Plenty of Filipinos can probably tell you what Gloria Diaz’s iconic reply was during the Q&A of Miss Universe 1969—when the Philippines took home the crown for the first time, Or Charlene Gonzales’ witty “High tide or low tide?” quip during Miss Universe 1994. Ask any Filipino where they were when Pia Wurtzbach won the Miss Universe title in singular fashion in 2015—what they were doing, who they were with—and chances are they’ll recall it in vivid detail. Everybody and their mother remembers Miss Universe 2018 Catriona Gray’s lava walk, Philippine flag-inspired ear cuffs, and Mayon Volcano evening gown. In a country that celebrates all types of recognition, no matter how big or small, Miss Universe is still queen.
In a country that celebrates all kinds of recognition, from school medals to global crowns, Miss Universe is still queen. Among its most devoted audiences are Filipino women and, of course, members of the LGBTQIA+ community, who have long embraced the pageant as more than a contest. It’s a beloved spectacle, a glamorous escape, and a space where beauty, creativity, and identity are celebrated on a global stage. If the U.S. has the Super Bowl, we have Miss Universe.
A lot of Pinoys make an event of it. Watch parties are organized, blow-by-blow viewer reactions are streamed live on social media, every detail of the pageant is dissected and discussed, and people come up with their own Top 10 bets.
Processions and Pageants
According to The Washington Post, the Philippines is the most pageant-obsessed country in the world. And when it comes to beauty pageants, Miss Universe reigns supreme. So what is it about these beauty contests that continue to fascinate us? The article points to our colonial past for answers. It calls beauty pageants an American legacy, brought to the country when the US colonized the Philippines.
In the wake of the #MeToo movement and amid current discussions on feminism and the ongoing task of dismantling the patriarchy, is there still a place for Miss Universe?
However, it’s important to remember that by the time the Americans arrived, Filipinos already had a tradition of pageantry, thanks to the Santacruzan—a religious procession deeply rooted in the Catholic faith (a lasting legacy from Spain this time, the country’s first colonizer). In this ritual pageant, maidens are given various Marian and Reina (Queen) titles and parade through the streets as a form of panata, or religious devotion.
According to Nathalie Africa-Verceles, professor at the Department of Women and Development Studies at the University of the Philippines, Diliman, the Santacruzan may have given beauty pageants easy traction in the country since it’s not unusual for Filipinos to see a “parade of women,” even if the original context is religious.
The modern Santacruzan may have retained its Catholic roots, but it has evolved into something closer to beauty pageants, complete with gowns, crowns, and, in some cases, scepters. If that tradition has survived centuries, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Miss Universe has remained a fixture in the country’s cultural landscape.
Uy, Philippines!
Bringing home the Miss Universe title has also become a source of national pride in the same way a Pacquiao win or, even more recently, Alex Eala’s momentous Miami Open run has. In a country where personal wins are few and far between, Filipinos are quick to share in the triumphs of anyone representing the Philippine flag on the global stage. We long to be recognized and acknowledged. We want to claim our place in the world—the Universe, rather.
“Given the many challenges of daily life, we’re often eager to find something we can collectively take pride in,” explains Africa-Verceles. “With Miss Universe, Pinoys anchor it on the country’s global reputation for producing beauty queens—a source of admiration, even if not without critique.”
The country’s collectivist culture also plays a part in this. It’s why Filipinos are quick to welcome famous figures with even the slightest Filipino connection or ancestry as “one of us.” As a nation and as a people, we celebrate the victories of fellow Filipinos as a community. A Miss Universe win is a win for all of us.
Maxine Medina, who represented the Philippines in Miss Universe 2015, puts it this way, “We love seeing someone rise, especially when they represent our country on the global stage—it makes us feel like we’re part of something bigger, something hopeful. Filipinos love having someone to root for, someone they can admire and relate to. It gives us pride, unity, and a sense of belonging.”
An All-New Universe
In the wake of the #MeToo movement and amid current discussions on feminism and the ongoing task of dismantling the patriarchy, is there still a place for Miss Universe? “It depends on where you stand,” says Africa-Verceles. “Feminists are not homogenous—we have different points of view.”
“The longstanding objection is that Miss Universe objectifies women and promotes unrealistic beauty standards. It projects an ideal of perfection that’s unattainable for the vast majority of Filipino women,” she elaborates.
On the other hand, pageants offer women opportunities and have served as a stepping stone to different careers. “We shouldn’t invalidate the choices women make,” she continues. “We also need to understand the context of these choices. For some, pageants are a way out of poverty. Who are we to get in their way?”
Many former contestants have parlayed their pageant wins into successful careers in entertainment, modeling, hosting, or as social media influencers. Medina echoes the sentiment: “The heart of Miss Universe lies in empowering young women who are at the beginning of their journey. At its core, it is a stepping stone for the next generation—and that’s what makes it so powerful.”
For Medina, the pageant’s influence goes beyond the crown. She sees it as a space for growth, visibility, and transformation.
“From the beginning, Miss Universe has served as a powerful platform for young women—those just starting to discover themselves, their voices, and their purpose. It’s a place where dreams begin and confidence is built,” Medina adds.
The people behind the Miss Universe pageant have taken steps to address the criticisms and keep up with the times. They have promoted greater inclusion, opening the pageant to transgender women, married women, divorced women, and mothers. There’s been a move towards advocacy-oriented platforms for contestants. It’s no longer just about looks—it’s about what the contestant stands for and how she wants to use the platform to make a difference.
“Pageants give young women a rare chance to speak up, to be seen, and to prove that we are strong, capable, and worthy of space.”—Maxine Medina, Miss Universe Philippines 2016
Meanwhile, the swimsuit segment remains part of the pageant, and its presence continues to draw criticism for allegedly objectifying women. But, Africa-Verceles points out, objectification is in the eye of the objectifier. A woman should be able to wear what she wants to wear, where she wants to wear it, and not have to carry the burden of someone else’s perception.
“Miss Universe isn’t just about beauty—it’s about heart, purpose, and resilience,” adds Medina. “Pageants give young women a rare chance to speak up, to be seen, and to prove that we are strong, capable, and worthy of space.”
For all the critique and celebration it invites, let’s not forget that Miss Universe remains—at its core—a form of entertainment, aspiration, and, sometimes, escape. Its relevance in 2025 isn’t fixed; it shifts with perspective. And ultimately, you decide what it means to you. After all, in a world of shifting values, relevance is ultimately a matter of personal belief.
