BY COLLIN DYSART, Copy Editor

Pageant season is upon us. It’s time for the gowns, Colgate-approved smiles, absurd and demanding questions and tears. So many tears!

I love beauty pageants, but I know I shouldn’t for so many blatant reasons. It’s objectifying, demeaning and so forth. But, I argue, if it were not for the great institution of scholarship programs we would never have such prize lines as, “April 25th is my idea of a perfect date. It’s not too hot not too cold. All you need is a light jacket.” This was an authentic response in a real pageant before it was popularized in the indefatigable Sandra Bullock film “Miss Congeniality.”

Friday Jan. 25 marked the occasion of a new Rodeo Royal Court coronation for the Ellensburg Rodeo and Fair. And this ain’t no cake walk. She must be single with no impending marital obligations. She must never ‘fraternize’ with men in uniform. She must not indulge in any intoxicating liquors and/or substances. The Royal Court Director oversees all her social media activity. Most stunning of all, court duties must come before school, work, etc. Before! And you have to bring the horse. Royalty is not for amateurs.

Pageants are important, as they reflect what society views as permissible and desirable in women.

In 1948, a pageant and sponsor contract explicitly stated the victor must be of white race and in good health. Only four years prior did the pageant alter the prize from movie contracts and furs to scholarship funds.

So what makes a pageant so enticing to this day when women have vastly more avenues in which to finance their educations? I think it’s a thirst for blood.

Behind the veneer of too many rhinestones, the seemingly obligatory canary-yellow dresses, and ozone-depleting Aqua Net, is the ultimate no punches pulled, fight to the death. It’s waiting for the other contestant to fall (literally and figuratively) on her face and the hope to walk away the winner amidst a sea of vanquished competitors. She is not here for world peace; she’s here to knock you off the top.

It is easy to dismiss the out of hand painted-on smiles which conceal cold determinism on the part of contestants, coaches and the frightening, maddening figure known as the stage mom.  And speaking of, anyone who has ever done any art-related extra-curricular activity before the age of 18, has been faced with this figure: The stage parent who waits outside the audition doors, whose services are always on call to assist the director, and whose baked goods you check for signs of tampering. We all know one and are maybe in therapy because we came into one’s line of fire.

So, really, if you are looking for a gladiatorial-esque sport, I recommend pageants. It’s winner takes all, and you can say you were royalty. At least kind of. A little fainting spell from hair spray fumes or a locked jaw is worth it. They give you a crown. Or if nothing else, to quote another great-but-criminally-under-seen film, “Drop Dead Gorgeous,” “Why? Well, ah, it’s kind of like askin’ why all the guys chew Copenhagen, you know? I mean, if you’re 17, and you’re not a total fry, it’s just what you do.” Long live the queen!