It’s all over until next year. The armchair judging. The “I wouldn’t wear that now” remarks about gúnas. The “ah, did you see her daddy crying?” exclamations. A new Rose of Tralee has been crowned. The Kiwi Rose, Keely O’Grady is willing and ready to rule over her domain of Ireland, the Irish diaspora and dresses with detachable skirts that can be whipped off for Irish dancing at a moment’s notice. May her reign be pleasant, productive and involve some sort of sponsored travel.
Each year the competition stirs the usual discussion: is the festival outdated? Does it celebrate only a sliver of Irish women at the expense of the rest of the complex mosaic that makes up the rest of us? Maybe. Could it improve? Probably. But if we expect one competition once held in a tent in a Kerry car park to laud all deserving Irish women, we might be asking a bit too much. The current upper age limit for Rose applicants is 29, which despite what internet incels tell us, is not the age where women melt into useless hags. It’s sometimes the age where we only start getting the chance to pursue the things we want to do.
What if we recognised the spectrum of admirable feats achieved by women daily through a series of categories in another awards system?
Sometimes success at work means crying in the disabled loo but powering through the day anyway
Like the I’m Going to Count to Five trophy for mams who have successfully navigated the witching hour solo with a small child on a post-birthday party sugar crash. This acknowledges those of us brave enough to talk down a toddler tantrum using nothing but their bare wits. Staying calm in the face of storm while deploying high-level terrorist negotiation tactics such as pretending to call Santa. Recipients will usually have snacks in their bag, and smashed cracker dust coating all their make-up. They have eyes in the backs of their heads and can discern the difference between a peaceful silence and when it’s suspiciously quiet. These women are often the masters of scheduling, from knowing the exact amount of time they have to do school drop-off to what days the bag for ballet needs to be packed. It’s rumoured the US military’s logistics are so strong that they can set up a fully operational Burger King anywhere in the world in under 48 hours. Judging from what I’ve seen, I think mothers of multiple children could do it in 24.
If we expect a competition once held in a Kerry car park to laud all deserving Irish women, we might be asking a bit too much
After years living in Ireland, everything in Australia feels suspiciously easy
I’ve yet to meet a woman who has regretted not getting married but plenty of married ones who have
The Irish spice bag has arrived in Australia and not everyone is happy
Other special mentions go to mothers of newborn babies who haven’t managed to leave the house in a week and didn’t call the Garda on relatives who insisted on coming over unannounced to see the baby the instant they arrived home from hospital, demanding cups of tea. The winner of this award gets to do anything they bloody want for once, whether that’s an uninterrupted shower or a three-day rollover in Berlin to let off steam. We don’t judge.
Then there’s the Hanging by a Thread accolade for the women who are really struggling but who have no choice but to keep going. They might be chronically ill, dealing with a break-up, bereaved, burnt out, battling with their mental health and/or trying to grow out an ill-advised fringe that came about from any of the above stressors. Sometimes success at work means crying in the disabled loo but powering through the day anyway. Sometimes it’s just making it through the end of another day so you can have another go tomorrow. At some point in life we’ve all resided on Struggle Street. That’s the wheel of life. Sometimes you’re on top and other times you identify a little too much with an illustrated bumper sticker of a crying hamster with “I’m just trying my best” written next to it. Successful applicants may or may not be routinely buying new underwear from Penneys because they haven’t had the energy to put on a wash or colouring the hole in their tights with a black marker because they’re too late for work to change. The winning recipient is granted a little lie down and for President Micheal D Higgins to appear at the foot of the bed with a cup of tea in hand to tell you how proud he is of you.
Other accolade categories could include Women Who Are Too Gracious to Say ‘I Told You So’ Even Though They Indeed Did Tell You So. But Did You Listen? No. Then there’s the annual trophy for Most Soul-Crushing Response to a Cat Call. Plus the perpetual shield for Dodging Inappropriate Personal Questions and the Trying on Jeans Without Hating Your Body Because Sizing Is Shite badge of merit. When it comes down to it, there’s a thousand reasons to give women their bualadh bos, with or without Dáithí present.