Watching the Miss Universe Pageant in my household growing up was the equivalent of watching the Olympics.
I would sit inches from the television, cheering for women who represented their countries with pride. The months of sacrifice came together in a single moment under the lights.
As a former pageant contestant myself, I knew how tough training for these kinds of competitions is.
My first pageant was a local African competition in Boston. I won on my first try, which gave me the courage to aim higher. Around 2013, I started my journey to compete in the Miss Massachusetts USA pageant. I never made it to the semifinals, but the experience was very valuable for the career I have today. I learned to maintain better posture, poise, and purpose, and to become a more effective public speaker.
I followed the updates on Miss Universe contestants, especially those from the Black diaspora. Women who looked like me were stepping into the global spotlight and shining with all they had to offer.
Then the controversies started.
Two weeks before the finals, a clip spread online of pageant organizer Nawat Itsaragrisi berating Mexico’s Fatima Bosch. He allegedly called her a ‘dumbhead’ during a livestream and argued with her for not posting about Thailand, the host country as part of her pageant duties. Bosch pushed back, saying she wanted to be respected as a woman. The situation blew up so severely that security was called, and several contestants walked out in solidarity.
Fast forward, two judges resigned just before the main competition. One claimed the finalists had been pre-selected. He even called Bosch a fake winner after the crown was placed on her head. When pageant insiders start accusing the system of rigging itself, it becomes difficult to view the competition in the same light.
By the time the Top 5 took the stage, the energy was incredible. Yet in the middle of all that noise stood Olivia Yacé, Miss Ivory Coast. She did not bend. She did not break. She held her space with the confidence of someone who strutted like rent was due.
Her poise was sharp. Her answers were direct. Her aura felt grounded, regal, and unmistakably strong. She was the one contestant who made me lean forward and think, She has it. And the internet agreed. It was one of those situations where if she did not win, people would question everything.
So when her name was called as fourth runner-up, I was heated. Confusion. Disappointment. I had a sense that something was off. Miss Mexico is beautiful, but I didn’t find her performance particularly memorable, respectfully.
Then the story took another turn. Reports surfaced that Miss Universe co-owner Raul Rocha was facing serious criminal charges in Mexico related to the trafficking of drugs, weapons, and fuel.
Olivia resigned from her title as Miss Universe Africa and Oceania soon after. She said she needed to step away from the “diminished role” and stay true to her values. It was a powerful decision. She refused to shrink herself to fit into a system that had already shown cracks.
Rocha later attempted to justify why Olivia could not have served as the main titleholder by citing visa issues for citizens of the Ivory Coast. According to him, managing her travel needs would make her reign expensive and complicated. The explanation sounded weak. If visa logistics are a reason to disqualify a woman, then half the contestants should not have been allowed to compete. Travel arrangements are part of the organization’s job. Not a contestant’s burden.
Through every moment of chaos, Olivia stayed composed. She carried herself like the true queen she is. When she returned home, the love she received said everything the pageant could not. Ivory Coast, Africa, and the world celebrated her.
Black women around the world celebrated her. She demonstrated what it means to rise above systems that attempt to limit or diminish us. That resilience is something Black women are well-acquainted with.
Olivia Yace was my Miss Universe. Not because she needed a crown to validate her worth, but because she represented an entire continent with power and pride. I don’t think the Miss Universe Organization was ready for this kind of woman anyway. She walked into that arena for all of us, and she walked out even stronger.
