Tall and Tan and Young and Lovely.

While in India this past January, I witnessed on television the height of Western cultural imperialism. And that height, it turns out, is five feet six inches (or, more precisely, 167.5 centimeters).

That's how tall a young woman must be, minimum, to enter the Miss India contest. Never mind the fact that Indian women, on average, stand at five foot two and, therefore, the winner and various runners-up--who will go on to represent India in the Miss Universe, Miss World, and Miss Asia Pacific pageants--will appear strikingly unrepresentative of their country. And never mind that only three routes exist for a woman of India to reach or exceed this internationally approved minimum altitude requirement: Western diet, partial Western ancestry, or atypical genetic endowment. Clearly, there are those who believe that, if India is to secure its rightful place in the family of nations, its people will have to stand tall.

But the issue doesn't end there. Vinita Deshmukh, writing in the January 23, 1999, New Indian Express, adds that, after a woman becomes a contest finalist, the behind-the-scenes "experts" commence to further enhance her "unIndianness" by thoroughly making her over:

   Your limbs, hips and waist go for a trimming process through exercise and
   gymnasium regimens. Your diction, your attire, everything is moulded in a
   way that you acquire universal (read Western) appeal. Remember, you have to
   show off your thin arms, expose those lanky legs and reveal your recently
   chiselled shoulders in a way so graceful and natural that the platform of
   international beauty pageants becomes a cakewalk for you.

      And of course, you are taught to give impromptu replies that blend
   philosophy with ultramodernity to show that you are a woman of
   substance.... In short, you are forced to look beautiful apparently as per
   the dictates of some international marketing requirements.

It should come as no surprise, then, that Indian contest winners from recent years --if the photos posted on the World Wide Web are an indication--all look suspiciously Western.

Then there's the color factor. India's population includes light-skinned Aryans, primarily in the north, and dark-skinned Dravidians, primarily in the south. That those of lighter complexion tend to be favored throughout Indian society is as obvious as the billboards that line the streets from Kashmir to Kerala, the celluloid stars who populate the Indian cinema, and the statuesque models who appear in advertisements placed in various domestically published magazines. Ditto for every one of the Indian beauty contest winners appearing on the Web.

Yet, as if to ensure that the focus will remain on this lighter side, suntan oil manufacturers are among the sponsors of international beauty competitions--a lifetime supply of their product being one of the prizes conferred on winners. The unstated expectation, it seems, is that all women who win, place, or show will be sufficiently melanin-deficient to actually need the oil (or at least be favor ably disposed toward the Western pastime of sunbathing--a thing that Indians as a group, despite having an awesome 3,500-mile-long coastline, simply aren't into).

So there they were: the twenty-nine finalists in the Palmolive Femina Miss India contest, gathered in Pune near Mumbai (the city formerly known as Bombay). Each had already won some lesser coveted title, such as Colgate Gel Miss Body Beautiful. But now--as they were sent across the stage in their make-up, jewelry, and designer outfits--they resembled assembly-line products to such an extent that the voiceover declaring that each was a would-be cultural ambassador for India didn't seem to go without saying. The abbreviated duration of the swimsuit competition was one of the few other indicators that I wasn't in Kansas anymore--since wearing swimwear in public in India is frowned upon as immodest. But, overall, the globalization of culture marched on: internationally standardized canons of physical allure strutting arm in arm with the objectification of women.

Of course, I'd long ago concluded that these types of pageants are bad enough when viewed from home. But seeing one elsewhere made their inherent prejudices and defects all the more glaring. Thus, my prior opinion--that those who run or promote these competitions are among the ethically challenged--stood stunningly reconfirmed.

Fred Edwords is the executive director of the American Humanist Association and editor of the Humanist.