The Mascot

The company I work for periodically has pep rallies to boost employee morale, and, since one is coming up in the next few days, my co-workers and I were chatting about what a strange ritual high school pep rallies are.  I always made a point to skip them in my day, generally opting for hookie joyrides with my buddies, but I did end up going to at least one.  The one I remember attending will be etched into my mind forever.

It was 1994, and the predominantly flannel-laden student body poured into the gymnasium for a special pep rally.  It was a tryout for the lucky kid who would don that year’s beloved mascot costume, the Wildcat.  The ten or so hopefuls had to dance and cheer, wearing their own makeshift interpretation of what they envisioned as the spirit of said mascot.  Most were just dorky or very gung ho guys clumsily jumping around and shouting cheers with a felt tails pinned to their jeans and whiskers drawn on their faces, but I remember the singular girl who tried out.  This was, hands down, one of my clearest high

school memories, besides the time my boyfriend drank an entire Clearly Canadian bottle full of vodka before Geometry class and puked on his semester exam, but I digress.  This 16 year old girl, whose name I will never forget—Ashley Jackson—slinked out, hands behind her back, in a black leather corset, garters, kitty cat ears, 2-inch long lashes, and patent leather stilettos.   The cheers from the crowd sort of faded into a moment of silence as we collectively drew her in with our eyes to make sense of what was going on.  The faculty stood in disbelief.  This young lady paused, haughtily eyeballed the crowd, took one hand out from behind her back, clawed at the air and hissed as if possessed by Julie Newmar.  The crowd silence continued as teenage boys struggled to find the presence of mind to scoop their jaws off the bleachers.  Then, the girl took her other hand out from behind her back to reveal a black leather bull whip, which she cracked mercilessly on hardwood gym floor.  The crowd erupted in applause as she proceeded to do backflips and a number of gymnastic feats to Salt N Pepa's "Push It", ultimately ending in the splits and a final whip crack.  Everyone in that room left a changed being, including myself.   I was maybe even a little jealous that I hadn’t thought of it, but I do so cherish this memory.

It has taken me 20 years to say it, but a belated congratulations to you, Ashley Jackson, the official Wildcat mascot of 1994 and forever reigning mascot of all of the sexually comfortable.  Wherever you are and whatever you are doing, I’m sure you know that you were, and probably still are, a woman ahead of your time.