I’ve been looking at the calendar of events this month and pondering tomorrows contest:
Wednesday April 15
Event: Styling White Trash Theme
I was pretty offended by the theme but didn’t know, really, how to deal with it.
Obviously it’s a joke, right? Tax day? Everybody’s broke from paying the gubbermint?
So we have barefoot and pregnant, drugged and dirty, poor and uneducated women (and presumably male counterparts) parading on stage on tax day in what? Celebration? Derision?
Yea, I saw the posts about the April Fool’s Day prank with the new Trashionista designs.
Ok, no. Not hilarious. As an April Fool’s prank, it was a cheap shot at an easy target, but maybe it was appreciated more by those who attended than by those who only read about it after the fact. It’s April Fools and I’m willing to accept that the poke was at the elitist attitude that some of the SL fashionistas exhibit.
But this is not.
This “White Trash” label is thrown around a lot and nobody seems to take it seriously. Of course, it’s always applied to them so it’s ok, right? They’re poor, uneducated, dirty. They brought it on themselves, right? I mean anybody can have a decent standard of living if they’d just work at it a little, right? Rural poverty isn’t really an issue. Beer and fish are plentiful year round and if women get beat up or knocked up, well, that’s ok, right?
Because that’s what we’re saying here. That’s what we’re laughing at when we put on a “White Trash Theme.” We’re laughing at lives of not so quiet desperation. We’re laughing at battered women, sick kids, and broken men. We’re snickering at addiction, at disease, and at all the people who want to do better but because of circumstance so totally beyond their control they’re barely able to stay drugged into insensibility.
And then there’s the people who just don’t have enough money to live in the nice houses. Single women working as many jobs as they can to try to stay ahead of the bills and mostly not succeeding. They can only afford the trailer park by the creek. Their kids are kept awake at night by the woman screaming next door or the fist fight across the court. They try to keep their kids clean and healthy and fed and out of harm’s way, but because they live where they do, they’re painted with the same brush — White Trash.
I participate in these contests in order to gain experience. To practice my stage craft. To work out the details of look and movement. Usually they’re pretty arbitrary. More often than not, I find them offensive and appealing to the prurient, but typically the only people being humiliated are the models. It’s part of the game. I understand that. Boss says “Wear this!” You wear it.
But there’s a line. This crosses it.
I won’t go there.
I don’t need two votes that badly.
Sometimes, the only valid answer is, “No.”