I’ve been a cosplayer for six years now. What was once a community focused on having fun and showing off your nerdiness has become a contest of who modeled best. Who’s the prettiest? Heroes of Cosplay tells us, in mainstream TV, that cosplay is catty, that cosplay is all about this harshness.

I was told that cosplayers would judge me for my weight. For my posture. For the threads that were visible on my bodice.

But I decided this summer I would ignore all those warnings. I decided this summer to test the waters.

I entered my first cosplay competition. And I don’t regret it at all.

Matsuricon in Columbus, Ohio: I decided to go to a convention with some friends and found myself wandering around most of the weekend.

I decided a few days before the convention I was going to enter what’s known as the “Masquerade”. A fancy name for the cosplay contest.

I was nervous as I printed out all of my reference images but I was proud too. Something I made from scratch was going to be on stage for everyone to see! It was exciting and nerve-wracking.

10:15 a.m. It was time for me to go into judging. I was shaking, and the fact my uncoordinated butt was in heels didn’t help.

And to my surprise, there was no biting tone to the judges words. They didn’t question my weight or my threads visible on my dress, they asked me what inspired me. They asked me why I chose the fabrics I chose. They asked me the techniques I used to make my top.

I walked, well, stumbled, out of judging with a huge smile on my face. I had a few hours to wait before the contest walk-ons, and I got myself a bite to eat and hung out with my friends.

When it came time to walk on stage that night though, of course everything had to go wrong. A piece of my hoop skirt tore through my lining fabric, meaning my skirt looked more like a tear drop than a hoop.

Instead of laughing, like I assumed everyone would, people helped me fix it. I sat with people in our waiting area, and I just talked. We all did. About our cosplays, about our lives. We taught each other tricks in the hour we spent together. In that moment, we weren’t competitors, we were friends.

The bitterness I saw on Heroes of Cosplay faded away. I got up and walked on stage proud. Head held high, confident in myself.

One, two, three, pose. One, two, three, pose. One, two, three, pose. Exit to your left.

Of course, I had to rush it. Barely standing still for a second for each pose. My nerves got the better of me. But the kind cosplayers next to me encouraged me. They told me I did amazing, they saw I was nervous and instead of my fears of ridicule, they were supportive.

I didn’t win. But that wasn’t the point. I walked out of there with a smile. Later on, I realized I met two of my cosplay idols (Geek In The Machine and LimitlessDisguise). They were some of the people supporting me during this contest. These popular cosplayers, who I thought I’d never even get to meet, let alone share a stage with, were there. Supporting me. Cheering everyone on.

The myth of the cosplay contest was shattered to me that day. One contest changed the way I viewed cosplay forever.

Is there still problems in cosplay contests? Of course. The stuff on Heroes of Cosplay can’t just be made up, and those attitudes permeate in any culture, especially those based on outward appearance and where judges are involved.

But it isn’t all bad. There’s kindness within these contests that no one sees, because everyone assumes all contests must be the same as the lies they’re told on T.V.

I left that convention knowing that one day, I’d go back on stage. I’d try again. A week later I did. Got back on stage with my friend and we killed it. We didn’t win then either, but you know.

I think I’ll keep entering contests. Winning isn’t the important part of them. It was that feeling of pride. Walking on stage in something that I made from scratch with the world watching.

Appreciating.

With my idols by my side.