I am not a pageant girl. Technically by title I am now, but I'll never identify as a beauty queen. This past year I participated in my first ever pageant for the local title of Miss Durham USA, and I won. I was proud when I was crowned, and I couldn't wait to start making public appearances and getting exposure around Durham, North Carolina.
But there was a catch; winning the title of Miss Durham advanced me to the Miss North Carolina USA competition, which was a whole new ballgame. At the state level, I competed against girls who had been doing pageants their whole life. Essentially, I was like a JV high school baseball player being thrown into the Major League. I knew my competition was going to be stiff, and I spent seven months preparing to compete against these women. I exhausted myself with hundreds of hours fundraising, getting sponsors, practicing interview questions, and learning how to actually be a beauty queen.
I felt ready to win the crown, that is until I walked into my first pageant coaching session. Up until this point, I would have considered myself a very confident person. I felt attractive, but more importantly, I felt secure in my own skin. Yet, I left my first of seven coaching sessions in tears because it was made abundantly clear to me that I was not good enough to win. I was informed my teeth were too crooked, my nose was too big and I was too fat. The worst part was I was told, that unless I lost nearly 30 pounds, I should not even bother trying to compete.
So, for the next seven months I obsessed over everything I ate. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that in the final month of preparation I did not eat a single thing. I actually survived off of maple syrup and lemon juice for 20 days straight. What is even scarier about this is that on the day of the pageant I weighed the same amount as my 12-year-old sister.
I know now, that standing on that stage at Miss North Carolina I should have felt like a queen. In all seriousness, that may have been the peak level of beauty which I will ever obtain. I certainly promise I will never wear that much makeup again. However, parading my body in a skimpy bikini in front of 5,000 people made me feel degraded and insecure.
While I did not win the title, I did place in the Top 10. I beat over sixty seasoned pageant professionals and that was a victory in itself. After the competition, I was bombarded with congratulatory messages from everyone I knew. It is only because of my massive support system that I was able to recover and begin rebuilding my confidence once more. I will never compete in a pageant again, because no matter how many people told me I was beautiful, it only took a few words to destroy my self-esteem.
The most important lesson I learned throughout this process was simple: the only person who could validate my beauty was me. I realized that my confidence relied solely on the way I looked, not on my inner qualities. I will never let my daughter do pageants because beauty should not be judged on how hot someone looks in a swimsuit. We say that feminism has progressed, yet there are still the existence of beauty pageants like this. So, to women everywhere, stop wagering your confidence on your appearance. Value more about yourself then how you look because sometimes, the most beautiful women are the most insecure.
