When I watched Law Roach step onto Project Runway this season, I was excited to see some extra spice on the TV screen, finally, a judge who isn’t afraid to say what everyone else is tiptoeing around.
His critiques were blunt and sometimes brutal, but they were real. In a time when most reality TV judges play it safe, terrified of a soundbite turning into a Twitter storm, Law came in swinging. And honestly, we needed that reminder. Life is not a participation trophy.
That’s the issue with participation trophies. They rob us of the discomfort that fuels growth.
When everyone gets rewarded the same, effort decreases. Kids start to believe minimal work is good enough. Over time, that creates complacency. It also muddies the meaning of real achievement. Why sweat and sacrifice if the end prize is identical? For the ones who do put in the hours, it’s deflating. Their grind and excellence get flattened into the same generic “good job” given to the person who coasted.
In middle school, I ran relay races. I was competitive and desired to win, even though it was for fun. In one race, I placed second. My friends cheered because I made the podium, but deep down, I knew I had lost. Nothing beats number one.
That sting is what made me want to work harder. If someone had handed me a shiny trophy for simply showing up, that moment of clarity, the realization that I needed more improvement, would’ve been dulled. I still gave everyone a high five and a hug. Some people would have shown poor sportsmanship in that case.
Without learning to lose or sitting in that discomfort, you miss the chance to build resilience, adaptability and grit, the qualities you need to thrive. I’m saying this considering a study from the American Psychological Association that suggests that positive reinforcement, like awards, fosters a strong self-image in children, motivating them to continue participating in sports and feeling proud of their parents.
The Simon Cowell era on American Idol was another example of this. Say what you will about Simon’s delivery, but his criticism meant something especially to the viewers. If you earned his praise, it was gold. And if you didn’t? Well, that was the music industry in a nutshell, harsh, cold and competitive. The lesson wasn’t that you’re terrible, it was basically to test how serious you were as an artist dealing with criticism you’d most likely hear from trolls on the internet, to industry associates.
That’s the balance we should be striking today. Although this type of delivery is very inconsiderate and lacks emotional intelligence at times, it has to be honest. If feedback doesn’t give me something to improve on, then it’s a waste of time. Also, I can’t expect the world to always package its criticism in kindness. Life won’t soften its blows. Sometimes you must cut through the noise like Beyoncé does with her haters and channel it into strengthening your skills.
So yes, cheer for kids who try. Encourage them. Celebrate their effort. But don’t confuse that with achievement. Reserve the trophies, the shiny markers of excellence, for the ones who earn them. And clarity is far kinder than the false comfort of a ribbon that says “you’re all winners.”
Because out here, not everyone gets a trophy in the real world. And the sooner we learn that, the better prepared we’ll be to chase the ones that matter.
