By Arica Quinn, Miss Middle Tennessee 2025
It’s pageant season.
All over Tennessee, you can feel the excitement in the air. Gowns are being steamed, interview answers rehearsed, and dreams stretched to fit the shape of a sash. And listen—I love every bit of it. Pageantry is a celebration. A beautiful, bold tradition that runs deep in our Southern roots.
But I’d be lying if I didn’t say… it’s also emotional.
It’s layered. It’s triggering sometimes. It brings up insecurities I thought I laid to rest, and questions I don’t always have the answers to. And so I’m writing this not just for the queens, the contestants, and the community—but for me, too.
Because pageantry, for me, has become something far deeper than the spotlight. It’s been a journey back to myself.
People think it’s just about looking glamorous on a stage, but it’s so much more. It’s about having the courage to look at your own reflection—flaws, fears, and all—and say, I am still worthy. It’s about learning to walk in heels while carrying the weight of your past, and still finding balance.
Pageantry pulled things out of me I didn’t even know were still buried. It demanded self-reflection. Soul-searching. Healing. And as uncomfortable as it’s been, I’m grateful. Because it showed me the best version of myself doesn’t live in perfection—it lives in honesty.
Every woman should experience this at least once. Not because of the crown, but because of the growth. Because of the grit. Because of the glow that comes after you’ve done the work on the inside.
Being a Pageant Queen isn’t about competition—it’s about compassion. It’s about serving. It’s about taking your story—no matter how broken or messy—and using it to uplift someone else. It’s about showing up even when your hands are shaking, because the platform you stand on matters more than the applause.
And some days? I don’t feel like a queen.
Some days, I feel tired. Questioning. Wondering if I’m doing enough.
But on those days, I remind myself:
👑 I am enough.
👑 I am growing.
👑 I am worthy, crown or no crown.
To any woman reading this—whether you walked away with a title or not—know that you gained something no judge could ever score: confidence, courage, clarity.
This is more than a sash and a crown.
This is healing. This is legacy. This is QUEENSHIP.
And today, I honor it… and I honor me.
With love,
Arica Quinn
Miss Middle Tennessee 2025
Queen, Survivor, and Still Becoming
