Saying what with Roses?

Do Rose of Tralee contestants epitomise Irish women, or are they an outmoded ideal of the comely maiden, asks Fionola Meredith…

Do Rose of Tralee contestants epitomise Irish women, or are they an outmoded ideal of the comely maiden, asks Fionola Meredith

The Rose of Tralee International Festival has been described as a cross between Miss World and Opportunity Knocks. But that's a portrayal certain to irritate fans, who defend the moral integrity of festival participants - the "lovely girls" - with chivalrous zeal. Ted Keane, communications manager for the 2005 festival, which began yesterday, emphasises that "it is not a beauty competition; there are no swimsuits. It's a personality-based contest that values honesty, strength of character, a sense of adventure".

Mark Leen (aka Emerald Elvis, the headline act of this year's festival) was outraged when he heard a woman in a local shop dismiss the competition as "just a beauty contest".

"As a Tralee man, I felt insulted," he said. "It's about far more than beauty. It's about finding that quintessential Irish colleen quality, that endearing charm."

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Of course, the urtext of the competition is the eponymous love song by 19th-century merchant William Mulchinock. In it, he declares (with lyrical ambiguity) that it was "the truth in her eyes ever dawning" that made him fall for lovely Mary, the original Rose of Tralee. In 2003, Enniskillen-born Ulster Rose Ciara McGinley impressed the then host, Ryan Tubridy, with her neat summary of the festival's ethos.

"I would definitely not define it as a beauty pageant because the girl that wins isn't the person with the nicest hair or the most expensive clothes or the best-looking girl," she said. "In my mind [ the judges] are just looking for the epitome of Irish womanhood."

The festival claims to "celebrate modern young women in terms of their aspirations, ambitions, intellect, social responsibility and Irish heritage". Organisers like to refer to the Roses as "ordinary girls with extraordinary qualities". The much-mocked "party pieces" that the Roses perform - songs, poems, jigs and, on one occasion, a didgeridoo accompaniment to The Fields of Athenry - are included not to showcase outstanding talent, but to enhance that reassuringly homely girl-next-door quality. So when the girls sing a bum note, giggle, blush or weep, it doesn't matter. It's that innocent, fragrant charm the judges are looking for, an unspoiled "born-to-please" charisma.

YET NO ONE is suggesting participants are simply fluffy young things, devoid of intelligence. The current crop of Roses include physicists, solicitors, physiologists and arts graduates. But they do share a similar fresh-faced quality; a demure, almost asexual, appeal. In contrast to the tanned, oiled and sculpted goddesses who, in dresses slashed to the crotch, compete for the Miss Ireland crown, these natural-looking young women don't expose any excess flesh. They exude an understated, down-to-earth allure. But the wholesomeness can get overpowering. In 2001, Miss Ireland Yvonne Ellard was scathing about the "sweetness and light" that permeates the festival. She said: "If you watch all the girls, every single one says, 'I want to work with children' or 'this is for the children' - and that's crap actually."

The winning Rose is seen by many as the chief debutante of the Irish diaspora, the flesh-and-blood embodiment of a romantic Irish ideal. But as Shannons, Kerrys and Colleens descend on Tralee, there's no doubt that their gentle "Irishness" is a highly marketable commodity. Writer and critic Medb Ruane once observed that: "The Rose is Ireland's answer to the perennial problem of how to present sexuality as a tame beast with which to milk the global wallets of the old diaspora by reassuring us that wherever we roam, there'll always be a welcome mat and a fine, economically independent female to warm the pot without giving you backchat."

And poet Eavan Boland has pointed out the perils of appropriating Irish femininity as a national emblem. She warns: "Once the idea of a nation influences the perception of a woman then that woman is suddenly and inevitably simplified. She can no longer have complex feelings and aspirations. She becomes the passive projection of a national idea."

That passivity concerns Ailbhe Smyth, director of the Women's Education Research and Resource Centre at UCD. She says: "Frankly, girls, do we need this any more? The Rose of Tralee festival is selling a particular brand of womanhood long past its sell-by date. It's trying to reinforce very traditional views of femininity and female roles in contemporary society; it seems to be saying that the acme of being a young woman is to be smiley and pleasant. And they make it look very attractive, with the glamorous frocks and all the attention."

But if festival organisers are selling, young women aren't buying, according to Smyth. "The festival increasingly seems to be out of step with how young women see themselves; only a very small proportion would directly identify with its standards of unsullied virginity. It's the previous generation's view of what women are and should be: it's the mammies and daddies, not the daughters, who are watching it on TV. Young women today decide on their own terms what it means to be a woman."

Joanna McMinn, director of the National Women's Council of Ireland, takes a more benign view. "The Rose of Tralee festival, as a traditional part of Irish summer tourism, is as much about celebrating the Irish heritage as it is a beauty contest, attracting young women of Irish descent from all over the world and from all counties in Ireland. Competitors are portrayed as independent, positive, intelligent women, with an emphasis on having fun and enjoying themselves. And the Rose of Tralee appears innocent and innocuous by comparison with the trafficking of women from non-Irish backgrounds from different parts of the world to work in Irish lap-dancing clubs."

In Kate O'Brien's famous novel of Irish convent life, The Land of Spices, girls are taught to adhere to the seemly virtues of la pudeur et la politesse: modesty and courtesy. In this competition of "Irish heritage, personality and poise", potential Roses aspire to similar standards of chaste decorum and winning charm, watched by thousands of fascinated viewers. Behind the glitter and the glamour, it seems that the ancient ideal of the pure unspoiled maiden retains much of its allure in the 21st century.

The Rose of Tralee will be shown on RTÉ 1 on Monday and Tuesday at 8pm