beauty pagent

Muscogee Daughter: My Sojourn to the Miss America Pageant

tina — Sat, 30 Oct 2010 00:00:00 +0000

On the surface, Susan Supernaw’s memoir Muscogee Daughter: My Sojourn to the Miss America Pageant is a story about an unlikely Miss Oklahoma winner and her trip to the 1971 Miss America pageant. The true story, however, is Supernaw’s struggle to escape a childhood marred by extreme poverty and violence and earn the Native American name revealed to her during a near death experience.

While reading the memoir, it was hard to keep in mind that Muscogee Daughter wasn’t a work of fiction. Supernaw’s struggles haunted me long after I finished reading the book, especially the image of her dying grandmother sharing a bed with Supernaw as an ill and abandoned infant.

Supernaw was the fourth daughter in a poor family and her birth was a major disappointment to her father. When she was just a baby her parents left her in the care of her elderly grandparents on a farm in rural Oklahoma so that her father could go back to college. It’s never made clear why her parents took the older girls and left their newborn, but whatever the reason it was ill conceived. By the time she was six months old, Supernaw’s grandmother had died and her mother returned to collect her.

Months of being confined to her grandmother’s bed and being fed cow’s milk and coffee by her inexperienced grandfather landed her in the hospital for many weeks. That would be the first of a handful of close calls in Supernaw’s life and each time she believed she was about to die, a beautiful woman appeared to comfort her. Supernaw believed she was a manifestation of the Corn Mother.

The second time the woman appeared she brought a small dancing bear, a personification of Supernaw’s Native American name. A community elder came to Supernaw’s bed side and advised her to follow her destined path in order to earn the right to her name and earning that name became her primary goal. Paralyzed after a horse riding accident, Supernaw fought to walk again and eventually, she became an athletic high school cheerleader, a Presidential scholar, an accidental beauty queen, and a unifying figure for the eastern and western tribes of Oklahoma.

Supernaw memoir reveals many painful and personal details about her life. We learn of the abusive father who left the family bereft and who was replaced by an even more tyrannical and dangerous step-father, though initially the four girls were happy to have him provide more than the ketchup sandwiches they had been accustomed to eating for dinner.

Supernaw seems to understand that her family’s story is representative of a piece of American history—one that is too often untold; however, it feels like too much was left unsaid. Though she was an anthropology major concerned with human rights, her attitude towards the Civil Rights Act of 1964 is puzzling. Supernaw says that it gave her white boyfriend “an unfair disadvantage and made me feel like I’d been given an unfair advantage.” In later pages she reveals that she “felt a lot of confusion over minority preference,” yet she also felt the sting of racism from her boyfriend who believed her Presidential award was the result of her being a minority. There were was also the cheerleaders’ parents who did not allow her in their homes; the Miss America pageant that treated her like an oddity; and the media that used offensive stereotypes to describe her.

Muscogee Daughter was both fascinating and frustrating. As a reader I wanted to know more about her family and her experience as a woman of color living between white and Native worlds. The importance of earning her Native American name is clear, but the significance of the milestone is not. Nevertheless, Susan Supernaw’s memoir is essential in the narrative of American history.

Written by: Stephanie Sylverne, October 29th 2010

High Glitz: The Extravagant World of Child Beauty Pageants

admin — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 16:54:00 +0000

By Susan Anderson

powerHouse Books

Style writer Simon Doonan’s foreword starts out High Glitz: The Extravagant World of Child Pageants. Doonan feels that beauty pageants geared for children are no more exploitative or harmful than cheerleading or little league. He writes that children learn endurance, losing gracefully, and social skills. It also gives them exercise and breaks from the tedium of childhood.

However, early on Doonan mentions he has never actually experienced the pageant world. Even if he had, undoubtedly child beauty pageants are a different experience for female children then for adult males. While Doonan paints an envious picture of pageant life from an outsider’s point of view, he still admits he can’t see contestants going on to the fame and glory for which their mothers aspire.

Interestingly enough, in his introduction for High Glitz, Robert Greene, another admitted outsider to the pageant world, chose to mention long suspected pedophile Lewis Carroll. Greene never mentions any outright connections to his, but instead he mentions Carroll because of his "appreciation" of young girls, and his observations of how they liked to dress up and be photographed. Greene’s point appears to be that pageants are healthy for little girls because dressing up gives them a sense of personal power and is an adequate form of play. Personally, I’ve seen too many cranky kids on episodes of Toddlers and Tiaras _and _Little Miss Perfect to believe Greene’s point, but he presents it in such a clear straightforward way, it very well could be believable.

Finally, we get to Susan Anderson’s book. Anderson, unlike Doonan and Greene, is very involved in the pageant world, as she has been photographing contestants for three years. Anderson writes in a journalistic style that gives the reader an inside look at this strange pocket of our culture, but unfortunately we don’t get to see very much. Anderson doesn’t write a lot, and instead, lets her photographs speak for her.

The photos are all of girls between the ages of a few months to thirteen years; all look more glamorous, more grown up, and more downright sexy than I did at my senior prom. Some of these girls still look precious, like elaborate child Madame Alexandra dolls, while some of them look eerie, like ageless collectible figurines symbolizing "true" beauty; all of the girls have a look of no longer being completely human. I also can’t help but notice how few children of color are featured.

The images are frightening: girls as young as three are making attempts at showing cleavage, endlessly exposing midriffs, and squeezing into super short skirts. What skeeves me out the most are the images of young girls holding stuffed animals, as their fancy dresses ride up around their waists. Many of these girls do look happy, but from watching many specials on this subject, I know many of these mothers pay money for coaching. I would have preferred to see quotes from the girls themselves about what they think of their clothes and situations, how they feel being dressed in ways, even as a teenager, I would never have been able to leave the house in. This coffee table book, unfortunately, does not shed much light on the pageant world for the genuinely curious.

Written by: Jen Klee, September 29th 2009

La Corona

admin — Wed, 25 Mar 2009 10:52:00 +0000

Directed by Amanda Micheliand Isabel Vega

Cinema Guild

La Corona, which translates to "the crown," is a short documentary centering around a beauty pageant which takes place every year in the largest female prison in Colombia. One of the judges jokes early on that Colombia has a pageant for everything, except cocaine. The prison warden, when interviewed, says that she doesn't like the pageant very much, but it is the only time of the year that there is some peace and quiet around the prison because all of the girls look forward to it so much and want to participate.

Girls are nominated from each of the four cell blocks to represent their block in the beauty pageant. The first contestant we are introduced to is Maira Alejandro, a girl about five foot four inches in stature who was put in jail for murder. She explains in an interview that she has killed many times, which is unbelievable taking into account her size. The second contestant, Viviane Busto, was convicted of guerrilla activity. She laments her time in prison, because she has a son who she would like to eventually reunite with and teach him everything she knows. Angela Valoyes, convicted of robbery and assault, is a lesbian whose eyes sparkle as she describes passages from the Bible "that God told us to love, but he did not tell us who specifically to love." The newest convict, Angie Jimenez, has only been in jail for eighteen days. She hasn't gotten used to life in jail, especially since she also has a son on the outside.

Each of the girls chosen to compete must be prepared at all times. Meaning, they must be wearing high heels and full makeup. They also have to attend dancing and runway walking classes, like a real beauty pageant. In participating in the pageant, they become minor celebrities among the inmates. Hand-washed laundry hangs from every steel bar that covers the windows in the jail, but for the competition, the women are given designer dresses.

It seems absurd that women would have to conform to gender standards in something like a beauty pageant while they are in prison, and toward the end of the documentary you wonder who the pageant is really for: the women inside, or the great hordes of reporters who cover the pageant?

The competition only takes up about ten minutes of the documentary. The girls dance and sing with traditional Colombian songs, and there is even a swimsuit competition. When the winner is finally announced (I won't ruin it for you), she gets a full spread in the newspaper. By the end of the film, girls in other blocks complain that the competition was rigged or blame racism for why their contestant didn't win. Things go back to normal for the most part, until one of the prisoners is released. The ending is abrupt and leans hard on the idea that the pageant, while entertaining, doesn't teach the girls how to change and adapt for the better. But, as Vivianne Busto tearfully explains, "It gives us something to look forward to."

Written by: Chrissie Thornburg, March 25th 2009