Feminists have long criticized pageant culture for what it represented when it was first introduced into American society.
The earliest modern beauty pageants in the U.S. emerged in the late 19th century, often organized by businessmen in seaside towns to boost tourism. These contests were less about celebrating women and more about showcasing them, like trophies, for male spectators and commercial gain.
The first Miss America pageant, held in 1921 in Atlantic City, was explicitly designed to extend the summer season and attract crowds. Women paraded in swimsuits while male judges ranked them based on their physical appearance, and the crowns and sashes served as a form of bragging rights for husbands and fathers.
The pageant stage became a place where women were expected to perform femininity on cue, reinforcing narrow beauty ideals and gender roles.
But over the decades, the same feminists who rejected the culture have challenged and reshaped these traditions. Rather than criticize pageants solely for their origins, many have worked to redefine them as platforms for advocacy, scholarship and self-expression.
A recent walkout at a Miss Universe event demonstrated just how far pageant culture has shifted from being dictated by men to a space that women claim and support as their own.
During a pre-pageant ceremony in Bangkok, Miss Universe Thailand director Nawat Itsaragrisil publicly berated Miss Mexico, Fátima Bosch, for failing to post promotional content. When Bosch attempted to leave, he called security and threatened to disqualify anyone who supported her. Bosch exited the room, and several contestants, dressed in their sashes and gowns, stood and followed.
Captured on livestream and widely shared online, the moment showcased a powerful display of solidarity and a stand against disrespect by some of the most respected women from around the world.
More locally, in college competitions like Miss UCA, which returns on Nov. 16, winning a crown isn’t simply about whose ball gown sparkles brighter.
These women are students, sorority members and partners with local charity foundations. They hold themselves to high ethical standards and work to better their communities—on campus, backstage and back home.
In most pageants today, including Miss Arkansas, contestants are no longer competing based on shallow qualities on stage. Instead, it’s their leadership, service and personal growth that push them to stand shoulder to shoulder, rather than toe to toe.
Talent rounds give contestants the chance to showcase their diversity — whether it’s belting out a vocally demanding Céline Dion song, painting a portrait in minutes, performing a choreographed dance or playing an instrument.
Gone are the days of posing in front of a panel of men who judged contestants based on waist size or swimsuit appeal. Today, women are asked thoughtful questions that allow them to speak out about their charitable work and share their moral stance on complex issues. Rather than being evaluated solely on appearance, contestants are recognized for their intelligence, creativity and purpose.
That said, it’s crucial not to glaze over the pageant scene entirely. Especially in the South, pageants remain deeply rooted in tradition — and some of those traditions still carry traces of misogyny.
The pressure to conform to beauty standards, the emphasis on presentation and the occasional misuse of authority remind us that the work isn’t finished.
But the culture has come a long way. Pageants are no longer just about winning a crown — they’re about building a community. Women support each other, advocate for causes and use their platforms to challenge the very systems that once tried to contain them.
Pageants may have been born from the male gaze, but today, they belong to women. And that shift is worth celebrating.