Natural Born Cheerleader
What Bring It On teaches girls.
by Lisa Carver
December 18, 2006
That choice, posed in coming-of-age girl movies, is too often answered in this way: "Neither. I'll take option C, a husband." Grease, the movie my mother took me to during my window of still-formingness also starred a cute blonde popular virgin cheerleader — Sandy — who, like Torrance, had to decide between the bad-boy outsider and the cute blond popular sporty normal boy. But while Sandy flounders in a masochistic orgy of choosing based on who has greater need of her never-ending forgiveness (if only my mother had heard of deconstruction before allowing me to watch that movie forty-nine times during my tender years!), Torrance makes her choice based on who supports her in her dream to be the best head cheerleader she can be.
Yes, I said leader. Every problem and every solution in Bring It On! is generated by a girl. Name me one other movie like that. Sure, Sigourney Weaver survives the alien predator. But she didn't instigate the battle between them. And, whereas the apex of competition in Grease is the drag race between Danny and that leering, pit-faced man while Sandy watches supportively from the bleachers, the high stakes in Bring It On! are Torrance and the totally hot Compton Clovers captain showing the judges and the general public what they can do, with Cliff watching and supporting from the bleachers. (But he's not a useless pansy . . . Torrance does incorporate part of a punk rock song he wrote into her team's routine.)
So while it's Torrance's ever-changing hairdos that drew Sadie in, just like Sandy's dos did with me — and the sleepovers, makeovers, and best friendships — the lessons Torrance imparts once she's got my little girl by the roots are so superior to the one I got: tart yourself up and your man will change for you, and you'll fly off together (literally) in a levitating car to fulfill your dreams of having sex and being in love and . . . that's about it, no dream beyond that.
When Sadie told me her decision to become a cheerleader too, I said, "You know that means you'll have to exercise even when you don't feel like it and do things for the team . . . hard, dirty work, like washing muddy cars to raise money. Are you willing?" She answered with a resolute "Yes!"
I don't know why cheering has such a fluffy rep. In Bring It On! and in real life, cheerleading teaches lessons of teamwork, training, and trust. It's hard. When I left that world for anarchism at sixteen, I realize now I was trading down. At the time, it looked like insomnia, angst, and blackouts were more meaningful, but in fact they were the path of least resistance, leading me to have less resistance to just about anything.
Bring It On! is a bit dark for a four year old (but so is the world, sister!). The word "ass" is used about twenty times. And Sparky, the abusive choreographer, pops pills and smashes a stool. But only because he has a dream. He really cares about "spirit fingers." It's good to care that much about something.
That's what I want for Sadie: that she care, no matter what it is she chooses to care about.
©2006 Lisa Carver and Nerve Media
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