Beauty is the Beast

Or at least the warped notion of beauty proselytized by beauty pageants is. Pardon the early week vitriol, I sort of caught Miss Earth last night.

In these times of progressive societal change, when we're supposedly free from the patriarchal ball and chain, why are we still condoning -- hell, celebrating -- instruments of oppression? Shouldn't we have outgrown beauty pageants? They should be nothing more but relics of a grossly misinformed, unenlightened past. 

Beauty pageants do nothing more than reaffirm the skewed priorities of society, reinforce an improbable, unrealistic template for beauty, and encourage young women to aspire to be superficial emissaries of half-assed causes. 

The least they could do is be forthright about it. There's nothing wrong with a competition with a premise of finding who looks best in a bikini, exclusively. Instead, they hide under the veils of feminism, humanitarianism and environmentalism. Behind pretenses like photo-op-and-press-con hungry ambassadorships. 

What exactly is empowering about wearing a skimpy swimsuit, 5 pounds of makeup and glitter, and 6-inch heels while you strut deliberately in such a way that you'd fool people into thinking your legs are longer, your behind more voluptuous? 

You want to know who the real beautiful women are? Well, I can tell you they don't spend hours on end contouring their abs, sculpting their butts and practicing how to walk elegantly in stilettos with encyclopedias on their heads. 

They are the ones who spend their lives doing actual good in the world, even when the cameras aren't rolling. They are the ones who are living the advocacies that pageant contestants feign to embody when rehearsing for question-and-answer portions. They are the ones who are in the forefront of realshit wars against hunger, epidemics and injustice. 

They are doctors who've given up lucrative practices to battle AIDS in hellish regions of Africa. They are teachers who cross rivers and climb mountains in far-flung communities for loose change. They are environmentalists who spend 10 hours a day, being barbecued under the sun, to fight industrial and capitalist monstrosities. They are mothers who are raising future leaders and change mongers. 

Their smiles may not be as sparkling, but at least theirs are genuine. 

As much as it pains me to say this, we are still raising a generation of young women dreaming of donning sashes, scepters and tiaras, instead of lab coats, gavels and hard hats. The princess culture is alive and well: rainbows, glitters and potpourri farts. 

I've always thought of Mulan as my favorite Disney princess. Not only did she resist oppressive gender roles, she actively fought against them. I'm sorry if she wasn't patient enough to wait for her horseback-riding prince. I guess she was too busy kicking Hun ass and saving China. To her, ball gowns are nothing but parachutes; glass slippers, melee weaponry.

I digress. Where was I? Oh yes, princesses. Damsels in distress. Fuck that shit. Be a heroine, instead. A warrior. A warrior princess, if that's your thing. Xena the shit out of this joint. Better yet, be whatever the hell you want to be. Do some good in this world, you magnificent, beautiful person.