My Saturday evening was spent in the town of Mulberry, Arkansas. I’m not sure what images might pop into your head when you read those words, “Mulberry, Arkansas.” Given the experiences I’ve encountered first hand, I could probably venture a few guesses at what might run through your head. However, to prevent any such assumptions, I’ll just go ahead and give a small run down.
First, I’ll go ahead and underline the obvious: it’s a small town. The population is listed at 1,627. As for the demographics, the town population is almost entirely white (almost 97%). As for the location, the town itself is nestled between the Ozark Mountains and the Arkansas River Valley in the southeastern reaches of Crawford County (about an 45minutes from the border with Oklahoma). Though the closer one gets to the “Fort Smith metro area” to the west the more diverse the population, this area of the state is by and large similar to Mulberry—a land of farms, blue collar jobs, church lovers, and television viewers.
A pageant drew me out of my cocoon and led me east to Mulberry. For some particular reason I was asked by a friend to help judge the Miss Mulberry 2009 beauty pageant (while many might not appreciate the various jokes I heard from acquaintances given their colloquial nature, rest assured they were all off-color and slightly disparaging). Since my life is a never ending quest for new experiences, I agreed (also taken in consideration was the fact that I had nothing else going on that evening).
I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I hadn’t really put much thought into the event prior to Saturday so I found myself staring at my closet fretting over what I should wear. As I stood there pondering my sartorial selection, it occurred to me that I was going to a beauty in Mulberry freaking Arkansas and it didn’t matter what I wore. So I went with what I had on: a pink polo shirt, khaki slacks, some green shoes, and a (slightly trimmed) mohawk.
Arriving at the pageant with my fellow judges a little late, we were ushered into the principal’s office at the high school to begin a debriefing of sorts. The principal, herself a veteran pageant judge, ran down the list of events for the evening, handed out our voting packets, and then begin to detail the escape plan once the pageant wrapped up. Seeing our raised eyebrows, she quickly explained that we “have nothing to worry about. Altercations rarely occur, but there have been some pissed off daddies in the past. We just feel it’s better to take the proper precautions.” The only words going through my head at this time were “What the hell!?”
The first portion of the event were pre-interviews with the Miss Mulberry candidates. All the candidates were high school girls and the prize was a $500 scholarship. The interview portion of the contest was worth the most points. The hope was to properly reward the girl with the best skills for the real world and not rely solely on beauty (the irony of this will unfold shortly). During the interviews we asked largely innocuous questions like “did you enjoy the Twilight book or movie more?” and “If you could have a super power, what would it be?” I was surprised at the amount of faith espoused by the candidates. I shouldn’t have been since I grew up around here, but I was inexplicably so (that reaction is probably a comment on me/my own faith than anything else).
While the interview session was a varied experience, the actual pageant was fairly run of the mill. There was a parade of candidates in a range of categories (Elementary, Intermediate, Junior High, and Miss Mulberry), an array of entertainment diversions by likes of the Mulberry Trio and a middle aged female emcee, and of course the announcing of the winners. I crushed the dreams of kids. I was the swing vote. My two fellow judges were both female and too nice. They liked everyone so all of the kids were clustered close together in every category. I guess you could say I actually judged. You could say I was cruel to give an 8 year old low scores. I say I was honest. I also say that as a parent you have to know that your kid losing is a distinct reality, one you needed to be prepared for…and something the kid will eventually be forced to learn. It’s better to get that lesson out of the way now, right? (I’m seriously looking for some back up here. It will make me feel better about myself….I’ll let the humor sink in)
The funniest (saddest?) portion of this whole experience was the dream of cosmetology school. If I was to throw a guess out, I would venture around 80% of the girls involved in the pageant expressed a desire to attend cosmetology school. Obviously this is a beauty pageant so perhaps it isn’t so odd. However, since the expressed goal of the Miss Mulberry pageant was to reward someone with intelligence and goals, someone aspiring to attend college, I found it to be quite odd. Especially when I heard the emcee say, “…and Kendra hopes to attend college one day to study cosmetology.” Perhaps the definition of college is loosening. Perhaps this is just another example of the pervading nature that modern media has over young girls life, especially in rural America. While rapping or basketball is linked in urban areas a ticket to escape, beauty or acquiring the tools to create beauty is seen as the ticket off the farm or out of the double wide and into a better life. The tragedy is they are usually both mirages…nothing more than half-formed images of something better than the place they grew up.
I want to think I might have changed some lives for the better by participating as a judge in this pageant. I didn’t have much time to think about anything though. As proud parents were snapping pictures of the their winners and others were consoling their kids, we were being ushered through a sea of camo towards the exit.
Oh, what a beautiful thing
My Saturday evening was spent in the town of Mulberry, Arkansas. I’m not sure what images might pop into your head when you read those words, “Mulberry, Arkansas.” Given the experiences I’ve encountered first hand, I could probably venture a few guesses at what might run through your head. However, to prevent any such assumptions, I’ll just go ahead and give a small run down.
First, I’ll go ahead and underline the obvious: it’s a small town. The population is listed at 1,627. As for the demographics, the town population is almost entirely white (almost 97%). As for the location, the town itself is nestled between the Ozark Mountains and the Arkansas River Valley in the southeastern reaches of Crawford County (about an 45minutes from the border with Oklahoma). Though the closer one gets to the “Fort Smith metro area” to the west the more diverse the population, this area of the state is by and large similar to Mulberry—a land of farms, blue collar jobs, church lovers, and television viewers.
A pageant drew me out of my cocoon and led me east to Mulberry. For some particular reason I was asked by a friend to help judge the Miss Mulberry 2009 beauty pageant (while many might not appreciate the various jokes I heard from acquaintances given their colloquial nature, rest assured they were all off-color and slightly disparaging). Since my life is a never ending quest for new experiences, I agreed (also taken in consideration was the fact that I had nothing else going on that evening).
I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I hadn’t really put much thought into the event prior to Saturday so I found myself staring at my closet fretting over what I should wear. As I stood there pondering my sartorial selection, it occurred to me that I was going to a beauty in Mulberry freaking Arkansas and it didn’t matter what I wore. So I went with what I had on: a pink polo shirt, khaki slacks, some green shoes, and a (slightly trimmed) mohawk.
Arriving at the pageant with my fellow judges a little late, we were ushered into the principal’s office at the high school to begin a debriefing of sorts. The principal, herself a veteran pageant judge, ran down the list of events for the evening, handed out our voting packets, and then begin to detail the escape plan once the pageant wrapped up. Seeing our raised eyebrows, she quickly explained that we “have nothing to worry about. Altercations rarely occur, but there have been some pissed off daddies in the past. We just feel it’s better to take the proper precautions.” The only words going through my head at this time were “What the hell!?”
The first portion of the event were pre-interviews with the Miss Mulberry candidates. All the candidates were high school girls and the prize was a $500 scholarship. The interview portion of the contest was worth the most points. The hope was to properly reward the girl with the best skills for the real world and not rely solely on beauty (the irony of this will unfold shortly). During the interviews we asked largely innocuous questions like “did you enjoy the Twilight book or movie more?” and “If you could have a super power, what would it be?” I was surprised at the amount of faith espoused by the candidates. I shouldn’t have been since I grew up around here, but I was inexplicably so (that reaction is probably a comment on me/my own faith than anything else).
While the interview session was a varied experience, the actual pageant was fairly run of the mill. There was a parade of candidates in a range of categories (Elementary, Intermediate, Junior High, and Miss Mulberry), an array of entertainment diversions by likes of the Mulberry Trio and a middle aged female emcee, and of course the announcing of the winners. I crushed the dreams of kids. I was the swing vote. My two fellow judges were both female and too nice. They liked everyone so all of the kids were clustered close together in every category. I guess you could say I actually judged. You could say I was cruel to give an 8 year old low scores. I say I was honest. I also say that as a parent you have to know that your kid losing is a distinct reality, one you needed to be prepared for…and something the kid will eventually be forced to learn. It’s better to get that lesson out of the way now, right? (I’m seriously looking for some back up here. It will make me feel better about myself….I’ll let the humor sink in)
The funniest (saddest?) portion of this whole experience was the dream of cosmetology school. If I was to throw a guess out, I would venture around 80% of the girls involved in the pageant expressed a desire to attend cosmetology school. Obviously this is a beauty pageant so perhaps it isn’t so odd. However, since the expressed goal of the Miss Mulberry pageant was to reward someone with intelligence and goals, someone aspiring to attend college, I found it to be quite odd. Especially when I heard the emcee say, “…and Kendra hopes to attend college one day to study cosmetology.” Perhaps the definition of college is loosening. Perhaps this is just another example of the pervading nature that modern media has over young girls life, especially in rural America. While rapping or basketball is linked in urban areas a ticket to escape, beauty or acquiring the tools to create beauty is seen as the ticket off the farm or out of the double wide and into a better life. The tragedy is they are usually both mirages…nothing more than half-formed images of something better than the place they grew up.
I want to think I might have changed some lives for the better by participating as a judge in this pageant. I didn’t have much time to think about anything though. As proud parents were snapping pictures of the their winners and others were consoling their kids, we were being ushered through a sea of camo towards the exit.