Why I Don't Consider Myself a "Pageant Fan"

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Why I Don't Consider Myself a "Pageant Fan"

How to protect your mental health from hot picks and fandom noise

Aug 26, 2025

Each week, I share no-fluff pageant coaching that helps you win. Both on stage and off. After coaching titleholders in Miss Universe, Miss USA, Miss America, and 350+ pageant interviews, this isn’t theory. It’s what works.

Quick housekeeping: We’re in the middle of the launch for The Beginner’s Guide to Pageantry. If you want early access and daily chapter breakdowns, head to secretpageantbook.com for early access to the book and our private Facebook group.

Behind the Scenes of a Post That Lit a Fuse

Recently I posted about the so‑called Big Four in pageantry—Universe, World, Earth, and International. When I first entered the pageant world nearly a decade ago, I had no idea what “Big Four” even meant. An Australian titleholder told me to interview more queens from the Big Four and I genuinely thought she meant giant landmarks—Big Ben, the Big Banana (yes, that absurdly large Australian banana tourists pose in front of).

Who decided there are four? Should it be five? Six? Honestly—who cares. I rarely post about international pageantry because, frankly, I’m not that interested in it. I’m extremely specific about the kinds of pageants I follow and the kinds of women I want to interview and promote. International pageantry, as a whole, is not my cup of tea—and the aftermath of that post is a good example of why.

The moment you mention systems like Miss Earth or Miss International, the comments section lights up with the pageant fandom. This is why I always say I’m not a pageant fan. I don’t behave the way many of these “fans” do, and I don’t condone it. I’m a fan of certain women who compete and of certain parts of pageantry—the parts that actually empower: real advocacy, genuine education, actual skill-building. The walk and the pretty gowns? Lovely, but ancillary. Feeling amazing in a dress is great; it doesn’t change the world.

Under that Big Four post were the usual inane takes: slagging off a director, claiming one system is “irrelevant,” dictating what does or doesn’t count. None of it furthers the conversation. It’s just noise.

What I Hear When the Cameras Stop

I’ve conducted 350+ interviews with contestants from the US, UK, Australia, Canada, New Zealand, South Africa, the Netherlands, Denmark, Norway—you name it. What you see on camera is only half the story. After the recording ends, I usually end up talking just as long—often longer—off camera. That’s when I hear the things that still can’t be said publicly. They’re taboo, and the climate around certain topics makes people reluctant to speak up.

Scroll any heated post and you’ll notice a pattern: accounts with no profile photo, no content, zero followers—troll burners—lecturing others. One example: someone commented that Miss America should be mentioned among the big pageants because it’s the OG. I’ve interviewed many Miss America contestants and I love its scholarship model. Then a “pageant expert” jumped in: “Miss America isn’t international, it doesn’t count, you should know better.” That attitude is exactly the problem: gatekeeping from anonymous critics who have never stood on a stage or sat in a real interview.

Why I’m Selective About Systems

I don’t name‑and‑shame, but here’s why I’m so picky. A “relevant” new pageant—one some fans insist is the only one worth entering—has left two of my friends traumatized on back‑to‑back years. One friend had previously competed at Miss World and felt she could be friends with almost everyone there. At the “relevant” pageant, she felt she could be friends with no one. Shallow. Surface. Toxic.

Another friend returned from the same system the following year and used the word traumatized to describe it. Meanwhile, glossy websites and loud fan pages paint it as the second coming. This disconnect is why I keep my ear to the ground—not for gossip, but so when a client or friend asks, “What have you heard about X?” I can steer them away from landmines.

On more than one occasion, someone has come to me absolutely buzzing about a system because of the marketing, only for me to share what I’ve heard firsthand: interviews used to berate contestants for more money after a sponsor fell through; promises to sponsors (like being featured in the program) that didn’t materialize until months after the pageant; contestants considering legal action.

That’s why I say I’m not a “pageant fan.” I’m a fan of integrity. If a system says advocacy is its core, then advocacy must be the core—especially in interview. If it isn’t, I can’t in good conscience recommend it to anyone.

Here’s what I would personally want from any system:

Integrity and transparency. If you say something matters, prove it in your scoring and in the way you run the show.
Scoring criteria upfront. Tell contestants what each component is worth.
Scores returned afterward (without a fee). This keeps judges honest and helps contestants improve.
Judging done properly. More time between contestants so judges can actually judge. (You’d be shocked at how often speed and spectacle win out over accuracy.)

I’ve sat next to judges being outright horrible to five‑ and six‑year‑olds because they were on a power trip. If you truly believe your judging has integrity, you shouldn’t be afraid of accountability.

Know Your Pageant Why (and Guard Your Mental Health)

Here’s the practical part. Get crystal clear on what you want and what you don’t want from your pageant journey. Write a list of 5–10 for each. Then circle the musts—not the “nice‑to‑haves,” but the non‑negotiables. For me: integrity, aligned judging criteria, scoring transparency.

This clarity becomes your filter when the noise ramps up. If you compete in a national‑only system and avoid the international fan machine, life is usually quieter. But if you jump into an international system, you’re stepping into the world of hot picks and fandom rankings. It gets noisy fast, and it can be awful for your mental health.

When you know your musts, you can look at the chaos and say: “You do you—I don’t care about that.” You protect your energy, your focus, and your joy.

Hot Picks: Why I Don’t Play That Game

Fans can do what they like—it’s a free world. My issue isn’t that hot‑pick pages exist; it’s how contestants engage with them.

I’ve interviewed phenomenal women from countries that aren’t pageant powerhouses. They almost never get picked up by hot‑pick pages. Meanwhile, someone with a 20‑person media team and a professional videographer gets shared everywhere. What happens? The woman doing the actual advocacy and the real work feels invisible. Watching others get hyped—when you’re having to do everything by yourself—can wreck your head. If you claim to care about mental health and empowerment, why fuel a culture that makes people feel ignored?

Even with my longform interviews, I still don’t feel comfortable declaring, “She should win.” An hour or two isn’t enough to truly know someone, and I haven’t interviewed every other contestant. At best, hot picks are opinions based largely on a photograph and a short bio. Let’s be honest: many picks come down to who looks prettiest in a polished headshot. That’s the opposite of what I care about—real empowerment, skill‑building, interviews, confidence that translates to real life.

Here’s my ask of contestants: stop sharing hot picks. They’re a distraction. They feed the ego. If social media is part of judging, systems should clearly state what metrics count (followers? engagement?). If they’re going to consider hot picks (I’ve never seen this explicitly), they should say so. Otherwise it’s a gray area that promotes sycophancy—the “you pick me, I’ll share you” loop that helps nobody.

If you think I’m being dramatic, look at pro sport. The US tennis Open is on right now in New York. You can tag a player as your pick to win; they’re not going to share it. Why? Because it's irrelevant and distracting. Thank your fans, sure—but don’t tether your focus to strangers’ predictions.

The Bottom Line

I’ll say it forever: I’m not a pageant fan. I’m a fan of certain women and certain aspects of pageantry—the parts that build people, not just profiles. Know your pageant why, define your musts, and use them to filter out the fandom static. Protect your mental health. Prioritize systems with integrity. And if the Big Four debate pops up again? Remember: glossy arguments don’t change lives—your choices and your standards do.

Let me know your thoughts, and I’ll speak to you next week.