Girls' Appreciation Night

I'm just going to get something off of my chest. This post is dedicated to the women of Intervarsity Christian Fellowship at UCSD during 1998-2003.

Once upon a time, in 2001 to be exact, Behlo and I had an idea. We wanted to throw a party for the women in Intervarsity at UCSD. We were motivated to do so because the women in Intervarsity had voiced complaints of their oppression as women for the past 3 years and we wanted to simply alleviate their pain. So, we planned, we brainstormed, we sought advice, we pursued our goal of making women feel simply appreciated.

The idea took off. The more we sought guidance, the more men started to join our cause. We raised enough funds to reserve a venue at UCSD. We had more ideas flowing in than we could possibly accommodate. With the eventually male committee that formed, we decided a live band was needed, no matter what else we did. More men joined in the cause. We introduced musicians to each other and they began to practice in the garage at our house. The committee decided we needed to schedule the event during the evening, which meant we needed to provide dinner. We recruited more men, raised more funds, and secured a caterer to feed 100+ women for the event.

We were eventually forced to organize the "Girs' Appreciation Night" committee into 3 tiers: Tier 1 included all coordinators of each branch of operations (President, VP, Secretary, Treasurer, Representatives), Tier 2 included all heads of departments for evening events (MC, dinner host, decorations supervisor, sound tech), Tier 3 included all leaders in charge of 5-6 men required to provide any service to the women during the event (waiters, security, restroom guards [males banned from male restrooms], transportation providers).

We had more men than we knew what do to with. I had no idea so many men were willing to simply serve and appreciate all women. But we had so many good ideas that we begged our male volunteers for funds to fulfill our goals. Our final plan came to a consensus two months prior to execution: We would design and personally deliver formal invitations to attend a dinner to all women associated with Intervarsity. Every woman who has met, visited, sign up for, or contacted anyone we knew would be on the guest list and receive a formal invitation. The invitation would be white with silver embossed lettering. We asked them to arrive at 4:00pm, in formal attire, with a casual change of clothes.

Once we had our plans finalized, everything began to fall apart and come together at once. Our venue canceled. We booked another. Band members quit. We recruited others. Our caterer tried to reschedule. We changed our menu. In fact, in order to coordinate better services, we recruited female advisers and followed their advice during our Tier 1 meetings to better serve our attendees.

Finally, the day of the event came. All men were required to wear a dress shirt and tie, no exceptions. We had 40+ tables of women to serve. Each table had 3 men assigned to it (one waiter, one host, and one cleaner). It was a very formal event. There were no menus for dinner. Each waiter knew the dishes by heart. We served them anything and everything they wanted. In fact, I personally left the party to buy groceries for specific vegetarian requests (which we neglected to consider). No male was allowed to eat. Everything was donated.

During the dinner, the band (first of two that had practiced) played live music. Things were going well. I was wearing a suit with a napkin wrapped over my right arm, watching all of the women enjoying the fruit of our labor. I smiled, very satisfied. The first band continued through playing their set far beyond the time we estimated for the women to finish their dinner and dessert. Behlo asked the second band to start their set early. The live dancing music commenced, and all hell broke loose.

If you would've looked at me during the first song of the second band's set, you would've seen my right eye twitch in convulsion, my lips go flat with straight small whiteness, and my head tilt as if I were a dog listening to baby talk. The first song of the second band was "Brown Eyed Girl", which was re-orchestrated by our musical male geniuses, who decided to substitue "brown" during the chorus to "blue", "green", and "hazel" in order to accommodate all of the eye color we could. In fact, every song in the set was re-written covers with a dancing beat [listen to "Brown Eyed Girl" by Smash Mouth for comparison]. I have never heard so many women "bbbbooooooo" so loudly in my life as during this first song. We planned this lyrical change, in the committee. I didn't understand. We all wanted them to be appreciated. Before they could recover, the all-male band stopped playing, completely humiliated, and started playing the next song in their set. Our drummer was awesome. The women started dancing again.

During this time, the men cleared the tables. We cleaned the dishes. We returned the utensils, napkins, tablecloths, center pieces, rose pedals, mints, chairs, folding tables, leftovers, and "lost and found" items to their places. Single, college-aged women were outrageously dancing in formal attire in front of us, but we were entirely focused on merely appreciating them. Giving them, without cause or strings, simple affection, fondness, admiration. We had given hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars for this night. We simply wanted these women to know they were loved for who they were.

The night moved fast. The second band's set was over just before we finished cleaning everything out of the venue. We gathered the women inside. According to table numbers, we assigned women into teams of 4-6. Every team had a male driver. Every team also had a male photographer, equipped with a video camera that us men begged for, borrowed, bought, and stole from relatives. The women were going on an all-expense paid scavenger hunt throughout San Diego county.

We gave them a map, with cryptic clues. The locations were spread throughout San Diego county. Each location had a different task to complete. Every location gave a gift to each member of each team. A florist we hired to stay open late and give a rose to every woman who showed up. A Coldstone ice cream shop who gave free cones to all women who loudly sung their jingle in their shop. A homeless man who gave out gift-certificates to women who performed a Chinese Fire Drill at their corner. Every stop was a gift. Over a dozen stops. All of it was on video.

The highlight of my college career was on this night. The final task of the scavenger hunt (and the reason for the spare change of clothes) was driving to Scripps beach. The scavenger hunt required all members of each team to fully submerse themselves in the ocean while dressed in their formal attire. I have never laughed so hard in my life. Imagine six formally dressed women in their best dress, heals, makeup, and hair running in full sprint across the beach into the open ocean water at night. They screamed in terrified fun, they tumbled laughing, they squealed in hesitance and were dragged in. It was awesome.

After they completed the scavenger hunt locations/tasks, they had to drive to our house. The first prize team recieved $100 gift cards each. The second place received $50 gift cards. The third was $25. The fourth $10. The fifth $5. However, every girl who completed the night received a gift bag filled with bath products, shower gels, lotions, various perfumes, gift cards, and flowers. All funds were donated by men. I personally gave $400.

The events of the entire night were funded by hundreds of men and thousands of dollars donated. We put every penny and every second to use. At the end of the night, I remember watching the girls watch their videos of the scavenger hunt at our house, and... well, have you ever been absolutely awestruck by something in the presence of someone else? We, Behlo and I, shared that look. Satisfaction. A few nods. A slight smile, but an absolute joy.

Aaahhhh, God!!!! This memory is so bitter sweet for me. The night ended. And, this sucks, but it was never heard of again. None of the men who participated and donated ever received a "thank you" (at least not to my knowledge). The cries of oppression from women continued without even a hiccup for the next three years. The only responses to our "Girls' Appreciation Night" were complaints. The music was bad. The scavenger hunt was too difficult. The food was bad. The service was stupid and ridiculous. The slideshow of women was not inclusive enough. The video was poorly recorded.

Throughout my entire college career of '98-'03, no activity for men was organized. There was no "Guys' Appreciation Night". There wasn't even a thank you. I am absolutely proud of what I did. I now know what wedding coordinators do. :) But I think about this event sometimes. I wonder what it means. I don't know, I guess I just needed to tell the story.