The Gift of Not Winning

“You don’t need a crown,” she said with tears in her eyes and deep sincerity in her voice. My dear friend hugged me tightly after the pageant and repeated the words again with emphasis, “You don’t need a crown.” Her words and emotion pierced my soul and caused me to tear up as well. She meant what she was saying; I could feel it. And soon… I would understand what she meant in my own way.

In 2011, right in the middle of becoming penniless and being ill, I won a beauty pageant (the entry fee had already been paid for before these things happened). It wasn’t that I was uber confident back then, I simply surrendered any fight to win because I didn’t have the resources to be competitive. I accepted my circumstances, showed up, and did my best. I was completely calm throughout the entire competition, which allowed me to just be…me—open, friendly, comfortable. With those judges, on that night, it worked. And I won.

I competed in four more pageants after this win, but didn’t realize until a few pageants into that journey that what I was really trying to capture by competing was the feeling I had experienced the night I won. My adult life has been relentlessly challenging and I just kept wanting to feel like I felt in that moment and during that year when I served as a queen. Eventually, I came to realize I viewed the crown as proof that I could replicate that feeling. But it never happened. So, I kept trudging through the mire of life and being as happy as I could despite each new challenge, and then, every once in a while, I would try again with another competition to see if I could recreate the past. After my last try several years ago, I tucked the tiara pursuit away for good, or so I thought.

About a month ago I was given an opportunity to compete in a pageant in place of someone who had dropped out. Although I had only three weeks to prepare and was deep in the middle of a difficult health challenge, I knew immediately, when the offer was presented, that I would compete. And I did. And it was wonderful. But I didn’t win. And although I tried emotionally to replicate that night from long ago, it still didn’t happen. However, something interesting has happened to me in these past 30 days following the pageant.

I’ve done a lot of reflecting during this time. One of the things I’ve reflected on is confidence. I used to think winning a pageant was all about confidence, but it’s more nuanced than that. A pageant is really just an elaborate job interview, and the crown goes to the woman who performs and scores consistently high across all categories. As I broke down my beliefs surrounding confidence, what it looks like and what it means, I realized that it shows up in many different ways, not just in the ways titleholders present themselves. I thought about the way I hold myself, the way I walk, the way I stand—sure it can be improved; I admire the beauty of poise, but I also kind of like that I’m casual and comfortable in my skin. Looking put together and polished can be important in certain environments, but I also kind of like that I’m not high maintenance, and that I’m okay not getting Botox injections and not having my nails done. Interview skills and verbal communication are admirable, but I really like that I can communicate through original music, visual arts, writing, movement, empathy, symbolic concepts, and other forms of creativity and self-expression. The more I thought about all this, the more I realized that I am actually very confident and that I really like who I am. And that’s a pretty big freaking deal if you know my past and what I’ve had to overcome. And this feeling has grown over the weeks and settled in my heart and reached up to my voice, and I have no doubt it will continue to grow… because I feel different in my body, not just my mind.

My friend was right. I don’t need a crown. The quiet self-acceptance that has entered my soul over the past month has been a much more profound gift than any temporary win could offer. And it’s not lost on me that the woman who delivered this message is the same woman who crowned me all those years ago. A poetic symmetry and divine orchestration couldn’t be more beautifully designed than this little detail of my journey.   

Confidence can look different in different people. It’s really a combination of self-acceptance and courage, which isn’t something that’s always awarded, praised or celebrated publicly. But every time you dare to share a little of your heart, to show up when it’s hard, to be you when nobody seems to see you, you win something much more precious than praise or validation—you add substance to your character and gain truth about who you are. And truth embraced adds light to your soul, and power to your actions, and hope to your outlook, and beauty to your experience, and love to your heart. And those are the true jewels. And that’s not just some trite phrase to take the edge off the rejection of not winning. It’s truth. Real, soul-changing truth. Edifying truth. Empowering truth. Biologically changing truth.

That feeling I was trying to recapture from so long ago didn’t come with a crown, it came because I DIDN’T win the crown, because I reflected on aspects of my experience, because I opened up to myself in a way I hadn’t been able to before and saw truth, which allowed me to receive…me. And ironically loving yourself and receiving yourself means you can finally forget yourself and serve in a unique way–by being yourself–without fear calling the shots. And that’s really one things we all want deep down inside—just to be who we are and feel good about it.

Life and love are a journey. Sometimes the thing we think we want comes to us in an unexpected way. Being curious and open to receiving allows us to embrace what God wants to give us in whatever form it presents itself to us. Now, instead of a crown that must be passed on in a year, I own a crown that is literally part of my biology, in the form of empowering belief. And we all have that opportunity… And that’s pretty cool.