Continuing from Pageant Series, Part 1: Intro to the Miss America Organization

Exactly eight years ago, I was standing onstage during the Miss America Pageant, live on national television, when they called my name into the top 15. (We’ll ignore the fact that at time of writing, I’m eating Nutella on my couch while my two dogs are begging for a bite). By the end of the night, Caressa Cameron, Miss Virginia, was crowned Miss America amidst thunderous applause and drifting confetti.

What is most unfortunate for the television audience is that they don’t see the two weeks leading up to that famed moment in TV history. The miss the moments in the rehearsal rooms where competitors turn friends, the sleepless nights from late rehearsals and early satellite media tours, the tears, and the celebrations.

In honour of the Class of 2010’s 8-year Anniversary, I’m giving you all a glimpse behind the curtain that is the Miss America Pageant with a few of the stand-out memories from my experience.

These Are My People

The Miss America experience isn’t for everyone. It certainly has the ability to break anyone with weak confidence. From the moment you meet your first Miss America sister, you quickly realise that you’re in a whole different league of excellence. Imagine then being surrounded by 52 other women who are ALL high-achieving, intelligent, well-spoken, gorgeous, community-oriented world changers. And then have seven strangers judge all of you at the end of your time together. Intimidating, no?

For some, it can absolutely diminish the belief in their own abilities. But for the truly self-confident, you’re empowered by these other women because you realise you’ve been selected to be a part of this elite group.

During one of our early rehearsals, we had a quick break and sat at several tables to relax and recharge. But of course, the Miss America version of relaxing is using that time to catch up on current events and review our notes for interview. A discussion sparked at the table I and about eight other contestants had gathered around. Whatever controversial topic was in the news in January 2010 (irrelevant), we had a variety of opinions on it.

I remember sitting there, listening to the discussion, contributing where necessary, but mostly admiring in absolute awe the pure intelligence and analysis that was coming from literally every single woman. No matter the opinion, it was justified and educated, acknowledged by the others and sometimes refuted. We each respected the other person’s stance and respectfully agreed or disagreed.

Current events turned to personal stories which turned to laughter and eventually banter. And despite the distance between our states or where or how we grew up, we were all cut from the same cloth.

It was one of those moments where you sit back and think, “These are my people.” At the heart of it, almost every single woman who competes at Miss America has undeniable similarities to her sisters. And I’m convinced it’s why the Class of 2010 has such a strong relationship today and why my closest friends are women I met through pageantry. When you find people who value the same things you do – community service, the goodness in all people, the power of positivity – and have the same driven, type-A personalities, you forge those lifelong friendships, no matter the distance.

A Friend Lost

In preparation for an elite event such as Miss America, it is vital that the contestants turn to professionals to help them train for each category. Most contestants at that level use an interview coach, a talent coach, fitness trainers, and a walking and presentation coach at a minimum, much less the hair and makeup lessons, stylists, dieticians, and mental preparedness coaches.

While I had several people who were vital to my preparation for Miss America, perhaps the most tangible and lasting impressions were left by Jim and Joy Robbins, my interview coaches. This husband and wife team blessed Indiana by making New Castle their home, but their reach was national. They coached countless Miss Americas to victory and had a hand in shaping hundreds of state titleholders, including me.

When preparing for interview, you spend hours upon hours in self-reflection, working with your coaches to break down the core of who you are into words and concepts, finally able to rebuild that into a personal bio or an interview answer. Your coaches sometimes know you even better than you know yourself. Jim and Joy were certainly that to me as they worked to strengthen my weaknesses and helped me shape my current event beliefs. Their kindness and belief in me over my four years competing in the Miss America Organization were instrumental in my personal and career development.

At the end of one of the Miss America rehearsals, Katie Stam – the then-current Miss America, a friend of mine, and a product of Jim and Joy Robbins – called me aside. She’d just gotten a call from our Indiana state director who relayed bad news. Joy Robbins had succumbed to her long battle with cancer. It was news that neither of us expected in that moment, leaving us both practically speechless.

I remember asking Katie who else the Robbins’s had worked with at Miss America, who else this would affect. Miss Louisiana, Katherine, came over saying she’d just been told the news and that she, too, worked with Joy for years. She and I spent the next several minutes hugging, crying, mourning the person who had been such an involved part of our lives. We shared our stories of Joy, stories that were so similar, and stories of a person who lived up to her name.

I think that particular memory stays with me because of the pure kindness and empathy in that moment. We were both mourning, but were mere days away from the job interview of our life – the very same interview Joy had fully prepared us for. There were only a few moments allocated for sadness before it was time to prove Joy right, that her belief in us was not in vain. And I’m certainly proud to say that we both placed – I as a finalist and Miss Louisiana as 3rd runner-up. I still vividly remember watching Katherine perform on the piano during the finals night, knowing Joy would have been undeniably proud of us both.

Judgement Day

Even though the contestants are at Miss America for two weeks and only one day is televised, the competition spans over the course of five days. The interviews are held over two days, there are three nights of prelims, and then the final televised competition night. As that ever-important interview day inches closer, the air around the event changed. Every contestant who was there to do more than just show up, who was there to compete, got focused.

Significantly more time was spent in introspection; many turned to prayers, journaling, or inspirational books that helped them. As a person who is naturally more introverted and introspective, I had spent years at Miss Indiana with my nose in my notes…only to fall short as first runner-up. It was the Don Baker “open and outward” philosophy that had propelled me out of that first runner-up spot and into the title of Miss Indiana. So in those days leading up to Interview Day, it was most important that I mentally prepared myself to be conversational, open, and connecting.

Right before interview, you’re called down from your hotel rooms in groups and placed in a holding room down the hall from the Interview Room. One by one, each contestant is led out to the hallway to be “on deck” and then finally allowed to interview for her dream job. Each interview is 10 minutes total – 9 minutes and 30 seconds of literally “anything goes”-type interviewing followed by a 30-second closing statement from the contestant.

Some speak of their Miss America interviews with admiration, others with absolute dread. Some knew from the moment they walked in that they would not be crowned in a few days time. But overall, most say it was the best interview of their lives. I’m definitely in the latter camp.

Miss America is a mental game. The viewing audience may see swimsuits and rhinestones, but the most preparation is put into your ability to be mentally tough. For 10 minutes, you’re asked any number of questions regarding your personal beliefs on relevant current events (read: abortion, illegal immigration, and the grey area surrounding free speech are all fair game). You answer why you believe you’re ready for the (gruelling and often times unglamorous) job of Miss America. You tell entertaining stories and make the judges fall in love with your personality. You get pushed about controversial topics, all while smiling, remaining calm, and explaining the reasoning behind your convictions.

The interview is designed to be demanding of a young woman, for Miss America is everything to all people. She is an angel in an evening gown to those who grew up in the black-and-white TV days of Dick Clark. She is a proud feminist, fighting for women’s rights. She’s an educated and empowered woman, but able to deliver that message to business men and congresswomen and grandparents and pageant-haters and elementary-aged children – sometimes all at the same event. You have to be relatable and funny and strong and a leader and feminine and compassionate and…it’s easy to lose your own voice in all of that.

I prepared hard for the interview portion of the competition, and I was prepared to not let a single question rattle me while still being vulnerable enough to let them see me. I fended off Vanessa Williams’s “Pro-life or pro-choice” and Rush Limbaugh’s “Tell me why I should believe pageants are relevant,” but also laughed with them, shared my plan as Miss America, and allowed myself to connect with them during those short 10 minutes.

As any performer knows, sometimes you just have that feeling you nailed it. Before the scores go up or the winners are announced, you know you did the best job you could have ever asked of yourself. That’s how I felt walking out of that interview room. I was proud of myself; I was proud of my team and my supporters. We had done it! And no matter what the result was the following Saturday, I would be able to hold my head high. Luckily for me, I had some huge external validation, when I was not only named as a semi-finalist, but was also mentioned on-air the following Monday by a judge for excellence in that interview. But that feeling of having truly succeeded in my own judgement will stick with me for a lifetime.

We’ve Made It

One of the most vivid memories I have of my time at Miss America was immediately before the national telecast. I grew up watching Miss America and idolising the women on television. I’d watched every pageant that was on TV or online for the previous five years. Behind the scenes and before the show, each one starts the same. A warm-up emcee gets the audience excited and energetic before the cameras cut to live.

Our class was divided into small groups backstage before we came on for the opening number. I was stage left in the wings with about 13 other contestants, and we heard the roar of the audience for the first time. Then again. And again as the warm-up emcee asked them who they were cheering for and if they were ready for a great night.

Almost simultaneously, the 14 of us turned to each other with tears in our eyes. We’ve made it. This dream each of us had held for decades, that we’d worked toward relentlessly for years was finally coming true. Frankly, I was a mess for a good 5 seconds as I soaked in the excitement and energy of the audience. I knew I never wanted to forget that feeling. Tears turned to excitement which turned into uncontrollable jumping in a circle for all 14 of us, which turned to snapping ourselves into “show time.” Mere moments later, we were finally onstage for the final night of Miss America in front of the world.

I Lost Miss America

I live by the Ricky Bobby philosophy: “If you’re not first, you’re last.” Because what matters most to me is the pride in knowing I pushed myself outside my comfort zone, performed when it really mattered, and gained a wealth of experiences from this truly unique life event. But at the heart of it, I lost Miss America.

The moment you realise you’ve failed at your dream hurts. And for a select few of us, that happens on national television in front of a viewing audience of literally millions. It is heart-breaking and excruciating, and yet you do it with a smile because you’re somehow still genuinely happy for your friends and proud of yourself and…oh yeah, you can’t exactly frown on national TV.

I was certainly on a high from my Miss America experience by the time we got to the first cut. I had nailed my interview, talent, and onstage question. I didn’t fall on my face in swimsuit or evening gown (that’s a win in my book). But I was still nervous going from 53 contestants to 15. One by one, the emcee Chris Harrison called out state names, and one by one, it wasn’t Indiana.

There’s a strange feeling that comes with not hearing your state; you’re taken by surprise every time but at the same time hopeful because there’s any number of places still left and it could still be you. And with each contestant called down, you think, “Yep, she’s absolutely deserving. Of course they picked her!” while still hoping there’s room for you at the end. And then comes the moment where you hear your state. By that time, your state had become your full identity. I was Indiana and Chris Harrison had called my name!

A number of thoughts flashed through my head: Relief. Pride. Family. My prep team. Smile for the cameras. Thank the judges. Where do I stand? Which camera was it they told me to look at? OMG, I made it. I could still do this.

The dream was still alive. I hugged the contestants next to me and waited as they named the rest of the top 15. At this point, it becomes a whirlwind. The top 15 is rushed backstage to change into swimsuits for the first area of competition, and rushed back onstage to compete. The years of preparation and focus switch on so your walk, turns, and camera patterns become second nature. And then before you know it, the chaperones are lining you up and throwing sarongs on you, and it’s time for the second cut from 15 to 12.

One by one, Chris Harrison called out states that weren’t Indiana. And there, in front of my family and friends in the audience and the millions of at-home viewers, I had failed at meeting a goal.

I lost Miss America.

The cameras cut to a commercial break, the 12 who continued on were whisked backstage, leaving the three of us still out onstage with our dreams shattered. In swimsuits. I threw on that Cheshire smile when I saw my parents in the audience. I felt like I had let them down; they, too, had just watched their daughter’s childhood dream come to an end. They stood so I could see them, flailing their arms and giving me a huge thumbs up and blowing kisses. It was the absolute best gesture they could have done for me; I knew I that moment they were proud. I waved back as big as I could, only to hear the rest of the Indiana delegation who had traveled to Vegas roar with cheers.

You guys, find yourself those people. The ones who support you unconditionally and build you up when you fall flat on your face (thankfully only figuratively). I needed that in that moment.

But what snapped me out of my defeatedness occurred backstage. In the chaos of competition, I hadn’t stopped to think who was (and more specifically, who was not) in the top 15. I had spent the past two weeks, and various weeks before then, with the most accomplished, high-performing, talented, beautiful women I had ever met in my entire life. There were so many women in my class I could have seen as incredible and impactful Miss Americas.

It was only once I had a moment to myself to change out of my swimsuit and process the whole thing did I realise that a number of those women who I “just knew” would be in the top 5 didn’t make the first cut. And yet somehow I did. It showed me that the judges had one heck of a task to narrow down our class of 53 to 15, much less 12, 10, 7, and finally, one. I certainly couldn’t have done it, and the judges’ elimination of one woman over another was down to any number of factors. But I knew the worth of every single one of my fellow Miss America sisters. Each of them deserve the world.

It isn’t that only one woman in a class is capable of being Miss America; it’s that only one can be chosen.

_____

Every year, when January 30 rolls around, these experiences (among hundreds of others) come flooding back. And I can only express my gratitude at my fate to have had this unusual and powerful life experience. We call ourselves sisters because there’s an undeniable bond that comes from going through those emotional trials together.

Class of 2010, here’s to you! Happy Miss America Anniversary Day, and thank you for the memories!

Stay tuned for Part 3: My Year As Miss Indiana, and Part 4: Life Lessons I Learned From Pageants. Have a topic you want to see on Holly Tree Cottage? Comment below! I’d love to hear your thoughts!