Dena Rashed quizzes out so many gorgeous contestants Are women who enroll in beauty pageants shallow and superficial by default? As I walk into Face to Face agency, the company behind Miss Egypt, I try to rid my mind of preconceptions. Sure enough, the young Miss Egypts to be I encounter turn out to be cognizant of stereotype they are up against. "I know what the image of girls who participate in beauty pageants is, especially in Egypt," says Reem Ramadan, 18, a mass communication student and one of 24 out of 832 women short-listed to enter the competition next Tuesday. "Actually," she goes on, "many of us have the brains as well as the looks." A brunette with fine-chiselled features and a body fit for the catwalk, Ramadan argues that beauty goes beyond mere looks: "Okay, my face and skin colour are very Egyptian, but that's not all that makes me special -- it's not enough for representing Egypt. I might be young but I know I'm cultured and more mature than many girls my age, and I believe the pageant will help bring the best out of me." Many contestants share Ramadan's attitude. Fatima Khalil, 22, feels that public opinion of beauty pageants must change. This year, in particular, contestants are eager to highlight their role in society -- over and above the entertainment they provide on pageant night. "If people get to know how we think," Khalil says, "they will realise this is not just about looks." The fact that she studies Arabic and Islamic jurisprudence at the Faculty of Religious Sciences, one of the most conservative departments of Cairo University and a Muslim Brothers stronghold, has raised not a few eyebrows, making her a somewhat extreme example of the looks-are-not-everything line of thinking. "I've been a model for the last five years," she explains, "and though it's a source of awkwardness with my colleagues at the faculty, some of them have got used to it." If she wins, she says, Khalil plans on bringing attention to the problems of street children. According to Andre Abu Shaar, a contest planner, this year's contenders are generally very well educated: "This might be due to the competition growing bigger every year, or maybe people are starting to get used to the idea." The crown remains the goal of every contestant, but most share the belief that the contest "will bring the best out of them" anyway. Reham El-Sheikh, a political science student who hopes to join the diplomatic corps after graduating, claims she is learning more every day: "I hesitated a lot before deciding to run in this contest, but so far it's all adding to my store of knowledge. I want to be my country's ambassador one day, so why not do it in the beauty department for now -- this is the way I've come to think of it, you see." On the bus conveying contestants to Samia Alouba's Fitness Centre, where they attend choreography class, Ilham Wagdi, 22, a fine arts student, tells me that, for her, participating in the pageant is one more possibility to explore; and it's important to try out all that life has to offer: "In the past I thought the pageant was ridiculous, but then I thought it over -- I know I am not a superficial person and I look good, so I have nothing to lose, do I?" Although still a student, Wagdi has had experience as an interior decorator and now works as a make-up artist. The crown would help her launch her career as a stylist, she says. Though she expected more in the way of improving communication skills, Sherine El-Gazzar, 20, an American University in Cairo mass communication student, has nonetheless enjoyed the organisers' extensive choreography course: "I feel good controlling my diet, and all this movement helps me stay fit." Three hours three times a week learning how to control gait and present yourself to an audience -- hardly a useless exercise for a pretty young woman, after all. Decked out in killer heels and bombarded with continuous instructions, they tend to be remarkably giggly -- probably a stress management technique. Yet for Nihal Farouki (daughter of the aforementioned Alouba), who has been training young women for eight years, discipline remains a problem: "This is the biggest group of contestants we've ever had --" Farouki is interrupted by loud laughter and, reprimanding the culprit, she sighs while the culprit giggles, "sorry, she hit me first," demonstrating her point even as we speak -- "and though they get along very well and learn easily, it ends up being like a school classroom." Behind the glass wall, three anxious mothers watch the proceedings. "My daughter is my only child, and I want her to be free of all problems -- safe -- so that's why I come with her," Renee Ragheb, contestant Heba Sami's mother, justifies her presence. For Maha Kamel, the mother of contestant Raghda, participation in the pageant is a kind of compensation for her own abortive career as a movie star, which ended on her marriage after one film: "I'd love my daughter to continue what I started." Despite their being "kind of strict", Ramadan's parents were the ones who entered her name in the competition. "I believe my daughter could become Miss Egypt -- she is bold, beautiful and has always had a leader's personality. She may well represent girls of her age," Iman Helmi, Ramadan's mother, exhorts. While mothers are inevitably biased, it is the discerning eye of designer Hisham Abul-Ela, who is dressing the girls up in collaboration with Lebanese designer Gobran, that will more accurately determine success. "I have to say I am surprised, I expected more model-like bodies," Abul-Ela says, "but anyway, they are not so bad." Pointing to different girls, he explains how, while some have lovely faces and bodies that are not up to standards, others have the opposite problem. Not one, he insists, is perfect. As the day nears, together with fellow organiser Youssef Sebahi, Abu Shaar is focussing more and more on exposing the girls to possible discussion topics. Following a "video sessions" intended to familiarise them with former world beauty pageants, Abu Shaar is listening to contestants answer questions he believes the judges might ask. "There are things you should avoid, like politics and religion," he lectures them. "Try to make your answers short, avoid babble. And if you don't know the answer, just say so. Don't take risks." Questions like "who is your role model", "what have you learned from your parents" or "what do you know about women's rights" spur interesting arguments among some contestants while others remain silent. "They are still pretty young," Abu Shaar explained. "From my experience planning the Miss Egypt beauty pageant since 1998, it's very well possible they'll know what to say but not know how to say it. At the end of the day this will be on air -- we don't want people to criticise or make fun of them." With the exception of last year's pageant (which was aired live on a satellite TV channel), since they were first held in 1987, local beauty contests have been organised discreetly with minimal media attention. This year, with even better advertising and more valuable prizes (a mini-cooper car, an apartment, a cash prize and the crown), full media coverage is to be expected. "The criteria for choosing the contestants have always been the same," Abu Shaar says, "but this year we are creating episodes on the Melody Music Channel to acquaint the audience with the contestants early on. We also have a 'confession chair' in which each girl will be talking freely about herself..." Following the SMS voting mania that spread across the Arab world after Star Academy drove millions of Arabs to choose their favourite star by SMS, for the first time in the history of the contest SMS will account for 25 per cent of the total Miss Egypt Pageant vote. For the past two months, contestants have desperately juggled their time attending university classes, keeping up with choreography classes and video sessions. On 15 April, they will relocate to a hotel in preparation for the big day. On 16 April the 24 contestants will parade their cocktail dresses and evening gowns, and according to the viewers' votes, only 12 will make it to the finals on 19 April. "We believe this will be fair to the girls," Abu Shaar goes on, "and people will judge them not only on their looks but on their ability to talk."
