. . . « . . . ‘ . . . . . » . \ . . . . . . . . \ . . t . « - \ s \ \ . » \ . "*“““‘*\.*\g . ~ . . . . . . . » ; ~ n . » \ . ~ l ‘ r » . _ - . . \ a \ w « «. \ . . t . \ . . i A . . I . . . Feinist Kichen ink: Radical cheerleading ne of my clearest Christmas memories is the year I got the Dallas Cowgirl outfit: blue and silver pom- poms, a white miniskirt with blue and silver piping, and a white cow- boy hat with blue trim. I was five, I think, and knew what I wanted to be when I grew up: either a movie star or a Dallas Cowgirl. Since I didn’t understand football at all i (and still don’t), my cheering pro- clivities didn’t come from actually watching the Cowgirls, but the pret- ty outfits and social status were enough to cement in my mind what [wanted to do. My mom taught me cheers fiom her high school (“Time for a Touchdown,” for instance), andl really liked jumping up and down and yelling. I was ready! In eighth grade my friend Sheila Perhus and I would practice on the bus, but when I entered high With radical cheerleading, being fat and dorky just makes the whole thing sexier, for both spectator and cheerleader. school, something shifted. It wasn’t just that I was too fat and uncoordi- nated to make it on the team, but an unspoken rift had opened between my Cure—listening, Dungeons & Dragons-playing, dorked-out friends and the glossy-haired Skipperettes (the dance squad at my high school). Although I still longed for the approval of those popular kids in a corner of my heart, I had made a kind of political decision, based on both ability and belief, not to go the traditional girl-route. I could never get my bangs to stand up the Way flieirs did even when I tried, but I soon became unwilling to try at all. But the thing is, I still really like to jump up and down and Yell. I don’t like playing sports, but I like competition a lot, and those pleated cheerleading skirts are freaking nice. In college, I recon- nected to my desire to “support the team” through campus activism, especially leading marches and ral- lies at Middlebury. Ultimately, it wasn’t that different from what had appealed to me about cheerleading from the beginning — I was still get- ting to yell a lot, lead call-and- response exchanges, and be the cen- ter of attention, but now it was for things I actually cared about. The first time I saw any radical cheerleaders was at a Youth Pride rally in Montpelier in about 2000. Three women from Bread and Puppet had on matching red and black outfits. They were without a doubt the coolest girls at the parade — but not in the mean, exclusive way that the cheerleaders in high school were cool. These were the girls on the quiz bowl team with me, with whom I skipped the prom to do graffiti, and on whom I nursed awkward, inarticulate crushes. Their cheers were about flicking off diet- ing and resisting global capitalism. I had that same desire for emulation that I’d felt for the Dallas Cowgirls, but it felt more meaningful and less creepy. When I first became a feminist, so many of the actions I took were in direct reaction against the things that had driven me crazy in high school -— I stopped wearing uncomfortable clothes, stopped spending thirty minutes putting on makeup in the morning, started eat- ing whatever I wanted. I stopped constructing myself so I could get the boyfriend I thought my parents wanted me to have. But with that transformation came this terrible loathing of the person I had been before. I just felt like I had been such a dupe, wanting these things that were so stupid, like being a cheerleader or having a popular boyfriend. I wanted to move for- ward, leaving my former self behind me as a husk to dry in the sun. With radical cheerleading, though, I can take this thing I want- ed as a kid and change it so that it actually is what I always wanted. Nobody is too fat or dorky to cheer, and being fat and dorky just makes the whole thing sexier, for both spectator and cheerleader. Although there are aspects of cheering that are (gloriously) like the movie Bring It On, we never suffer any drama over stealing cheers or any- thing like that — squads from all over the country post cheers they write on a web site for anyone to access and borrow, and our squad (the Burlington radical cheerlead- ers) writes all our cheers collabora- tively. ‘ In my day-to-day life, I sometimes feel conflicted about whether I am really “reclaiming” things like skirts and makeup or if I’m just bullshitting myself into finding new and exciting ways to participate in my own oppression. Marching in the Pride parade this year with my homemade pleated mini and garbage-bag pompoms, however, felt like freedom. No no- neck boys to cheer, just my own community of weirdos. Yay! V Anne Moore lives in Burlington with her cat and her morbid Birfljv the Vampire Slayer obsession. F0 RM T ITE ‘ Burlington: 361 Pearl Street Mondays 4- 7 PM St. johnsbury: 1235 Hospital Drive Wednesday 3-6 PM Rutland: 27 South Main Street Wednesday 10 AM-I PM Montpelier: 73 Main Street, Suite 401 July 2 and 16 2-5 PM NO APPOINTMENT NECESSARY 800-649-2437 Co»/e.y iv‘ J4-an. FROM THE CONNECTICUT RIVER TO ma CANADIAN BORDER REAL ESTATE AND INSURANCE 179 Main Street * Derby Vermont 05829 phone (802) 766-2401 * 800-243-2401 fax 766-4731 * e-mail-trtic1i{@r"e'alje'§tateve1jrnpont.¢om Log onto I \\'V\' V\'.l'L"rl CS 11 CVL‘.l‘llI()n .C()lI] ‘ii 90 Main Street . P.0. Box 375 BLACKWOOD B“”'"9‘ggv2‘_g639g‘;S§ 8: DANON, PC fax: 802-863-0262 --— attorneys info I kw w. 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