The Many Thoughts of Wanda Kidd

When I found them, they were in their original box. They were my sister’s majorette boots purchased 52 years ago. Four years after her death, I found them buried underneath her Harlequin romance novels and toys from her days of running a daycare. They were in rough shape.  There was a nest of some sort in one boot and the insoles were rolled up beyond usefulness in both boots, but they elicited a visceral response in my heart.

Amy was one of those people who did not take “NO” as an answer if it was something that she truly wanted, regardless of whether it was the easiest or even the best thing for her. I know that there are some who say that is a family trait, but we are not addressing that now.

Early on she wanted to be a musician and she thought, as many small town’s people did, that the school band was the most hopeful place to start.  She played the trumpet and then moved up to a baritone horn, but somewhere along the way, she decided that she wanted to be a majorette. 

I cannot tell you how confused I was by this aspiration.  Amy was the most modest person I may have ever known, other than my Aunt Josie. So, the thought of her willingly putting on a bright white, sleeveless top and leg-revealing shorts and marching around on the football field, twirling a baton in front of the whole stadium was mind-blowing.

What was more troublesome for me was the response of the band director when she approached him with her interest.  He looked at her and scoffed. “You would need to lose 35 pounds for me to even think about letting you try out.

Admittedly Amy was not svelte, but the temerity of that statement said so much about the cultural norm of that day. Most young women who did not meet the visual criteria, would not have had the audacity to even ask for a place on the stage, so when someone actually stepped out of line and asked for a shot, she was met with incredulous disbelief that gave permission to speak hurtfully, hopefully, to shut down further inquiry.

Mr. Black should have known about Amy’s perseverance by then, but once again he under-estimated her.  She said, “So, if I lose the weight will you let me be a majorette?  “Sure”, he said believing that the issue was settled in his favor, but not so.

With no encouragement from anyone, me included, she ate salads for the first time in her life and gave up Pepsis and popcorn, and returned to tryouts, 35 pounds lighter. I will commend the band director for upholding his word. However, when I opened that box and saw those boots, it all came flooding back; the prejudice, the dismissive response to someone who longed for a chance, and our willingness to do torturous things to our bodies and minds just to fit in.

These days, every time I see a young person, who does not meet the stereotypical norm on a chorus line or a dance team, I celebrate their courage, I also pray for a world that celebrates the uniqueness and values each person’s worth.  Amen.