. They must perform in rehearsed dances, both stag and partnered with last year’s Junior Miss participants, and they must showcase a talent of their own. Throughout the competition, they must present a polished appearance onstage.
I suspect my girls took the Junior Miss event far more seriously than the boys take Mr. Warrior. In Junior Miss, there is a lot more scholarship money at stake — the boys won things like gift certificates to local restaurants and free prom tickets — and a lot more fussing and drama over seemingly insignificant details. The boys seemed more at ease with the demands of Mr. Warrior. A few of the boys’ talents were tongue in cheek, such as ribbon dancing and sand-castle-building. But it was obvious that more than a few hours of rehearsal had gone into preparing the evening’s performance.
The depth and caliber of these local young men impressed me. As the mother of daughters, I tend to be guilty of believing that teenage boys only think about one thing, which is a thing I want to prevent them from taking from my daughters. I think of them as uniformly hormonal, insensitive toads, perhaps unfairly lumping them in with some of the grabbier, less choice boys I remember from my high school years. It took me by surprise to see these boys-to-men as thoughtful, smart, funny, sweet, civilized people. I guess I don’t know much about boys, even though I am married to one. At my ripe age, I still have a lot to learn, as well as apologies to make.
I saw many proud parents in the bleachers, and along with them, our entire community felt a surge of pride that evening: These are Tehachapi-grown boys, our finest, and as they become men, they have so much to offer the world beyond our city limits. For the first time ever as a parent, I felt a small twinge of longing, and realized that, as much as I love mothering my daughters, I might actually have liked to have a son. I felt a little sad for a moment. Which is the truest tribute I can offer to these young men of light and strength, these warriors of hope and promise.
