The Unseen Battleground of Beauty: How Miss Universe Reflects Our Evolving World
When Catriona Gray, the 2018 Miss Universe from the Philippines, finally met her successor Bea Millan-Windorski—the 2023 Peruvian-Filipino environmental advocate—it wasn’t just a passing of the crown. It was a collision of two worlds. On the surface, this moment seemed like routine pageant theater. But if you dig deeper, their meeting reveals a global culture war playing out in sequins and sashes. Let me explain why this matters more than you’d expect.
The Pageant Industrial Complex Is Reinventing Itself
For decades, beauty pageants were synonymous with outdated stereotypes: women paraded as decorative objects, judged by rigid beauty standards that reinforced colonial ideals. Catriona Gray’s reign, while groundbreaking for the Philippines, still operated within those traditional frameworks. But Bea’s rise signals something different. Her mixed heritage, advocacy for environmental justice, and emphasis on "inner strength over physical appearance" reflect a radical shift. Personally, I think pageants are trying to survive by becoming microcosms of modern identity politics. The question is: Can you rebrand a 100-year-old institution without losing its soul?
Why Diversity Isn’t the Panacea Everyone Thinks
Bea’s Peruvian-Filipino background is celebrated as a win for representation. And yes, seeing a Miss Universe with roots in the Global South matters. But here’s the uncomfortable truth: these pageants still cater to a narrow economic elite. Behind the diversity optics, contestants are often groomed by expensive pageant factories that require six-figure budgets. What many people don’t realize is that true inclusivity would require dismantling the entire system, not just tweaking demographics. Bea’s advocacy work is admirable, but let’s not confuse symbolic gestures with structural change.
The Rise of the "Purpose-Driven" Pageant
Modern Miss Universe hopefuls now spend more time discussing climate change than haircare. This shift isn’t altruism—it’s survival. As traditional beauty standards clash with Gen Z’s values, pageants are repositioning themselves as platforms for social impact. In my opinion, this is both brilliant and cynical. Bea’s focus on ocean conservation aligns perfectly with corporate sponsors’ greenwashing agendas. The pageant world is essentially becoming TED Talks with tiaras. But does this hypocrisy matter if it amplifies important causes? I’d argue it does—because authenticity matters in an age where audiences can smell marketing from a mile away.
The Real Story: Pageants as Cultural Fossils
What fascinates me most isn’t the contestants but the audience. Why do 600 million people still watch Miss Universe annually? From my perspective, these pageants serve as cultural fossils—preserving 20th-century ideals of glamour, national pride, and feminine perfection in a world that’s supposedly moved on. The contrast between Bea’s progressive platform and the audience’s conservative expectations creates a fascinating tension. This isn’t just about beauty; it’s about who gets to define progress in a divided world.
What This Means for the Future of Pop Culture
If you take a step back and think about it, the pageant evolution mirrors broader entertainment trends. Reality TV’s decline, influencer culture’s rise, and the mainstreaming of activism—all these forces are reshaping what we consume. The Miss Universe organization is essentially conducting a live experiment: Can we keep the pageantry while swapping swimsuits for sustainability? My prediction? They’ll survive another decade by doubling down on spectacle and shallow activism. But the soul of these events—the thing that made them culturally relevant in the first place—is already slipping away.
Final Takeaway: The Crown as a Mirror
Catriona and Bea’s meeting wasn’t just symbolic; it was diagnostic. Their crowns reflect our collective contradictions—our desire for tradition and hunger for progress, our obsession with beauty and guilt about it. As someone who’s studied media for years, I see these pageants not as relics, but as canaries in the cultural coal mine. Watch them closely; they’ll tell us when the next societal shift begins. The real question isn’t whether Miss Universe will stay relevant. It’s whether we’ll admit why we keep watching long after we’ve stopped believing in what it represents.
