Big boys don't cry

I am fairly certain I've never been accused of being a metro sexual male. It's not like I am a neanderthal. I'm just a regular guy who likes regular guy things. I ascribe to the belief men are to keep their emotions in check. It pains me to see shows like The Bachelor where effeminate pretty boys feign heterosexual impulses while selecting from a bevy of low self-esteem, surgically enhanced fame seekers and then shed tears of regret for "the one that I should have chosen". My guess is the one they are tearing up for is listed in the show's scrolling credits as the "best boy" but an admission of that would kill their ratings.

I'll happily submit to any voir dire regarding my status as an old fashioned male of Renaissance values. So it is with a humbled ego but no regrets that I admit today I witnessed something that brought tears to my jaded eyes.

In the course of my daily reading and quest for a suitable blog topic, I kept coming across posts about a middle-aged frumpy Scottish woman who's popularity on You Tube was "Boyling" over after her appearance on Britain's Got Talent. With the same curiosity that normally get's one in trouble and infects laptops with a virus, I clicked an enticing link. WOW! [Note: the embedded video below has been edited. Follow the previous link for a full version.]



My analytical mind has struggled with what it is that has so profoundly affected many of the millions who have witnessed Susan Boyle's performance. Honestly, had she simply walked in to your average Irish pub on Karaoke night and belted the song out, she would have garnered the attention of everyone there but only for that fact she has an above average set of pipes. More tears would be shed at last call than at the end of the first refrain. So what happened on Britain's Got Talent?

I think what happened was a crowd of superficial, judgemental, cynics had their entrenched paradigm ripped out, chewed up and spit back in their faces by an unassuming, church going spinster.

I've never enjoyed American Idol, the United State's variation of Britain's Got Talent, for the same reason I don't enjoy escape artists. The first weeks of every season are the variety show equivalent of an amateur performance of a buried alive stunt or high wire straight jacket escape. People tune in hoping for failure and bloody carnage and find themselves mildly amused when, with a brief glimmer of talent, a tragic ending is avoided. I can only assume the Neilsen households who drive up Idol's ratings get some feeling of superiority watching ignorant, tone deaf hacks embarrassing themselves in a quest for instant fame. Once a score of marginally talented and visually appealing vocalists are selected, the show becomes a soap opera where the most deserving (read: needy) is often retained for another week instead of the most able.

When the eccentric, learning disabled, cat loving homebody walked on stage the crowd prepared itself for an easy chuckle at her expense. Perhaps Ms. Boyle benefited from the prejudice of low expectation but, seconds in to her performance, she burst from her caterpillar's cocoon to become the butterfly of the evening. The standing ovation she received was justly deserved although I fear it was spawned from guilt. Guilt borne of prejudice against the plain. Guilt over the hope that this woman would fall flat on her face and be subject to the show's judge's ridicule.

Judge Amanda Holden was most eloquent in her sincere apology and her statement that, "it was a complete privilege to listen to that". Yes it was a privilege. In this era of fame at any cost and undeserved popularity, to witness someone's pursuit of a dream in an altruistic endeavor instead of an assumed right to infamy is all the more special because the dreamer doesn't fit the mold, or the wardrobe, of your average overnight sensation.

Ms. Boyle has embarked on a journey to success and so far seems to be taking it all in stride. I pray she avoids the pitfalls and pratfalls that will surely be written in to the script of this unscripted reality show and that she does remain faithful to who she is. If she does succumb, she will become just another narcissist seeking fame instead of the ugly duckling who's swan does not emerge as outer beauty but instead is embodied in the reminder to us all that dreams can come true and no one can tell us otherwise if we believe in ourselves.