“Show your tiiiiiiiitttttts!”

I hear you. Ahahaha. Ha. It’s funny. But right now, at this point…just this one moment in time…you can shut the fuck up and get out the way. Got something to speak on, for the fam. Boom!

Listen up, ninjas and ninjettes. Ya favorite Dark Carnival fortune-teller gypsy chick is back in the mix, here to speak on some ish. Jugglas? Come out to play. This article is an open invitation to the party of the decade! And this time? It’s personal. So set back and let me tell ya a little story. Here goes:

This year, Miss Juggalette pageant has a theme: Royalty. A queen of the scene will be crowned. The first ever “Juggalette Queen.” Wow. Royalty? That’s pretty much worlds away from past iterations of the contest.

And I think about what it means to be a queen. Everyday I live my life like that. I hold my head high like the diamond I am. I am incredible. Magnificent. Brilliant. Beautiful. And indeed…the shit.

Even as a queen, being down to earth is key. After all, I’m just a clown gal. I hail from some dark places, but I always carry the light. And I remember. It’s a struggle, but each day, in every way, I live in the present always cognizant of where I came from and my past. Arrogance and ego get thrown aside. Sweetness and openness reign supreme, even on my worst days. I’m clownin. It’s why I love ICP. I’m a female juggalo…err…”juggalette”…always.

So, all this said, why shouldn’t I break out, show the world who I am, and go for the 2013 Miss Juggalette title? Can we, the “female juggalos,” save the pageant from its former place as a Cave-in-Rock caveman, bikers-without-bikes, raunchy, fucky drool fest and take back the word “juggalette”? And why shouldn’t I step up on the stage as an artist, writer, staple of the scene, and juggalo to the fullest, and be a part of that shift?

The answer is simple.

Because I am absolutely terrified of getting in the spotlight for this kind of thing. Yes. You heard right. Even as I write this, there’s a sinking feeling in my gut.

What happens when the boys in the crowd start screaming, “So your tits, bitch!!!!”

What happens when they throw things? What happens when they boo us off and shout insults? Them boys are bigger than us, damn it! It’s intimidating!

All this has happened before.

I recall one time when the former Miss Juggalette host and ringleader Ron Jeremy asked a contestant, “What’s your talent?”

She said: “I LOVE video games! I’m great at them. I’m a total gamer and–”

He cut her short: “That’s boring.”

The crowd followed suit and booed her. She blushed.

Soon enough, the next girl grabbed the mike: “Well…I SUCK a MEAN DICK!” And barely post-pubescent boys screamed wildly in approval. She may very well have started deep throating the microphone. Good for her. I didn’t stick around to watch.

Now, don’t get it twisted: In my eyes, “Suckalette” was fine–I had no beef with her, and I didn’t judge her openness and exhibitionism. I actually thought she was really funny and entertaining. I find NOTHING wrong with erotic entertainers. (In fact, I call many of them my friends.)

It was the young men and the caveman mentality that irked me most. The disappointed faces of the big girls and fully clothed girls who weren’t allowed on stage, under Jeremy’s orders. And then there’s the “Gamerlette” who got booed by, in all likelihood, boys who were themselves gamers. Hypocrites.

And the host, Ron “The Hedgehog” Jeremy, stood there in the center of it all, egging on this energy in the name of “entertainment.” I wonder what he really was thinking in all this. (Although, if I asked, he’d probably say, “Loosen up, Sugar Tits.”) But maybe, somewhere, this was his revenge on any woman who’d ever called him short, hairy, and fat:

“Now, you take it bitch. You take it all night long on every stage and computer screen, pilled out, drugged up, wearing uncomfortable shoes and g-strings, with cakes of makeup and fake eyelashes. And if you ain’t taking your clothes off or adhering to double D, triple X standards, get the fuck off the stage. You don’t deserve to be present or accounted for, even if you have mad achievements unlocked on X-Box Live…”

Whoop Whoop.

In many ways, Ron became the face of the Gathering’s three-ring, all-female freakshow side stage. Come one, come all. See the fantastic freakhounds this circus has to offer. Appearing nightly, the freakshows themselves: The juggalettes of Cave-in-Rock! Dum! Dah! Dah! Dah!

If you Google pictures of the Miss Juggalette competition, one of the first images that comes up shows two women down on the ground in a cat fight, completely nude, covered in dirt and sweat, and clawing at each other viciously, while Ron Jeremy hovers over in approval, drooling and encouraging the fight on the dimly lit stage. You can see neither of these women’s faces. But everything else is clear. EVERYthing (except, of course, their hearts and minds).

If this isn’t representative of where things have gone wrong with us, I don’t know what is.

Ladies–How long will we strip down, degrade ourselves, and literally tear each other apart for mob-mentale, patriarchal approval? Isn’t it time we put an end to this freakshow?

Because the thing about circus freaks is…They don’t get any Respect in their quest for acceptance up on that stage, no matter how loud the applause and cheers. Ask the elephant man.

And, meanwhile, in the midst of this “entertainment,” somewhere in the corners of the festival grounds, some drugged-out girl wearing nothing but some ripped, ratty bandanas was being passed around, half asleep and covered in dust. Consensual, of course. Seven e-pills in, “She was asking for it.” True story.

I heard about some ninja who found her under a tree on the last day and took her home, helped her recover, and sobered her up. When she was ready, he drove her back to her hometown, across several state lines. True juggalo family.

…For every darkness, there is a light…

It’s some heavy stuff. But it’s always darkest before dawn.

So now we are given a chance to bring it all back to the light and crown the first ever Juggalette Queen, representing as a well-rounded woman in the scene. We don’t need to be one-dimensional sex objects. This ain’t no movie or pixilation, mang. Ain’t no prepubescent fantasy. We are the real thing. If you’re like me and you love the freaky ladies when they do their thing, see Ladies Oil Wrestling or the Wolfpac stage. And show respect. All juggalettes get respect, no matter what.

But this year, Miss Juggalette is slated to be more than just a piece of biker-esque erotica, peeled out the pages of Penthouse. She’s a queen. And could she be a voice? So that random ninjettes walking down the wooded path don’t get hound-dogged with titty chants? So that more ninjas are inclined to lift their injured sister up off that proverbial tree stump the last day (or even prior)? To care about her. To look out for her. No matter who she is or what she’s wearing. It don’t matter. We are family.

And so now here’s the official announcement. A Faygoluvers.net exclusive:

Psychopathic Records is no longer affiliated with Ron Jeremy and other hosts associated with the Miss Juggalette Pageant, due to their blatant disrespect and misconduct at pageants past. And the label has taken action to revamp and overhaul the setup of the 2013 Miss Juggalette contest to encourage a more well-rounded outcome, so the geeky gamer girls can get they props. We are kickin it old school. Who remembers the Miss Juggalette contests from the indoor gatherings? That’s what we’re going for this year.

We, the juggalettes, with Psychopathic Records at our side, are officially taking it back.

All this in mind, why shouldn’t ladies like me step up in the mix and represent for lettes worldwide, reclaiming our name? I sat and asked myself, “What’s the matter? Why you scared?” Then I saw a quote from one of my favorite writers:

“Like art, revolutions come from combining what exists into what has never existed before.”

Classy Lettes + the Cave-in-Rock Miss Juggalette Pageant?

Well…thinking locally on a very small scale…it really could be nothing short of a revolution.

My stage fright is through the roof, but fuck it. I’m fearless. I am going through with it. It’s in print, so now I can’t go back on my word. I feel like a boxer being interviewed at a pre-bout weigh-in when I say this:

Testing. One two? As a writer and artist juggalette and gathering veteran, of sound mind and heart, I am officially entering the 2013 Miss Juggalette contest, despite my hesitations (which are MANY), and I hope YOU reading right now can join forces with me and do the same!

Because I gotta put my money where my mouth is. We all do. For the juggalettes everywhere. And for the young women in the mix, especially.

“The best part about it is? I’m not alone.”

The Lette’s Respect Project is moving forward, full force, and the response thus far has been overwhelming. Join us. This year, we the lettes don’t wanna hear all the raunchy stuff “Miss Juggalette” did to win the title. We wanna hear “The Juggalette Queen is the BOMB of the scene.” End of story.

And I’m encouraging others like myself to overcome the intimidation factor and help clean up Ron Jeremy’s mess, like we some porn theater janitors, mops in hand. Clownin.

Are you in?

Ladies, if you’re reading this and want to participate in the Miss Juggalette contest adhering to the “Lette’s Respect” motto, I encourage you to do so. Go to facebook.com/LettesRespect and lend your voice. We need to stick together on this.

And, as a bonus, I have some insider info for ya, direct from Psychopathic Records headquarters. Here’s what we’re up against. Spoiler alert!

This year, there will be an all-star judges panel. NO Ron Jeremy or “Dirty Dan.” Crowd reactions will be taken into consideration but will NOT make or break the outcome of the contest. (Sorry, screaming, horny jugga-toads…you might not have as much pull as before.)

Ladies–There’s going to be three categories in the contest:

Category 1 is “Personality”: Answer questions and show the world who you are. Just be you! Easy enough, right?

Category 2 is “Talent”: And you might say, “But I don’t have a talent!” Yes. You do. Spit a verse, stand on your hands, show off your art, tell us about your kids or your ICP merch collection, or just be YOU. You a waitress? That’s a talent. Balance that tray. And there ain’t no Ron Jeremy around to tell you that your video game skills can be trumped by microphone-fellatio. (Hasn’t many a relationship ended over Playstation anyhow? Fellas–Face it, the “Gamerlette” who the Hedgehog dissed was your dream girl. Your loss.)

Category 3 is…brace yourself…the “Swimsuit Competition.” Sigh…the Psychopathic boys are running the show, aren’t they? Boys will be boys. And, in their defense, a swimsuit category IS standard for any pageant. Fair enough.

Now, I sound like a wet blanket, but for me, personally, the thought of standing up on the stage in a swimsuit, especially given the vibe of pageants past, is a complete deal breaker. This is what my high school nightmares were made of. When I heard this, I initially said, “That’s it. I’m out. Fuck it.” The thing is, I really like my body. In fact, I love and cherish it. It’s perfect, and there’s only one Me. But I think there’s a lot to be said about modesty. I’m shy. Hence, I’m a “nothing above the knee” kind of girl. It’s just my style. While I think songs like “Lil Sumthin Sumthin” and “Cherry Pie” are funny as hell–clownin–is that me? Naw. Far from it. Look: I can hardly even wear a two-piece to the beach let alone on stage for prying eyes. And if I have to do that to rep for the lettes, I at least want Moon Glorious up there in his speedos right alongside us. It’s only fair.

But before I could get the chance to hit up my local sporting goods store in search of a 5XL speedo, I had an idea…

And if you’re a lette reading this and the swimsuit portion of the contest has you down for the count, know that I have a trick up my sleeve for ALL of us who don’t feel all that comfortable competing in this category.

I can’t give it away. All I can say is that I have a great idea, and you gotta trust me on that.

If you’re like me and don’t want to don a conventional swimsuit on the stage, I have something fresh for you to wear that you’ll even be able to personalize and take home with you as a souvenir. (Oh yes, the Lette’s Respect Project is giving out prizes here.) Big girls? Older ladies? Midget freaks like me? We got you covered (pun intended)! It’s dope too. Trust me. You’re going to laugh and love it!

Come see us at the Miss Juggalette Pregame Barbeque Bash, claim your prize, and find out what this is all about. All mysteries will be revealed!

Oh wait. Did I get ahead of myself? Pregame what? BAR-B-QUE, son! Ohhhhhhh snap!

You are all officially invited:

Saturday at 3 o’clock at the Freakshow stage, Faygoluvers, The Dark Carnival Tarot, and Lette’s Respect will be sponsoring a Miss Juggalette Pregame Barbeque Bash tailgate party, where we’ll be cooking up food for aspiring contestants and encouraging lettes to talk about their vision for the contest and the “Juggalette Nation” in general.

Note that per Psychopathic Records’ instructions, entry for the Miss Juggalette contest is first-come, first-serve. We’re not allowed to stack the deck. Thus whoever arrives first gets on stage. That’s it! Plain and simple.

So if you are down for the cause, get there early and have some grub with FLH and Lette’s Respect.

Real women eat and cook well–what’s good? My thick chicks know it!

C’mon down, ladies. Get to know your fellow lettes, fellow competitors, and let’s all work together so we can take back the word “juggalette.”

And as for the fellas–C’mon down to the barbeque and the contest. For real. We need you to cheer us on and be crowd control. If someone starts dissing the ladies, you gotta check em. Don’t make me call in my personal security ninjette, Hack Beverly. Shit could get ugly.

Lette’s Respect. Let’s raise it up and have some fun in the process. This could be the party of all parties at the gathering, especially for the lettes. Because we can make it about love–real love–clown love for our ninjettes.

It is LONG overdue. Look atcha homegirl. Your girly-friend. Your sister. Your daughter. Yo chickenface mama. Ain’t she worth it? She is.

Saturday. 3pm. The Freakshow stage. A new era dawns: “Juggalette” should be mean “Respect.” That word? We are taking it back.

If we stand together, we have nothing to fear.

After all…It’s in the Cards, my lovelies.

***
Rachel Paul (aka “wow a chick”) is the author and illustrator of the Dark Carnival Tarot Cards and the unofficial Faygoluvers graphics grrrl. She bounces back and forth between Philly and Detroit and loves long walks on the beach, Shaggy 2 Dope, and Candy Apple Faygo. Visit her at facebook.com/darkcarnivaltarot or etsy.com/shop/darkcarnivaltarot.