We all gathered into our gymnasium at the junior high for an assembly. All of my fellow students and I walked up the bleachers to sit with our classes. There was a loud buzz echoing off the high ceilings. Students yelled across the gym to their friends and the teachers tried futilely to calm everyone down. Excitement at the opportunity to miss class filled the air and it was reflected by the level of noise. Only until the principal spoke did it begin to quiet down.
The principal introduced our speaker, the reason for the assembly, as Miss Michigan. The tall, pretty blond woman won the Jackson County Rose Festival Pageant and represented Jackson County, and subsequently won, at the state pageant. She was scheduled to go on to national pageant to represent Michigan later that year. Since she was from Jackson County, the allegedly most-beautiful woman in the state was speaking at all schools and mine was one of them.
I don't remember anything she really said that was of any real importance. It probably had something to do with not doing drugs, not smoking, not drinking, and not having sex. We were in junior high so I guess this was appropriate since in the upcoming months these vices would be presented to us. Her speech was probably lined with subtext that told us that only pretty people win and that while we need ugly people to work in factories, the beautiful were far more superior. I probably don't remember her soliloquy because none of it was new. I had no intention to drink, smoke or do drugs and I certain knew that based on my appearance I wouldn't be sleeping with anyone soon, message conveyed effectively.
After the unmemorable speech had concluded, Miss Michigan welcomed questions from our fellow students. I asked her if she knew Gwen Hermes. "That cute little cop from Beulah, sure I know her, she's great," she replied, feigning friendship with her.
Gwen Hermes is my cousin. She was very pretty herself, but her beauty was not conventional. Perhaps, that's why I always respected her. I knew that she was trying to tear down the beautocracy from within. I would be surprised if she was over five feet tall. She had brown hair that was cropped shorter than any of the other contestants. Gwen represented Manistee county in northern Michigan, where she lived. She did work for the sheriff department as her day job, which I'm sure was an under-represented job in pagaent circuit. We saw her lose to the representative from Jackson County at the state competition, but we were proud that she was one of the 83 most beautiful people in Michigan. Guiltily, I had to wonder how she won the contest up north, since she was not the most traditional candidate. It still made her victory even that much sweeter.
Miss Michigan explained how she knew my cousin and how she liked her, when someone up in the bleachers yelled, "faggot". I didn't hear anything but her speaking, but Miss Michigan did. She launched into a lecture about how that type of name-calling was not appropriate and that word was especially vulgar to call someone. The gym was suddenly quieter than it had ever been with the exception of our speaker's powerful voice. Miss Michigan actually stuck up for me in the middle of an assembly with around 300 people. I didn't really care because I didn't even hear the remark. I probably wouldn't have cared if I did hear, since being called a faggot was an everyday occurrence for me.
I did care though that Miss Michigan stuck up for me. She could have ignored it. She could have just let it go with the blink of an eye. Instead, she taught a lesson in tolerance and humanity to a group of kids. I knew at that moment that she did not win the Miss Michigan pageant for her beauty alone. She won the title out of her compassion and eloquence and grace, traits that appear to be lost in modern society.
After the assembly, I heard that it was Brian or Gary that yelled it. Brian came up in class and said that it wasn't he; Gary was spreading the rumor. Gary has said it before and I'm sure has said it since. I knew that I couldn't ever know who said it. Someone yelled it because he was jealous. I may not be the prettiest or the coolest but I could crush him with the power of my mind. It was little comfort at the time, but I knew he hated me because I was pieces of him. As for me, I didn't have the grace and charm of Miss Michigan. I wished that the person who called me a faggot burned in hell.
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