Damn HJR2 and Damn My Scruples!

I’ll Never Be Mrs. Idaho America

By Joan Opyr, 9-28-06

As if there weren't enough going on in the world to gag a dog off a gut wagon . . .

A few days ago, I received an invitation from Amanda Feely (call her Mandi!) to enter the Mrs. Idaho America beauty pageant. The rules are simple: fill out and sign the application form, send them a photograph and fifty bucks, and find myself a couple of suckers . . . I mean sponsors. Then, I might, just might, qualify as an entrant. What's the hold up? Well first, although I've been happily married for 14 years, I am not legally married. Under current Idaho law, same-sex couples cannot wed. Second, entrants are required to have been born female. As far as I know, I was born female, but without a genetic test, who can say? Not you, not me, and not the damned fools running this beauty contest.

I wonder: does the female-born-female requirement mean that the intersexed cannot enter? What about XY women? Or XX men? There are XX women and XX men. There are XXX and XXY women. There are enough combinations of X and Y to keep the genetically paranoid busy for weeks. Is Mrs. Idaho America prepared to check DNA at the door? A quick cheek swab and then on to Mrs. Congeniality? Or do we all lift our skirts and hope for the best?

These, according to the brochure, are the putative areas of competition:

Judges Interview: 50%

A panel comprised of God-knows-who will "critique each delegate's ability to communicate, her personality, self-expression, her achievements and her beauty." Wow. Doesn't that sound fun? I wonder if the judges understand the physical language of Tae Kwon Do? Or a Taser? What could be more beautiful, more communicative, more expressively redolent of personality and feminine (feminist) achievement than a good ass-kicking from Aeon Flux? I don't mean to spoil the movie for anyone, but in the end, we learn that Aeon is married. We also learn that she's cloned. Perhaps that's a disqualification.

Evening Gown Competition: 25%

This is true freedom: you get to pick your own dress. In the evenings, I like to wear a pair of bright orange sweatpants and a T-shirt that says The Only Bush I Trust Is My Own. Gentlemen, I'm ready for my close-up!

Physical Fitness and Health: 25%

How do the judges determine this? A treadmill test? A quick jerk and snap? As this is Mrs. Idaho America, how about hefting a baby in one arm and a sack of potatoes in the other? No? Oh. It's a swimsuit competition. Bummer.

Finally, there's a "State Costume Competition," the outcome of which does not effect who wins or loses the pageant. In which case, why bother? I can only guess at what a state costume might be -- a costume that represents Idaho? Do you want to be Lewis or Clark? Or perhaps a tap-dancing baked spud? Our new state quarter features a Peregrine Falcon. Anyone got a bird suit? If not, we might borrow that outfit worn by the mascot of the University of South Carolina's Fighting Gamecocks. USC's unofficial motto, printed on God-fearing Baptist bumperstickers across the state? Nobody can lick our 'Cocks! Judges, this, to me, is exemplary of that winning Mrs. Idaho America spirit. It's communicative, it's expressive, and it sure as hell has got personality.

Too bad I can't enter. Too bad some of the most beautiful women I've ever known -- drag queens, transsexuals, and women with a measurable IQ -- can't enter, either. Somehow, I think we just might represent the State of Idaho with more grace and aplomb than Mandi Feely and the Mrs. Idaho America organizers could ever hope to muster. And, what's more, we could do it without the $500 Sponsor Fee and mandatory $200 Ad Page. Imagine that.

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