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.
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