NOTE. Contains spoilers for Season 2 of Cheer!
(Which admittedly, came out a million years ago, so if you haven’t watched it already then THAT’S ON YOU BUDDY.)
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Cheerleading has never been something I’ve been interested in — never wanted to participate in, learn about, or frankly even think about. Sure I watched Bring It On, and saw girls waving pompoms at the basketball, but that was about the extent of it all. Until, that is, a little show called Cheer.
Along with countless others, I became bewitched by the Netflix docudrama Cheer, released in 2020. I devoured the first Season during an unremarkable Covid lockdown, investing myself in the ‘characters’ from Navarro College, and watching with bated breath to see which team would prevail in the famed National Cheerleading Championship in Daytona, Florida. Would Navarro scoop up their fifteenth National Championship win? For a few weeks, while reality was paused, the world of cheer became my own. (As a rare binger, I can report that I binged the S**t out of that show.)
Alas, I must be both fickle and related to a goldfish, because when ‘life’ restarted, I quickly forgot all about Navarro and what it meant to really be a cheerleader. My Crave account was neglected. Time slipped away. Seasons turned. Across the globe, babies were born. Flowers bloomed and leaves fell. I laughed and cried and thought not once about Cheer.
A few months ago, a bored night wandering the corridors of Crave led me to rediscover the show that had consumed me. With a ragged breath, I turned to Season 2.
I could write a whole piece on Season 2, however with the intention of eventually getting to my theme, I’ll skip to the finale. After an incredible multi-year winning stream, Navarro College came runner up to their arch-rivals Trinity College. For Navarro, the prospect of not winning was only made worse by their fall to Trinity.
Watching the juxtaposed scenes of the winners — the cacophonous screaming and ecstatic sobbing — against the runners up (LOSERS) — the silence and sniffles, the mouths etched open in soundless screams — exposed something so profoundly sad about competitive sport. Despite performing a near-perfect routine, Navarro were beyond distraught, crying, isolating themselves in silence, no single silver lining to be seen.
Undeniably, both teams had worked relentlessly for months, trained for years, and performed “their tails off” to a level I’ll never even graze. As elite squads, they came to win. They were each worthy of winning. I understand that.
But what I saw were two incredibly talented teams, bursting with athleticism to an almost superhuman level. Audiences watched, enthralled (both live and double-time through the screen of the show) as they executed demanding, skillful routines, packed with countless stunts, flips, energy and choreography. Their muscles worked and their bodies achieved a level of functionality that most people will never actualize.
Therein lay the cause of my sadness. Not because I want to do these things. Honestly I can’t be bothered. It was the hyper-fixation on winning that made me despondent. How could they glean no relic of self-satisfaction, when I can’t even do a handstand?
It made me think about competitiveness as a cult of winning.
To feel intellectually, physically or somehow dominant in relation to others naturally evokes feelings of pride and esteem. From childhood we’re socialized to believe that winning is an important aspect of life and a building block of self-esteem. In America especially, winning is bound to the American Dream.
Obsessed with heroism and individualism, the Western World has always idolized cultural heroes like Jason Bourne or James Bond. Bond (James, Bond) is an archetypal hero, whose films follow a reliable plot wherein good triumphs over evil, accomplished solely by the protagonist. This theme is one that continues today, in action or adventure films, as the lead character independently conquers malevolent forces, delighting the audience despite an often-suspended reality.
Fixating on lone heroes and a winner takes all attitude, have we pumped the concept of winning with an inflated sense of purpose? Is it too far a stretch to question whether we connect winning not simply with being the best, but with being a hero? With being loveable?
Even within the context of a team or group, extreme competitiveness feels somehow individualist. Regardless of whether the result of competition is to win or to assert dominance over another group, the solidification of identity relates to the individual. To be a part of a winning team is perhaps most gratifying because of what it represents about you as a person. I am one of the best – I am one of the elite. I am a winner. This is underpinned by the evolutionary human need to belong. (I am one of the elite also = I belong.) Fulfilling this need to belong feels foundational, but less dynamic. Sure, competitiveness can be both tribalistic and individualist, but in an industrialized, capitalist world, how much of competitiveness is driven by, or connected to, ego?
Urging us to perform better and reduce discrepancy between ourselves and others is a human’s inherent ‘unidirectional drive’ upwards. A competitive spirit is evolutionary — a mechanism to survive. Harvard Business Review wrote that “competition increases physiological and psychological activation, which prepares body and mind for increased effort and enable higher performance.” Interestingly, competition extends across all areas of life, whether that be education, occupation, sport, social settings or business.
In the same way that consumerist structures are built to exploit our human weaknesses for profit1, these same systems also play on our innate human drivers (eg. The unidirectional, upwards drive). Corporations similarly channel this instinctual urge into hyper-productivity and competitiveness across companies or corporate sectors. Is there a better metaphor than the corporate ladder climb?
Making oneself indispensable, standing out, working overtime, going ‘above and beyond’ or yielding quantifiable results for corporate gain are the measures required to get ahead (or sometimes merely stay afloat). Within a Capitalist context and a digitalized world, these systems become games that we are forced to play in order to survive. Overworking is now commonplace. Success now means playing the game to win, or preferably, beating the system.
If work’s not your jam or this doesn’t resonate with you, then don’t worry! There are other avenues for you to explore! Indeed, to care for yourself is no longer simply caring for yourself — it is ‘self-care’. This industry is also a multi-faceted preoccupation. It’s a potential identity : an all-encompassing billion-dollar concoction of diffusers and sleep sprays, exercise, active-wear, expensive lotions and elaborate night routines, bubble bath and mental health apps and aesthetic, cozy (but luxe, $500) blankets.
These all become identities for us to submerge into or conquer. Our outcome-driven culture means winning takes on an elevated importance. The messaging insists that once your nighttime routine is consistently wholesome and intentionally self-involved, then you are virtuous and mentally well. You are elevated. You are winning! Once you’ve had a couple of therapy sessions or dutifully follow mental health influencers, then you can successfully adopt the language. Once you speak the therapised jargon, you’re healed! The need for categorization serves only to raise the stakes of competition.
Elise Hu recently talked to Anne Helen Petersen on Culture Study, about hustle culture and how beauty culture is a form of this, one that has ‘reached our bodies.’ In connecting these, we become competitors desperately trying to keep up with or beat (as Jessica Defino says) ‘aesthetic inflation’. Not only do we feel like we are competing with a standard, and those around us, but now we are also competing with ourselves. We are competing with our very biology, with gravity, with nature.
It's our individual relationship with competition that also interest me. While the evolutionary or inherent drive may compel us to compete — and attach the outcome with meaning — some of us have been taught that it’s more self-protective to opt out. Accumulated experiences of losing, disappointment, or perhaps barriers making it harder to compete could all be reasons to avoid participation. How can you lose if you don’t compete?
Conversely, human curiosity or the temptation of some kind of advancement are often impossible to suppress. AI would you please come up to the mic. Let’s look at the development of Artificial Intelligence. Threats to humanity and life as we know it are essentially being brushed aside due to competition.
In a recent article in the New Yorker, Matthew Hutson discussed the possibility of a technology learning to “improve itself over and over again until computing technology reaches what’s known as “the singularity” : a point at which it escapes our control.” It has been researched that there is likewise a drive to maintain a superior relative position (hence why systems of oppression are so hard to dismantle). This is none too evident in the AI race.
The paragraph that stood out to me: “Even if everyone agrees on the threat, no company or country will want to pause on its own, for fear of being passed by competitors. Bostrom told me that he foresees a possible “race to the bottom,” with developers undercutting one another’s levels of caution. Earlier this year, an internal slide presentation leaked from Google indicated that the company planned to “recalibrate” its comfort with A.I. risk in light of heated competition.”
Obviously this poses huge problems as companies seem to prioritize winning over, well, possible societal safety or human existence (LOL!). I have to believe that this race comes from a place of wanting ultimate betterment rather than cultural or economic capital. Part of me fears that humans simply can’t resist the dangling carrot of progression. Maybe our biological drivers have gone into overdrive. (Are we becoming computers?)
Don’t get me wrong, I luuuhrv a little healthy competition. You only need to see me at a family games night to know this. I once accidentally made a guy’s nose bleed during a soccer game because I was too invested. Pursuits like sport or games play into our evolutionary drive in a way that can feel delicious and thrilling. Possibly they allow an outlet for a compulsion that can easily turn dark. It can be fun to have rivals in sport (hello Aus Vs. UK in the Ashes) and can add to the spice, excitement, stakes. Without stakes — or the illusion of them — then we could realise that we’re really just playing a silly game while waiting to die.2
It's a fine line however, and symptoms of competitiveness can include: unwillingness to maximize joint gains, duplicitous behaviour, harmful behaviour, enhancements, hostile attitudes, biased recommendations. So, while competitiveness is experienced internally it is motivated by external factors. But when coupled with identity, money, esteem, ego, cultural value, time and dedication, the act of winning can then become everything. You can see how competitiveness and the all-consuming burn to win can exacerbate unhealthy dynamics, which can easily spiral in extremity.
Which leads me back to Navarro. The proximity to winning, the number of competitors, the comparison across social categories, the importance of gymnastics in each individual’s life story, the environment that praised winning above all, the time, the energy, the honing of physical bodies, the resilience, the kinship, the personal pressure, as well as the history between the two teams, all contributed to increased competitiveness. It was a stew of boiling factors.
Besides the coach Monica, not one person had reassuring words. No one reasoned that it was okay, everything would be okay, that they had still achieved an incredible feat. Again, I’m not from this world, I can’t grasp the sacrifices and hardships of a life revolved around competitive cheerleading. I don’t have their personal experiences, which made winning even more pertinent to them as individuals. And still… I couldn’t help but wish they could see themselves in that moment as I saw them: Superhumans who deserved ecstatic celebration in spite of the outcome.
PS. As usual, I have digressed a LOT, because I can’t help tumbling down all the rabbit holes that open in my mind (extremely MESSILY), so if you made it to the end well done. You, really are a winner.
I am so fun!