frustrating trying to talk to her, and now she wants my help?
Heads nod, and Millie relents, turning the lights back on. “Miss Rice, you have the floor,” she grumbles.
I step to the front of the room, trembling. It’s not like I’ve never given a speech, nor shared my opinion in a dramatic way. You don’t lead the world to victory in Model UN by being a wallflower. But those situations are always fake, simulations with no real consequences. No debate has ever been as important as this.
“Well, um…” I gracefully start, looking to Joy for guidance. She nods at me, giving me a small smile of encouragement. My heart pinches with nerves as I dive right in. “My first thought is this outfit seems really impractical. Chicago winters don’t lend themselves to wearing glorified swimsuits outdoors. Plus, it seems hard to fight in. I mean, over-the-knee high-heeled boots? Who can run in those?” Joy flashes an approving grin, so I continue. “I know you all sell a lot of licensed costumes; there will be little girls and boys who want to dress up as Girl Power, so maybe we can find a cut that is less sternum-driven? Also, pink is a little obvious, and sexist, honestly. What about blue? It would go with her eyes. Plus, it’d be a nice homage to whom she’s replacing.”
This generates a lot of chatter. “But what do you think about the name—Girl Power?” asks a man to my right.
“It’s…a little cheesy,” I admit, cringing. “But I can already see the headline: Girl Power Saves the Day!”
A man sitting next to Joy is not appreciative of my feedback. “Aqua Maiden generates tons of buzz on her social every time she posts a bathing suit photo,” he observes. “That was the direction we were going with here.”
“Yeah, but those are personal photos, not on-the-job action shots,” I say without missing a beat, envisioning the images in question. “I mean, sure, her hot poolside pictures practically break the internet, and good for her, but that is not what she fights in. She still has a super suit that gives her the support she needs to kick ass.”
There’s more murmuring, but I’ve yet to sway everyone. “Listen, little lady, launching a female superhero is very complicated,” my opponent sneers, folding his arms. “How a woman looks will affect the way she’s ultimately received.”
Oh, barf, because what this conversation really needs is some mansplaining about female image. Time for me to wrap this up, debate team–style. “Funny, though, how you don’t ask Vaporizer or Earthquake to fight topless in the snow, or cut holes in their suits to show off their muscles. The public loves these heroes not because of what they’re wearing, but because doing good deeds and saving the day is inherently attractive. They love them for who they are and what they do.”
“Yes, but—”
“Look, heroes can dress however they want, because what’s sexy is confidence. The Warriors need to feel good. Unstoppable. Their super suits are meant to enhance their power and protect them in battle. Would you want to do your job with half a butt cheek hanging out?”
His face reddens. “No, but I’m not a hero.”
“Well, Joy is. And clearly she’s uncomfortable with this direction. It has to be about what she wants, not what a focus group says. She’ll be the one out there doing the work, so she needs a look that makes her feel strong. Fearless. Ready to demolish her enemies and exude Girl Power during every second of every battle.”
Roy is back on his feet applauding, but this time the room joins him, smiling faces persuaded by my words. I did it! I can’t believe it! Even Joy seems thrilled by what I said, and suddenly the executives are coming up to me one by one.
“Those were some very astute observations regarding the merchandising,” one says. “Have you ever considered a career in marketing?”
“I—”
“Or design?” another chimes in. “You have a good eye for details.”
“Thank you, I—”
“Claire, I really loved your speech. Congratulations!” Suddenly Mr. Know-It-All himself is shaking my hand, turning my arm to jelly. “How lucky we are to have such a brilliant new mind on the team!”
A former hero, congratulating me?! I’m now out of words until the end of time.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Millie calls out, silencing the clamor. “It appears we have a lot of work to do. Let’s get to it.” Before ushering the suits out, she stops at my side to say quietly, “Nice