high school madness: has one aspect of the timeless tradition turned too risqué?

First of all, let me start by saying that while this isn’t a hate piece, I do believe in the value of telling hard truths. As a woman from a family of mostly women, I do not believe that we benefit from tearing each other down, or passing judgement on our sisters in the egoic sense. And yet, in order to analyze or discuss any facet of life, words will inevitably be employed. And with words comes connotation: or as it was drilled into me during middle school vocab tests, “the feelings a word is associated with”. Thanks, Barbara Worth Junior High English Department!

Now, if we’re being honest with ourselves, things can get a little murky when defining the difference between facts and feelings–not only out loud for other people, but even in our own minds. Yeah, sure, some of you might have built your worldview around the concept that the two are entirely separate, but I invite you to consider the idea that they might actually be the same thing. For instance, you know how certain days of the week can just kind of feel different? 

According to an article published by a longstanding UK based research organization, The British Academy, documented changes in risk tolerance throughout the week might have something to do with that. And I bet some of you didn’t need to see a citation or read into any credentials to believe this phenomenon exists as a fact outside of a feeling. And yet, to those of you who did, there clearly exists peer-reviewed confirmation of even the most abstract sentiments out there. Feelings can, in fact, indicate facts before some facts become Facts.

Meaning, something facts and feelings have in common is that our relation to both of them revolves around the concept of receiving information. So I kindly ask you to consider the following commentary a think piece. Something to help us individually and collectively evaluate, reflect upon, and then visualize a higher timeline for all of us here in Imperial Valley. As humanity begins to take its first steps towards intentionally creating the things that–in our gut–we know are possible, I have a feeling that…

Words will be said–and you will probably have feelings. But I assure you, my friend, I come in peace. What I say is only information gathered from my neck of the woods; my coordinates on the multidimensional graph. I promise to be straightforward, but not to dwell on topics beyond what is effective. I promise to present ideas lightheartedly, but never to sugar coat the implications–it simply isn’t as helpful. And until now, what I’ve only heard whispered amongst community members year after year is…

Has the local cheer culture gotten too risqué?

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Due to sweeping changes made to hours of operation this fair season, the highly anticipated event in which teenagers go head to head in a test of grit, wit, and school spirit was to be held on what has since been referred to as Wacky Wednesday. Somehow I was bidding for Wumbology Wednesday, but that’s too niche a detour.

With two full days at school together to turn up the teenage angst, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised to see 50+ kids lined up at the ticket booth when I drove by over two hours before showtime.

By the time I got to the fairgrounds, so many other high schoolers had arrived that side street parking was completely taken up from the front entrance down to AutoZone. The atmosphere was hype, even from the far side of the main parking lot.

Once inside the stadium, I navigated police, Sheriff’s officers, event security, school administrators, media personnel, and technical engineers while an impressive round of Junior Fair Board reps (JFB) began introducing themselves like they had apprenticed under the actual host of the Hunger Games. The stands were jam packed with thousands of high schoolers and the roar that seemed to emanate beyond the City of Imperial itself could’ve rivaled Rome in its prime. These kids sure meant business.

The hosts moved along at a quick but comfortable pace, setting the tone for the entire night; and never before have I been more impressed with such an effortlessly efficient execution of High School Madness (HSM) than by the work of this year’s JFB. And I’ve had the pleasure of sitting in on a few of them since my own high school years…

The JFB moved on to set the stage for a rousing full-contact game of musical chairs. Participants wore distortion goggles and were made to spin around, and after a few incredible feats of athleticism, I too became emotionally invested in the outcome. I can’t remember who won exactly, but it was the one I wanted.

Much of the energy seemed to be concentrated in the El Centro and Holtville student sections, with Southwest High School ramping up as a close contender. Large, professionally printed banners and school branded merch saturated the stands (a far cry from the hand painted posters I remember), and the sheer amount of LED noisemakers alone made me wonder what it must’ve felt like to be Kendrick during this last Super Bowl LIX. Seriously.

So far, everything about 2025 has just felt bigger–perhaps like 2020, but in a way that feels more confident. And confidence, I would say, is largely a good thing. It helps us achieve seemingly impossible feats, like getting that dream job, starting that business, or even asking out that person you’ve been crushing on. Something which really did happen right before the start of the show, and took some guts to do in front of that many people, if you ask me.

[Video by Sarina E. Guerra]

This generation of young people is clearly not afraid to be themselves, and I love that for them. In my cohort of Millennials, I think collectively we were aware of our truths, but by virtue of being born at a time of great transition in the world, our true selves were buried further beneath the pressure of paradigms past, and the freshly realized generational trauma only made it harder to manifest these things outwardly. And again, I’m not judging one way or another–people grow and beliefs change, but what matters is that we’re doing so authentically.

Chanting brewed in the stands behind me and occasionally erupted into yelling matches reminiscent of lighthearted sibling rivalries. It’s always energizing to be surrounded by this kind of atmosphere, where so many people are present and participating in the exact same thing. It’s beautiful in a way that only real things are.

I looked over to my left from the media section, and I couldn’t help but laugh in the best way possible as I watched the Calipat drumline warm up with several rounds of hand clapping games. In my experience working with high schoolers around the Valley both as a writer and school photographer, the Hornets have always displayed a bit more wholesomeness than most. And I can relate. I too had forged a great many friendships while…

The group of what seemed to be legitimate best friends took to the stage and proceeded to put on a show. Their performance featured a trio of majestic cymbal players who, at one point, managed to high kick and crash with one leg in the air, while the kids on quints had some equally exciting solo moments. Later on, they incorporated choreography that made the hand clapping games make more sense.

Brawley Union High School cheer then took the stage, and I immediately thought to myself “Welp, the skirts are still short”. But not in a bad way, just in an honest way. They danced a hip heavy routine to classic Ciara hits, “Get Low” by Lil John & the East Side Boyz, and other songs that came straight out of my high school years. Things were a bit raunchy back then too though, and perhaps it’s just the age that doesn’t allow us to see the overt exploitation of female bodies and misappropriation of human sexuality in general quite yet. When you are born into a world already hypersexualized, the rest of your experiences become relative. There were some points where I even felt uncomfortable filming them because the choreography basically forced every functioning human eye to be caught by the bright blue of their bloomers.

Next up, the Calexico drumline assembled on stage and immediately jumped into action. The cadences spotlighted each section well; a signature of theirs, I think. And OMG their all-girl snare line never ceases to amaze me. I’m not sure how long that has been going on for, but it is always so damn awesome to see. The girls were super in sync, and did a great job hyping up the crowd before the first beat ever dropped. And then, they hit us out of nowhere with what seemed to be a cornstarch in the cymbal crash play. Epic.

I liked that the girls all did their hair the same way, and as I did inventory on the players I noticed that the CHS drumline was like 90% female overall. Go us!

[Video by Sarina E. Guerra]

When I first started in elementary band, I was immediately informed that playing on drumline was mostly for the boys. Every once in a while, you’d see a tomboy or two try to hang, but generally speaking they weren’t the stars of the show. Times have changed, and the teenage version of me that played bass drum and quads only on occasion was totally living for it. They put on a dynamic show with lots of formation changes, and surprised us all at the end by attempting literal gymnastics. Two cymbal players jumped atop the quads, sat on their shoulders, and kept crashing without missing a beat, while a couple of snare players hastily ditched their harnesses, launched into handstands, and kicked their legs around the neck of another player, utterly defying gravity while continuing to drum upside down. 

Between each performance, the JFB would set up and facilitate allergy inducing tug-of-war matches or various kinds of party games. Some were centered around who could snatch up Solo cups on command the quickest, while others awarded whatever team was first to fill pitchers with colored liquids squeezed out of car sponges. The challenges were pretty straightforward, and the recurring suspense kept the crowd on their toes ready to cheer on each new act that took the stage.

[Video by Sarina E. Guerra]

Next up was Central Union High School cheer. Bless their hearts, those girls came straight out the gate with a dance mix composed of big name female rappers like Megan Thee Stallion and Nicki Minaj, some reggaeton bangers, and essentially all things ratchet. According to Urban Dictionary (LOL) the word “ratchet” is slang for an aesthetic or attitude considered loud, aggressive, sexually forward, and let’s just say less-than-classy. Again, no hate. Ratchet is a vibe, and some people really do go for it. The girls did their thing for a while, and then it was over. They were confident and clearly had fun.

A large group of drummers in that signature royal purple readied themselves offstage, meaning Southwest High School would soon be stepping up to show off their school spirit. For some reason, SHS is often synonymous with super sick choreo (surprise, surprise) so someone in the music department there definitely deserves a raise. They threw in a few classic body rolls, a move that is exactly what it sounds like except harder because you have a 15-30 lb drum strapped to you, and managed to keep their timing clean and cohesive. The kids on quints definitely impressed, successfully executing complex riffs woven into the heavily syncopated cadences that produce that Southwest sound. Shoutout to the cymbals who kept it sassy, and the snare line whose stick work was finessed to perfection.

Right about now, the JFB and judges made their way around a row of human pyramids stacked six high and visibly struggling to be the last one standing. They’d been there a good while, and having exhausted themselves physically these kids were left to play the mental game. I can’t tell you who won there either, but I can say that watching emotional support captains spit-scream encouraging things at their friends like very kind Navy Seal drill sergeants is as hilarious as it is wholesome.

The show went on with Holtville High School cheerleaders bouncing into formation shortly after. The green uniform and red lipstick combo looked sharp as always, and the girls were super smiley as they threw a hip or two in time with what was surely the most bilingual dance mix of the evening. Not having visited Holtville very often over the years, I’m always shocked at how many Spanish speakers live there. Overall, HHS stunned while hitting their hairography marks like their lives depended on it.

Representing the mighty Tigers, the Imperial High School drumline was next to sit in the hot seat. IHS drumline has always had their own flair for things, taking a subtler, more concert-oriented approach to all aspects of marching band. For reference, they are consistently the only ones in the Valley to roll an entire auxiliary section onto the football field during halftime performances. Statistically, I think IHS also has more glasses wearers per capita–but don’t quote me on that! Their cadences felt more melodic than most, emphasizing the nuances of certain notes over the beat and producing low-key hitters for the musically inclined while crab stepping to perfection. 

More games ensued, and teens in bright red appeared on stage once more as IHS cheer stepped into the spotlight for their performance. I think it’s funny that so many of the songs I grew up with are still being played; almost like my generation’s hit anthems were the dying breath of a collective pop culture. Today’s kids were raised with the entire world at their fingertips–for better or worse. And frankly, I feel like that’s got a lot to do with the ongoing fragmentation and perhaps degradation of local youth culture. Now, I’m not in their shoes, so I can’t say for certain, but my guess is that without these universal hooks and emblematic personalities the kids are lacking a defining element of Class cohesion that we once enjoyed. The proliferation of independent artists, streaming services, and access to every recording created in the history of mankind will do that, apparently.

So anyways, the mix started with the iconic trumpet hook from the Black Eyed Peas 2005 hit “My Humps” and quickly morphed into “Ms. New Booty” by the Ying Yang Twins from around the same era. The squad even brought back the reggaeton phenomenon “Gasolina” by Daddy Yankee. Although, let’s be real…

The choreography matched the music in all the obvious ways, and factually speaking the mini skirts rode up so high that there was legitimately no point to wearing them. Nonetheless, the girls had fun and their student section was loud and proud the whole way through.

A small but enthusiastic band of Vikings stepped up to the plate next, delivering on personal style and creativity upon first glance. They kept it simple and let their three person bass line shine by showcasing moves that highlighted the advantages of a youthful lower back. Having once upon a time been a bass drummer myself, I can tell you firsthand that shit’s no joke. Towards the end, the kids went full send with the quads performing some sort of spin move at speeds that turned a regular band instrument into a would-be weapon of mass destruction. They closed by lying the bass drums on the floor and banging it like they were actual Vikings heading into battle. There was a brief moment where a couple of drummers essentially made love to their apparatus, but them being boys wearing loose jeans and a T-shirt certainly made the gesture a lot less jarring. Plus, I can’t say there wasn’t a similar trend during my years on drumline. Within band culture, the move is seen as more comedic than provocative, but it’s natural to wonder if that’s because the drummers who often gravitate towards it are exclusively male. 

Something called “The Shakedown” happened next, a game in which advisors from each school volunteered as tribute to make themselves look silly. But this is exactly why the students love them so darn much, and it showed. The kids completely lost their minds cheering for their chosen candidate. The actual goal of this game didn’t really matter much, but what it looked like without context was a game of who could convulse the most violently for the most sustained amount of time, without tapping out from embarrassment. And let me tell you, they did it. And I laughed my ass off. 

[Video by Sarina E. Guerra]

The Brawley Union High School drumline approached the stage after the hilarity and the tone change was palpable. Dressed in black from head to toe and wearing gator masks with a menacing wildcat stamped on the front, you could tell these kids were a different breed. I immediately thought to myself, “Man, their booster club must be stacked this year.” Those crisp, all-black drums and cases looked brand new too. And no, I’m not fan-girling just because! It really was a sight to see, especially compared to what we were working with in my years. Their bass section was finely tuned (something we never did quite achieve) and right off the bat I noticed the entire line was about three times as big. They had so many kids, ten of them were on cymbals! Which is both excessive and impressive.

[Video by Sarina E. Guerra]

Great job, Brawley! Love to see the health of our music program, and the resulting band geek population, restored to its former glory. Even when I was at BUHS, longtime teachers and returning students would reminisce on the Wildcat marching band’s “good ol’ days”. Still, being a part of a C+ average band of benign “slackers”, as Mrs. Dailey would say, provided me with some of the best memories of this lifetime. HSM being one of them. And now, this collective memory would be imprinted on a new generation of kids tasked with passing down a love for the community that raised us. 

[Video by Sarina E. Guerra]

So yeah, Brawley’s drumline was cool man. Their performance was dramatic and definitely inspired by sources outside the valley. I mean, these kids have access to so much high-quality content online. In my day, all we had was Drumline–a 2002 romcom starring Nick Cannon pre-turban. And no, I did not not take any fashion inspo from him by the way.

Calexico High School cheer squad followed and was successfully able to capitalize on a crowd that somehow managed to only get louder. They had a large group as always, and wore their hair down over their long sleeve uniforms. Their mix featured timeless reggaeton hits with a dash of the always-in-style Missy Elliot, while their routine was one part hairography and two parts, well…

I have tried to avoid using this word to describe what was done on stage as much as possible, but there are only so many other ways to put it. Give me some credit here, I went a full 3,000+ words without saying it! According to Wikipedia, twerking as a dance form originated in African and Caribbean cultures, and became popular in New Orleans during the 1990s. Perhaps, one could say they were simply passionate about this year’s Mardi Gras theme.

Although this story is a bit longer than I originally intended, the JFB made sure the show never felt as if it dragged on. The kids cleared the stage and mascots representing each alma mater made their way over to the competition area. Since 2011, LMFAO’s club hit “Sexy and I Know It” has been the backdrop for pep rallies and mascot dance battles Valley-wide and this smorgasbord was no exception. It was a chaotic blend of TikTok dances and lewd gestures (again, I’m not exactly sure how else to say it) and probably the only event in which the crowd’s energy would get lost or inconsistent. It was a bit of a miss, but not in any personal sort of way.

The El Centro schools closed out the night, with a penultimate performance by Southwest High School cheer. The “bend and snap” came a bit early in the routine for me, but by no means were they the only ones to do it. I saw some stellar smiles fit for the silver screen, and hairography that was just about good enough for Hollywood. Familiar Usher and Beyoncé tracks set the tone, and if you know the lyrics to the chorus on “7/11” let’s just say they did exactly that. These girls come from SAVAPA territory, so of course the choreography was good, but it could also be said that bending over that many times isn’t exactly an art form?

Look, I’m trying to be respectful here. Imagine me in my position, and the task at hand. Is there really any way to win in this? I’m hoping that if you’ve made it this far, you’re not just doing so out of hate. And if you are, why? I’m just another person with an opinion on the internet–imagine the people who think worse (in all ways) and never say anything.

Last to compete but certainly not least, the Central Union High School drumline. They were welcomed on stage with the kinds of screams you hear when you watch old footage of the Beatles back in their prime. The Great Central Spartan Band has always had some seriously die-hard fans. The cadences came on strong, but the stick clicks that stuck around past step-off allowed just enough space for the rhythmic story to go somewhere. Their choreography made the stage feel small in a way, like it was meant for a football field with lots of room to “scatter”. Their baseline was groovy, all three quints were crazy, and the Spartan Shuffle went off as usual.

And with that, the judges got to judging.

I turned around from my vantage point near the stage to see a crowd that was raging just as hard as when the competition first started. It’s true that this is probably one of the hallmarks of what it means to be a high schooler in Imperial Valley. It’s a core memory that so many of us share, even if we don’t quite remember what year such and such happened. The individual files of High School Madness memories in my brain seem to just kind of merge together, living behind a singular essence of nostalgia, hometown pride, and mild hearing damage that can still be felt to this day. The tradition crosses cultures and townships, grade levels and cliques, and has remained a staple in our rural community for as long as I’ve been alive. It shows us the best and worst qualities of modern adolescence on stage for all to see, with overwhelming joy superseding the brief but undeniable moments of uncomfortability along the way.

I left the arena before the winner was announced, mainly because I wanted to beat the crowd and get a corndog. It was both overpriced and delicious. On the way out to the parking lot, I overheard a few kids saying that Southwest ended up as champions but the news hardly registered. I was too busy processing the implications of what I had just witnessed.

I thought back on my own life and replayed all the ways I had been unknowingly oversexualized in college, but perhaps in high school too. Even as a quiet bookish kid in marching band. I thought of how it could be said I did that to myself, but how was I supposed to know? Everything about the world encourages young women to give in to the wants and needs of others, especially men, in order to be noticed and then to get ahead. I thought about how, even in adulthood as a staff writer for Imperial Valley Press, people out on the field would address me differently and take me more seriously on the days I wore heels and a full face of makeup. And probably not intentionally–perhaps subconsciously.

The commodification of female beauty has chipped away at the sacredness of love and vandalized the most private parts of ourselves. It obliterates self-esteem before girls ever turn thirteen, and sadly, has taken precious lives. This insidious standard of self-worth has attempted to displace human divinity and overwrite our universal sovereignty in the name of something you can buy, but no longer. Darkness ceases to exist the moment it is exposed to the light, and we are blessed to live in an age where sinister forces are finally being confronted in very public ways across the board.

From New York to Los Angeles and beyond, public figures, brands, and corporations that were once adored are now facing legal repercussions and public scrutiny for the unthinkable acts they have committed against humanity, and especially our young people. And the least helpful thing we can do as adults in our society is blame the kids for processing this collective trauma out loud. Pop culture is rife with sexual imagery and perverse ideology in obvious ways, as well as veiled one and… 

In recent years, the music and entertainment industry has been rocked by allegations of sexual misconduct and outright abuse, with names like R. Kelly, P. Diddy, and the beef between Kendrick and Drake seemingly on everyone’s mind at some point. These are, of course, more extreme examples of what hypersexualization can look like, but they represent relatable moments in pop culture fresh enough that we can still see and feel their impact in our day to day lives. Before now, these things could hardly be discussed in broad daylight, and abusers in tight circles were likely to hide in plain sight. 

Now firmly in a post-Me Too society, we stand amidst the rubble of broken families, a crisis of meaning, and social issues that reflect both. Those of us in a position to impact our community in a positive way must accept that the only way out of this mess is through it. And it is with this in mind that the difficult decision was made to go ahead with this story after all. At the center of my concern was the girls first and foremost, and how, by showing video of them in these positions, some people might say we are perpetuating the problem.

Every step of the way, I tried my best to avoid capturing the most provocative parts of the routine (IKR) and as a matter of fact, I only took a few seconds of footage at a time for each group because I didn’t think having that kind of content online for all to see was in the girls’ best long term interests. And every time I thought I had found a safe and respectful angle to film from, they would bend over or otherwise land their lady bits smack dab in the middle of my screen. The objectification was somehow unavoidable. 

In the end, I okayed the video that probably brought you here knowing full well that other news outlets like Valley Sports Network and 760 News Media had already published far more extensive footage of their own, although not in any sort of malicious way. My colleague Justin and I went back and forth to no end about what clips to cut or include before I finally came to the conclusion that the video should be shown exactly as the performance was experienced. In that way, what you saw (also linked below) was true to the highest ethical degree. 

In the age of the internet, I believe we should be cautious of the things we upload. Both with footage of ourselves and of other people. Although worldwide connectivity has become normalized in recent decades, it’s still very much the Wild West. And now with AI and deep fakes on scene, the stakes are even higher. Such content leaves a digital footprint across broad swaths of time and space, and once it’s out there, you as an individual essentially have no control. You never really know just who is watching, and why. 

So what do we do about this?

I don’t believe talking about problems like this without offering solutions is helpful, nor is blaming coaches and coordinators for everything either. They grew up with the same songs, music videos, and were themselves taught by adults as well. Yet, because they are in a position of power to be able to determine dance mixes and routines for students, they naturally assume a particular responsibility. And look, let me break it down for you. I have seen events like this before, with choreography and videography just as concerning, but what prompted me to write this think piece more than anything was the fact that several cheer performances featured the Superbowl LIX smash hit and earth shattering diss track “Not Like Us” by Kendrick Lamar—you know, the one where he takes shots at rapper Drake for being one of the industry’s “certified pedophiles”?

Still, more than one adult thought it was okay for these underage girls to get on stage and basically strip tease to the absolutely lethal line that goes “tryna strike a chord and it’s probably A minorrrrrr”…

[Video by People’s Press TV]

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