Today, in the space of about 30 seconds, I went from pride in my hometown to chagrin. This morning, as I lie in bed, willing myself to roll out, I saw the promo for the Race for the Cure, in which one of my colleagues appears. We quickly "rewound" the ad to see her again. I felt all warm and fuzzy, remembering all the years we've participated. It's a big to-do in Waco, and we've participated every year, either walking the 1 mile or running the 5K. Rain or shine, with little kids or without, we were there, enjoying the carnival atmosphere, collecting the freebies, honoring breast cancer survivors, and supporting a good cause.
As I basked in the glow of warm memories, the commercial for Waco Cotton Palace ran--that annual "celebration" where we relive the charm and pageantry of the antebellum South. I've never succeeded in explaining Cotton Palace to one who hasn't experienced it, probably because I'm biased and bothered about the whole thing. It's so wrong in so many ways, let me count those ways. The King of Cotton, an old and accomplished businessman, and the Queen, a young, fresh-faced high school senior. That's bad enough, but consider how one becomes Queen. She isn't chosen because of her academic accomplishments, her good deeds, or even her beauty. Rather, she must be a member of one of the old, very wealthy Waco families. That's it. She's won the birth lottery. At least I think that's how it works. It's steeped in great mystery, and not accessible to a mere commoner like me. Then there are the princesses (Waco girls) and the duchesses (outsiders). They too are not necessarily accomplished--trust me, I know. Connections, however, matter.
The truth is, the royal motif is annoying, but most colleges and high schools select a Homecoming King and Queen, and I don't lose a wink of sleep about it. Rather, it's the fact that Cotton Palace is exclusive in particularly repugnant ways. Blacks and Latinos (and probably Jews) need not apply.
But wait, there's more. The pageant and the show, a reliving of the history, the happy history, when cotton was king, some people attended lovely balls and sipped mint juleps, while others literally slaved away, denied the fruits of their labor. Slavery is a historical fact, but not one I believe worthy of a celebration.
I'm an outsider, so maybe that's why I don't get it. But it's not worth it to me to try to understand. Every year, other outsiders will attend Cotton Palace for the first time and some will be offended. I've done my best to warn them.
Friday, April 8, 2011
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