When I found out that I was going to be a Homecoming queen candidate a couple of weeks ago, I did the first thing I imagine most girls would do: I called my mom. Her response was one for the ages.

“Hey Mom, how are you?”

“I’m doing just fine, how are you?”

“I’m good … Guess what I just found out a few minutes ago?”

“What’s that?”

“Well,” (insert excited pause here) “I’m going to be representing Honors as a Homecoming queen candidate.”

(Insert shocked pause here.)

“Oh Jenny, please tell me you’re not going to dress like a hippie.”

I imagined myself on the football field in my long orange skirt, favorite blue sweatshirt and brown flats. Naturally, I thought I would look good, but, for her sake, I discarded the idea.

I assured her that I would try my best to look classy, and though I don’t think she was convinced, our conversation went along as any other mother-daughter Homecoming queen candidate conversation would go: lots of questions from her, and lots of promises to find answers from me.

What does a candidate do that day? What do you do that week? So, if you’re named Homecoming queen, what does that mean? When do I need to come to Bowling Green? Do you have the right clothes for everything?

Five questions, five honest I-don’t-knows.

Followed by more questions, and more I-don’t-knows.

As the inquiry continued for a bit longer, I began to realize that despite growing up in a culture in which the tradition of having a Homecoming queen was almost as much of staple of American life as Thanksgiving dinner, I didn’t understand it one bit. Even after being chosen as a candidate- a huge honor in and of itself (can you see me blushing?)- I find myself searching for the answer to every culture critic’s question: What’s the point of having a Homecoming queen?

Before this semester started, if you would have asked me to run for Homecoming queen, I would have laughed at the thought because in my mind, being a candidate required certain qualities that I certainly did not have. I was not in a sorority, I did not wear or own pearls, I did not have pretty hair-sprayed curls, I did not wear heels, and I had never been to a tanning bed.

But now that I am a candidate and I have met the other 20 women who will be standing beside me on the field at halftime on Saturday, I have found that this is not the case at all.

Being a Homecoming queen candidate is much, much more than the shoes on your feet or the shine in your hair.

If anything, from what I’ve gathered, it’s about caring.

These women simply care.

They care about Western; they care about others; they care about having a meaningful, unique impact on the world through their own lives.

Though straightforward, I think that’s the heart of the Homecoming queen tradition: it exists simply to honor women who, in different ways, have shown that their heart is as big as their smiles.

Does that answer your question?

Reach Jennifer Dooper at diversions@chherald.com.