How Pageants Can Improve Your Inner Self

I was a tomboy growing up. Dresses, makeup, nails, standing in a room full of people judging me—no thank you. That was not for me. I grew up with a sister who was a girly girl. She loved dressing up and doing pageants. My mom tried to get me to do the same, always saying things like, “You should be more like her, dress like her, and act like her.” Time and time again, I refused.

Fast forward many, many years. I had lived a life that was difficult and, at times, hard to bear. I returned home broken—physically, mentally, and spiritually. I had no self-confidence. I was never sure of myself or where I was headed. I wanted to be more and to find my purpose.

I began volunteering at a local fire department. I enjoyed it, but I wanted more. Then I started volunteering at the local ambulance service. A spark was born—but still, I was lost, wanting more for myself and striving to be better.

Then, in 2018, a friend who was a pageant director asked me to compete in my first pageant. I said, “That’s not for me.” I judged myself harshly enough—I didn’t want strangers judging me. At that point in my life, I had no confidence. I couldn’t tolerate touch, and eye contact was impossible.

But she kept encouraging me, saying it would be good for me. She told me, “Pageants aren’t what you think. Yes, you’re judged on your appearance, your ability to speak on stage and interview—but they are so much more.” Eventually, I gave in. I borrowed a dress, shoes, and other outfits for the day.

Backstage, I was nervous, asking myself, What am I doing? This is crazy. I want to run away so fast. Then one of the other ladies came up to me and started a conversation. She told me she was so happy to have me there and glad I was giving it a chance. That opened the door for others to come over and speak to me.

Even though I was uncomfortable with the conversation and the closeness of the women near me, I began to learn about them—what they did and how amazing they were. I didn’t win that day, but I walked away with a new appreciation for pageants and what they can do.

In 2022, I competed for the first time at the state American Women of Service Pageant. That’s when I learned I needed to have a platform. What was I passionate about? What did I want others to care about? I opened my heart, and my platform began to take shape.

I went into the state pageant not expecting much, but at the end of the day, although I wasn’t crowned a West Virginia American Women of Service titleholder, I was crowned Mr. & Mrs. West Virginia Kings & Queens 2022. The director had been secretly holding two pageants at once. She spoke to me as if she truly saw me. I felt a change in myself I didn’t think was possible.

Throughout the day, I spoke to people and made eye contact—not for long periods, but that was a big win for me. I was growing into someone I could be proud of.

As time went on, I spoke publicly about my platform for the first time. Mind Over Medic was real—my passion and my purpose. I felt confident, strong, and proud. I had created something not only for myself, but for those around me.

In 2024, I made a video about what Mind Over Medic was. I never thought anyone in the pageant world would care—but to my surprise, they did. People who saw the video asked questions and wanted to know more. They cared about my passion, my cause, and my extended EMS family.

When the comments on the video were released, I couldn’t have been more proud of myself and what I had done. I had advocated not only for myself but for my EMS family. I did it. I found my voice.

Throughout my time in International and American Women of Service, I found people who accepted me for me—not for who they thought I should be. They understood that touch was difficult, that eye contact could be hard, and that public speaking could shut me down. They never judged or shamed me for it. I felt cared for, loved, and accepted by women I had once been afraid to face.

I had followed some of these women on Facebook—they were amazing, outstanding individuals I thought I could never belong with. But I was wrong.

While in Maine, I was spoken to with kindness, caring, and compassion. For the first time, I began to feel self-love and a sense of belonging. My fears melted away with each interaction. While there, I attended the gala held each year. I won several awards and could not believe it was real. How could I win? These women are so smart, talented, outgoing, and exceptional.

Then came the award I was most excited about: the Phoenix Award. I had written an essay about overcoming and rising from the ashes. I had no expectation of winning. Then my name was called. My heart skipped a beat—I was at a loss for words. How? How? How? was all I could think.

Then something unexpected happened—Kim hugged me. She knew touch and hugging were not easy for me. But she hugged me. I didn’t flinch, jump, or pull away. I did it—I hugged a stranger. I was crying in front of a room full of people I barely knew.

For the first time, I realized what pageants had done for me. Pageantry had healed parts of me I never thought could be healed. I knew in that moment I was no longer the same broken, lost person I had been for so long. I had found myself—my true self.

Without pageantry, I truly believe this would not have been possible. I have become a true Phoenix, a true friend, and a passionate individual who not only loves the small circle around me, but also loves the woman I’ve become. Alongside my sister queens and directors, I support not just what pageantry has done for me, but what it can do for anyone.

I found the voice I had lost. I let go of the self-hate that had been created by another. I found peace with my past. I now love the “me” that is, and I celebrate her in such a public way.

If pageants can do that for me, imagine what they could do for you.

-Christel Feather, American Women of Service Elite 2024