Brónagh Diamond: Who would want to be an American sweetheart anyway?

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Brónagh Diamond is a writer and stand-up comedian from west Belfast. Her podcast 'Word up' is released every Saturday

I decided to take a break from watching documentaries about murder, and so for some levity while unwell, I spent a weekend binge-watching two seasons of a Netflix series called America's Sweethearts: Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders.

After all, it had the word 'cheer' in the title, so I figured the dynamic world of pom-poms and high kicks would be just the tonic.

The show offers a tongue-in-cheek peek into the journey of becoming a member of one of the most iconic squads who entertain massive crowds during American football matches.

If football is akin to religion in the States, I imagine these are the altar girls.

The film starts by highlighting how these hopefuls are critiqued on every tiny detail. Imagine ballet auditions on steroids, with two matriarchal non-ballerinas in control of who gets the job.

In order to be chosen, these women must not only have perfect form and impeccable athletic training but possess an impressive educational background.

The reason given for this requirement is that the Cowgirls want to be renowned for having the most well-rounded and established girls in their huddle - which gives a sort of absurd finishing school vibe for masochists.

However, it would seem that these hard-working women best fit the mould due to the fact that they must also hold down full-time employment elsewhere, because they aren't paid enough to survive solely on their wages from the multi-million-dollar corporation for whom they work through literal blood, sweat and tears.

I couldn't help thinking: why do they all need to be outstanding in an academic field just to go out standing in a field?

All the talk of 'arabesque', 'plié' and 'chassé' during the gruelling selection process when, in fact, it all boils down to 'Now let's all go onto the pitch and see if y'all can kick your leg high'.

All observed under the eyes of the well-fed, balding male critic, whose profound declarations like "the back of her head is a bit bigger than the front" may be the deciding factor as to whether these professional athletes get the job.

And then there's the quirky costume fittings.

Candidates get measured for outfits before landing the gig, which may seem unlawful, but God love Texas for finding a loophole that allows the team to rule out the fatties before game day.

It's a Texas-sized metaphorical hat tip to maintaining a uniform image, where individuality squares off against sequinned symmetry.

This satire doesn't stop at appearance - it delves into the great irony of treating these professional women like delicate art pieces where the social etiquette is a dance itself.

The film points out that being bold and opinionated, like aspiring team leader Jada, is somehow more controversial than keeping silent. The cheer world isn't exactly a haven for free thought - it's more like a harmonious chorus line.

Adding to the colourful mosaic, there's the 'historic' selection of a black cheerleader to act as 'point' - a highly coveted position on the team.

However, as I saw in the first season, these girls are carefully blonde-ified to suit the squad's aesthetic. Somehow, achieving diversity here means stamping everyone from the same cookie cutter.

Contracts are not guaranteed renewal as they all must re-audition every year, meaning those who've gained a pound or seem tired are laid off with a pep-talk about how they aren't fully invested and blathering about how they need to do some "soul searching", rather than the higher-ups simply acknowledging that they want to replace them with a younger dancer who still has cartridge in her knees.

As the series comes to a close, we hear that the money-men agreed to give the cheerleaders a significant raise of up to 400%, after a long campaign by some of the 'veteran' dancers and an outcry from audiences the world over.

The downside to all of this being that the team members who campaigned for better pay will never benefit from it, given that they were either ostracised or in their final year anyhow.

As I listened to those beautiful, talented women crying over not being selected, and yearning for the sisterhood and structure of making the team, I wondered if they ever considered joining the military.

After all, at least they offer decent wages for marching in formation, minus the struggle of maintaining a sexy yet demure image and being told to "smile more".

At the end of the day; whether you watch true crime or a beauty pageant on the TV, the odds are good that Donald Trump could pop up in either.