Big Time Crush

I have a crush.  It’s on Big Time Rush.  Don’t tell anyone.  I want to keep it hush-hush.

Because who am I, a 41 year old woman, to have a crush on a boy band half my age?!  And they’re not even that cute.  And they don’t sing that great.  And they really can’t dance.  So why do I honestly have a crush on Kendall, James, Carlos and Logan?  I can’t explain it, but I can’t deny it, either.

When my children scan the “Guide,” and decide on a Nickelodeon program, I usually tune out.  (I don’t know why they even check the Guide because they always land on Nickelodeon.  No Disney.  No PBS.  Certainly no Discovery Kids Channel.  Nickelodeon.) I tune out if it’s SpongeBob SquarePants.  Not because I don’t like SpongeBob, because I do.  I actually think “he” and the show are pretty funny at times.  But I also feel like I’ve seen most of the episodes.  Unless it’s one of my favorites, it no longer holds my attention.

The same holds true for iCarly.  I used to really like iCarly until they aired the “iLook-a-Like” episode and I found their behavior so absolutely atrocious that we almost didn’t finish watching it.  If I had been a better, stronger parent, I would have turned it off mid-episode, but I kept hoping that it would get better and they would redeem themselves.  It didn’t and they didn’t, either.  By then it was 8:29PM and we had suffered through an episode littered with bad decisions, dishonesty, and disrespect.  Ever since then I have watched Carly, Sam and Freddie with a great degree of trepidation and lasting dislike.  (I’m purposely avoiding the discussion about whether my children should have been watching iCarly to begin with.)  iCarly has been on long enough that my children feel like they are peers with the cast as opposed to being on the younger side of the same generation.  Therefore the show holds a stage that appears to be a pedestal for their characters – not one they can be knocked off of, but one that children aspire to be on.  As the characters have gotten older I have found that they are better behaved and I can once again stomach them.  But now I am a “good” parent and watch all new episodes before letting my girls watch.

Victorious falls somewhere in the middle.  I don’t hate it, but I don’t love it, either.  Most of the characters are decent people and the one or two that behave selfishly or immaturely do so with such aplomb that it showcases the glaring discord with the other characters.  You can’t help but look at them and know that their behavior is wrong.  “Tori” is the lovable character that usually does the right thing.  Her singing, long hair and down-to-earth personality give her a starlet-esque presence that is still within the reach of most girls.  She could be the teenage girl next door that every little girl wants to be.

And then there’s Big Time Rush.  BTR.  The dogs.  A boy band in a time when I can’t name any other boy bands.  Jake has asked me if the show was supposed to introduce the group to the world, or whether the music is actually a marketing by-product of the show.  I’m still trying to figure that out.  But there’s no doubt that the popularity of the group as a music sensation does not rival that of boy bands of the past.  They may be the newest edition of young males on the scene, but their lyrics are not as contagious as New Edition’s were.  We might find ourselves saying, “Uh-uh-u-oh-oh!” to the newest kids on the block, because their dance moves are not as well choreographed as NKOTB’s.  It is also doubtful we will watch them grow from boys to men as they are already clearly young men and do not harmonize like Boys II Men.    I was never really an ‘N Sync fan so I can’t make any comparisons there.  And they certainly will never hold a candle to the greatest boy band of all time:  The Jackson Five.  I still know that “I’ll Be There” to learn my “ABC”s.

Along with my children I find myself singing BTR's tunes and watching snippets of their videos in between our Nickelodeon programming.  Their songs have each had their fifteen minutes of fame in my house with at least one of my children singing in the shower or while they danced across the family room floor.  I tend to have my karaoke moments in front of the kitchen sink while doing dishes.  Clearly “Boyfriend” is the catchiest tune to date that the boys have crooned through the tube.  I do find myself wondering if the addition of Snoop Dog to the video, and his conspicuous credit-grabbing, were supposed to be musical support, a popularity-legitimizing stunt, or both for the group.  Knowing what I know about Snoop Dog I find his presence more a self-redeeming act than an image-boosting opportunity for the boys.  Either way, “Boyfriend” will be my next search on iTunes. 

Although no one has ever quite duplicated the magic of the “Dancing Machine” that Michael Jackson made famous, there is no denying the effort made by boy bands to get you to “Shake Your Body (Down to the Ground)” along with them.  Justin Timberlake, formerly of ‘N Sync, credits Michael Jackson for inspiring many of his moves and performances.  BTR is not as fluid or smooth in their execution, but here at 5 Harding Lane we try to follow along.  We try to spin and touch the ground and alternate sliding forward and back on the carpet.  Even without soul they encourage us to mimic their rhythm.

Despite all that they don’t have, BTR has something that brings me back to each episode.  They have something that I can’t quite put my finger on.  Like iCarly and Victorious the characters are often selfish and self-absorbed, but there’s a lovable notion to these slightly dim-witted, narcissistic Minnesota transplants.  Their antics are not about hurting others, but more about self-preservation and discovery.  They are teenage boys in California, trying to find their way as a new pop-music group with all of the chaos, stress, and fun that brings.  Despite the highly illogical and unlikely scenario their “lives” present for the viewers, we want to be a part of it.

There is no denying that Kendall, James, Carlos and Logan have my attention.  I didn’t get into Hannah Montana, nor do I have “Bieber Fever,” but I do have my crush on Big Time Rush.  I am serious when I say that if they came to Boston I would stand in line overnight to get tickets to a show.  I might even buy a few seats for my kids.

Cheerleading Is a Curse to Me Now

I don't have blond hair or an especially perky outlook.  I don't bounce from place to place and I don't cock my head from side to side to enunciate my point.  So it does come as a surprise to most people that I was a cheerleader.  Despite my already sarcastic tone, it is probably a surprise to learn that I loved being a cheerleader.  Cheer leading took all that was "bad" about me and made it good:  a loud voice, an assertive attitude and a hard body.  Characteristics that were shunned elsewhere were praised at cheer leading tryouts.  Cheer leading made me the best of who I was.  Mostly, cheer leading made it OK for me to yell.  And I was the best voice.  I didn't get a sore throat like the other girls, or get exhausted by the end of the cheer from trying to yell my way through it.  My cheers came from the diaphragm.  I was a loud cheerleader.  And I was just plain loud.  I got "Loudest" in the senior class superlatives.

Now I know a lot of parents - Moms - who yell.  None of us are proud of it and all of us try reasoning, requesting - and threatening - in mild, easy, level tones first, before being pushed into yelling our expectations.  So why do I feel so much more the Bad Guy when I yell now?  It's all because of the giant, green megaphone I got senior year of high school at the cheer leading banquet:  The "You Cheer Too Softly" Award.

They were mock awards.

So is it any wonder that 20 years later I am still the loudest?  I can't help it.  It was ingrained in me and I can't raise my voice without digging deep and bringing it up and out from the diaphragm.  If I had been a library aid or a member of the Kiwanis Club, or on the swim team (yeah, right!) my children might have had a chance.  I might not be such a yeller at them.  I would be quieter, more persuasive - or waterlogged to the point of drowning (me, a swimmer?!  Come on!)  But I chose to cheer.  So it's nice to have that settled:  I yell at my kids because I was a great cheerleader.

So why do I cringe when my daughters tell me they want to cheer?

It's not because I am afraid that my daughters will grow up to yell at my grandchildren.  It's not because I am afraid that they will yell at each other, or at me - they already do that.  And it's not because I don't like football or crisp, fall days.  It's because of what people think of cheerleaders.  Regardless of the number of years I spent in a too-short skirt with my hair pulled up in school color-coded ribbons, I find myself siding with the stereotypers.  I forget that I was - and remember only what I presume.  I am one of those people who thinks that cheerleaders are stupid, promiscuous, snotty and self-absorbed.  And I want more for my daughters.

I spent YEARS correcting people from calling it "Queer leading."  (Not that my fellow 'leaders and I didn't reference it that way ourselves, but like ethnicity, weight and hair color, only YOU can use "those" words.)  I argued and reasoned about the time, stamina and skill needed to succeed in our "activity" - and why it should rightfully be considered a SPORT.  I made fun of it, I shied away from it and then I tried out for it.   I was a cheerleader and I was proud of it.  I chose to cheer.

It is a terribly painful (and hypocritical) place to be to know that you LOVED something so much that you not only lived it, you fought for it, but that you can't fight for it now.  Am I so different now as an adult?  As a mother?  As a fellow community member?  I honestly don't believe that I lived for 7 years in denial.  I don't believe that I was just an empty skirt flipping around hoping to get laid.  I was too good to believe that then, or now.  I was smart(ish):  in the top 20% of my class.  I was a virgin.  And I also ran track.  Our squad won trophies.  But no matter how good you are at something, no matter how far you think you elevate an image, there are still people who will work to distort all that you believe in and have fought to change.  And it is because of those people that I can't let my girls put on short skirts and bounce around a football field, trying to kick their now-hairless legs into the air.

Cheer leading is an in-your-face invitation to join in the merriment, without actually being a part of it.  It means sitting on the edge of participation.  It is literally the icing on the cake:  the pretty frosting that presents the "meat" to the waiting and anxious sports fan.  As with real cake, many people love the frosting - enjoying the initial presentation, believing it to enhance the experience of the cake.  But also like real cake, many people like looking at the frosting for only a minute before scraping it away to get to the heart of the dessert:  the cake.  Cheerleaders are looked at for a few minutes, and then looked through as their purpose has already been served.  As game watchers, we are taken in by the entire show, but quickly settle in to the main attraction, not needing the neatly coiffed, or the ever-present smile.  We want sweat, grunts, and action.

So the irony continues with the cheerleader.  They are the sweet outer covering of a more brutal and base activity.  And whether that sport is being played by men or women, we want our blood, sweat and tears.  We want grit and determination, heart, passion and skill.  We want camaraderie and winners.  We don't want hairspray and lipstick.  In school the girl who is put together is the one we want to be.  We want to be pretty, stylish and admired.  If you are less than feminine - you blend.  Most girls would like to be desired.  But on the field and on the court that image is suddenly fake and unnecessary.  It's O.K. to be less than feminine, as long as you are scoring points.  A basket, a goal, a home-run - the object of the game is primary.  What is not is how well the player applied her makeup.  This is not to say that female athletes don't wear make-up or make sure that their hair won't get in their face while they play.  But their physical image is not paramount to their performance.  No one will fault the soccer player who hasn't glossed her lips.  The cheerleader who arrives "un-done" is somehow less than ready to perform.  Even an entire squad of un-made-up cheerleaders would stand out for that reason and not because of how they cheered.

Cheer leading is a sport born of sexuality and naivete.  It is confidence and insecurity colliding in a pyramid of chants and drills.  It is too much for 5 and 7 year old girls.  It is truthfully too much for teenage girls - but they will never admit it.  And honestly - by the time we are old enough to handle the pressure and the image, we are exactly too old to be donning the skirt and grabbing the pom-poms.  Cheer leading is a sport for the flexible:  of body and of mind.  You need to be able to do a split while dividing your allegiance to the social network that makes up your world:  popular kids, athletes, brains, geeks, motor heads and the spaz.  It is a collection of girls banding together to form a cohesive union of nothing in common beyond the sweater and the sneakers.  Cheerleaders bound into the air to escape the misconception that they are usually flat on their backs.  They yell the loudest for they are the quietest when confronted alone.  They are in an environment that allows them to be fliers and bases - the reverse of what they are out of uniform.  Cheerleaders are - dynamic!

I am not ashamed that I was a cheerleader in both high school and college.  Rather, I am proud of holding on to a dream and a skill set that allowed me to stay involved in an institution that I believed in:  Minnechaug Regional High School and Framingham State College.  I'm just not ready to pass that enthusiasm along to my daughters.  When my girls are old enough to try out I will let them decide if cheer leading is the sport for them.  Only when they can survey for themselves the time commitment, the uniform, the image and the life - and decide if they want to tackle that, will they be allowed to try out.  Because unlike many other sports, the glory is short-lived.  It comes with making the team and then quickly fades.  With most sports you are glorified for an instant and then must live up to the expectation.  With cheer leading, you are glorified and then must live down the expectation.

It is an activity for the truly skilled.