Being a Woman: A Personal Experience of Courage by Elena Tonova 0 14

In Search of Meaning

– A young lady told me that one should participate in such contests at around 20 years old, and then there’s no point afterwards. Perhaps. But the question is, what exactly to seek meaning in.

To be honest, once, when I was about 20, I wanted to enter a contest. I told my boyfriend about it. And he reacted very straightforwardly: “You can, of course, go. I won’t forbid you. Just don’t cry when you don’t win. And you will never win in such events.”

I took it all as a joke at the time, but the pain remained. I remembered it a year ago when I was offered to participate in a similar event.

– Me?!

And from some secret and very fragile, vulnerable corner of my memory, the words immediately surfaced: “Just don’t cry when you don’t win. And you will never win.”

I pondered: why do girls even participate in beauty contests? Why would I have gone to a contest at 20? For evaluation, approval, for permission to be and to express myself. And if I were not chosen, it would have been a serious blow to my fragile, not very self-confident femininity.

I can’t say I wasn’t attractive. There was attention, suitors, and even that significant female envy. But there was no main thing — a holistic inner feeling: I have the right to be seen, and it is safe for me. Self-realization came to me rather through boldness, protest, and eternal “in spite of.” The understanding that softness and femininity are not weaknesses came much later.

I haven’t seen that guy for about twenty years. I have a vast experience of being in the public eye. And inside, it began:

— What if I’m not chosen?

— What if I say it out loud, and everyone starts laughing? Or, worse, condescendingly patting me on the shoulder?

— And the extra kilos? And the imperfect figure? That bar I have inside, the one I can never reach, hasn’t gone anywhere.

I was internally restless. In the evening, I casually told my husband: I mean, can you imagine, I was offered to participate in a beauty contest in the “Mrs.” format, apparently, there’s no one else to invite since they called me...

A joke. Devaluation. A readiness to hear a repeat of past experiences in advance.

— Cool. Did you agree?

— Of course not!

— Why?

I looked at him intently, searching his eyes for condescension, sarcasm. I found none.

– Lena, it’s just for yourself. Why not? Beautiful photos. A reason to be happy.

Never Say “Never”

I went to read the contest conditions. Three main crowns in different age categories, but the main idea is: “You are all queens.”

I opened my planner, checked the dates. Free.

My husband looked at his schedule:

– Great. I’ll book a hotel: a day earlier, so we’re not in a hurry, and a day later, so you can rest. Let’s go. Correspondence with the organizers, casting — and here I am, already a participant in the beauty contest.

But I strictly told myself: “I’m going just for my crown. Like everyone else. To walk out in a beautiful dress, to experience this and enjoy the process. Not to win. Just to participate.” Of course, I deceived myself.

The closer the event got, the stronger that fear of “I won’t be chosen” became. Because inside, it still echoed: “Just don’t cry when you don’t win. And you will never win.”

I thought that preparation would be a motivation: I would exercise, lose a couple of kilos. Not at all. The way I wanted to eat two weeks before the contest, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to eat.

The beautiful dress suddenly seemed like the worst choice of the year. My face — old. My figure — fat. The idea — silly. I didn’t tell anyone about my plans. Not because I was embarrassed, but because I wanted to leave myself the option of not going until the last moment. On April 1, I wrote on social media that I was going to a beauty contest. No one knew that it was both a joke and not a joke. The next day, I wrote that it was not a prank. And in the evening, we were already on our way to Estonia.

And even at this stage, I retained the internal right not to participate. It didn’t matter that everything was paid for. Everything was unimportant next to that fear — very strong, deep, sticky. Connected both with my personal expectations and with what I once imagined society expected of me. I convinced myself that it was enough just to be. But that inner 19-year-old girl still wanted to be chosen. So, in these two states at once, I stepped onto the stage.

Status “Just Me”

Later, I was told that I seemed cold and detached. Although in reality, I was just very scared and wounded by the past. The scariest part was stepping out not in a role, not in a profession — but as myself. Just a woman. And what is that even like? There was also a speech to give: who I am, what I am, why I am here. And I — 20 years with a microphone on stage talking about anyone but myself.

On the day of the event, I didn’t eat. I couldn’t. I stepped onto the stage, performed, but what I actually said, I later watched on video — my consciousness seemed to drift away at that moment, despite the prepared text.

The awards began. As promised — crowns for everyone. And separately — the selection of the main queens in three age categories. The host invites the first participant, the second, the third, the fourth, the sixth… And me? My number is five. Did they just forget me?

No, I immediately decided, they didn’t forget. It’s just not me. They just didn’t call my name.

And the first thought that pierced me was terribly cruel: “How could I mess up so badly that in a contest where crowns are given to everyone, they simply overlooked me? God, what a horror..."

I could barely hold back my tears. I felt scared, hurt, naked, unbearable. I wanted to run away. Erase this day. Disappear. And suddenly: — The winner of the first age category Sapphire World 2026 — Elena Tonova!

Yes, I burst into tears. I didn’t just cry — I sobbed.

(Photo: @ksenijakono)

Later, I noticed on the video that everyone who was crowned slightly squatted at that moment. And I stood tall. And I even felt that at that moment I straightened up a little more.

My inner wounded part immediately tried to devalue it all:

— it was a fluke;

— they made a mistake;

— it doesn’t mean anything;

— how can you not be ashamed, someone is feeling bad right now.

But no. I stood my ground from within. I allowed myself to accept this victory. To accept the crown. To accept the jury's decision. To accept their choice. And I succeeded.

A huge thank you to the organizers and the girls with whom we were together. A huge thank you to my husband — for being there all the time, coming with flowers, saying many nice things, and looking at me with loving eyes. Thank you to my loved ones who supported me. Thank you to friends on social media — the response was surprisingly warm. But I also really want to thank myself. Truly. Because only I know to the end what I had to go through inside myself to do this. Upon returning, I put the crown in a bag, saying, that's it, moving on: work, studies, daily life, students. But then I took it out and placed it in a prominent spot.

I am learning not only to accept victory.

I am learning to rejoice after it.