Bikini Girl a symbol of passion that characterizes politics

By DAVEEN RAE KURUTZ Columnist

She stood at the edge of Carnegie Mellon University’s campus last Wednesday, in the middle of… She stood at the edge of Carnegie Mellon University’s campus last Wednesday, in the middle of a Forbes Avenue sidewalk. Traffic was at a standstill heading toward town, and the beeping of horns could be heard anywhere within a mile radius of the campus.

She shivered, all the while keeping a smile on her face. Surely she has a name, but to those who passed by the intersection of Morewood and Forbes avenues, she is simply “The W Bikini Girl.”

Clad in a skimpy, red-white-and-blue bikini, a pair of white high heels, a beige trench coat and a smile, she stood, trench coat wide open, showing everyone traveling the avenue her voting preferences scrawled across her well-toned stomach — a large W in gold body paint.

Bikini Girl was just one of the handful of protesters who spent a cool, crisp fall afternoon on the Oakland sidewalks. While modest in numbers, their message was well broadcast. The group supported President George W. Bush — that much was certain, even to those looking out from the windows of the buses lining Forbes Avenue. From simple signs reading “Bush/Cheney ’04” to Bikini Girl’s walking billboard, their message was a simple one: Vote Bush.

Their group was the smaller of the two present that afternoon. Stretching to South Craig Street, approximately four blocks away, the line of Kerry supporters was more raucous than their Republican counterparts. They took to the street, jumping the median barriers separating the crowd from those driving out of town. They walked down the center of the left lane, showing disregard for any oncoming traffic.

The Kerry supporters were not limited to the sidewalk. Trucks and cars drove by the scene with paint on their windows displaying their drivers’ political beliefs and boisterous fans leaning out the windows, calling to those holding Bush-Cheney signs.

The Bush fans responded in kind, yelling and cheering back. But no other protester or supporter drew the amount of attention on that stretch of road as Bikini Girl did. Every car that drove past, every male pedestrian who crossed her path, was another reason for her to throw open her trench coat and display her personal billboard, as if she were one of Barker’s Beauties on “The Price is Right,” presenting a new car.

People were drawn to her. Horns honked; supporters catcalled. Someone went too far, and an argument erupted. Signs went flying and yells could be heard over the horns.

Finally, someone stepped between Bikini Girl and a dark-haired young man, separating them. But they kept yelling inaudible insults at each other. A few minutes passed, and, located at the other end of the handful of protesters, Bikini Girl continued to showcase her W.

That argument was only one of many that afternoon; it was only one of the millions that have gone on this month as the election nears.

The election has caused deep divisions. Friends have been put at odds, and strangers have been alienated.

A few weeks ago, a woman named Meryl sat down with me, a Republican. Meryl, a staunch Democrat, is a political activist who protested the Henry Kissinger lecture last month and attended the Kerry rally last week.

She and I began to innocently discuss politics, but it turned into much more. Every issue I brought up, she had a rebuttal for; every flip-flop I suggested, Meryl disagreed with. Her uncle soon got involved, and what began as a friendly discussion ended with me walking away, frustrated with their inability to agree to disagree.

Passion is a part of politics — it is what makes a good politician and is what drives a majority of those who do “rock the vote” to get out there and do so.

But how far is too far? Is politics really worth putting a damper on a friendship? Is it worth displaying your body in support of a conservative candidate? Is it worth embarrassing yourself in front of a 61C filled with spectators, laughing at the scenes unfolding in front of them?

To use an overused phrase for this election year: You decide.

Daveen hates flip-flops, especially after the end of summer. Share your thoughts with her at [email protected].