What Miss Mexico’s win says about women challenging patriarchy today

Miss Mexico’s victory has become the most contentious Miss Universe win in recent memory – overshadowed by allegations of rigging, judge misconduct and internal turmoil within the organisation.

Rumours of a judge’s affair with a contestant, two judges resigning – one claiming the results were fixed – and a walkout led by Fatima Bosch (Miss Mexico) after organiser Nawat Itsaragrasil publicly scolded her for not posting sponsored content have amplified doubts about the pageant’s integrity.

The swirl of controversy has fuelled speculation that Bosch’s win was shaped by optics or politics, with online critics insisting she prevailed only through “pity, drama, or sympathy”.

The drama deepened when two Miss Universe runner-up winners resigned their titles, and an arrest warrant was issued for pageant co-owner Anne Jakrajutatip over alleged US$930,000 fraud. All of it combined to make this year’s Miss Universe feel less like a competition and more like a plotline from an over-the-top reality show.

Yet, despite the chaos, Bosch ultimately walked away with the crown, with Miss Thailand Praveenar Singh placing first runner-up, Miss Venezuela Stephany Abasali in third, followed by Miss Philippines Ma Ahtisa Manalo and Miss Cote d’Ivoire Olivia Yace.

Even contestants were surprised: Miss Singapore Annika Xue Sager told The Straits Times she was “shocked by the results”, adding that rewatching the Q&A segment gave her “goosebumps, especially from Miss Cote d’Ivoire”.

She wasn’t alone. Online, many viewers argued that other contestants delivered stronger answers and appeared more deserving of the title. While controversy prompted speculation that Bosch’s win hinged on optics or politics, the final decision still reflects the judges’ criteria and judgement.

Still, a larger question surfaces: Why do we continue to measure women through a platform rooted in traditional ideals of beauty and behaviour?

Even with attempts to modernise, pageants remain burdened by their origins – Miss Universe was founded in 1952 by a Californian swimwear company and later partly owned by Donald Trump – a legacy in which women were evaluated publicly and competitively in ways that men rarely are.

An act of resistance?

By now, the widely circulated walkout needs little introduction. During a sashing ceremony, Itsaragrasil publicly berated Bosch, calling her “a dumb head” for supposedly skipping a sponsored shoot. Bosch pushed back and walked out – prompting a mass walkout by fellow contestants in a show of solidarity.

The moment exposed a stark power imbalance. Despite the risk of being penalised or disqualified, Bosch stood her ground. “If it takes away your dignity, you need to go,” she later told reporters. Her response was praised back home, with Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum calling it “an example of how women should raise our voices”.

But outside Mexico, reactions were far more divided. On Reddit and other comment forums, some questioned how “authentic” the protest was or whether the confrontation – and the ensuing walkout – unfairly boosted sympathy for Bosch at the expense of other contestants. One Redditer argued that the “emotional reaction” may have swayed public perception or even the judges, suggesting the drama had become part of the competition’s theatre.

To some viewers, Bosch’s walkout seemed impulsive; to others, it was a justified refusal to accept public humiliation. Regardless of interpretation, it reignited a broader conversation about respect, accountability and the unwritten rules governing how women – especially those in highly scrutinised public arenas – are expected to behave.

We’ve seen similar dynamics play out before. Serena Williams’ on-court expressions of frustration, for example, have been labelled “aggressive”, “hysterical” or “unprofessional” in ways rarely applied to male athletes. The double standard is hard to miss: male leaders can challenge decisions, storm out of meetings or demand fairness and still be praised as assertive or principled; when a woman does the same, she risks being dismissed as “difficult”, “emotional” or “unprofessional”.

Bosch’s win does not resolve these issues. But it highlights that even within systems shaped by traditional expectations of femininity, acts of pushback and self-advocacy can still reverberate – sometimes loudly enough to shift the narrative.

If anything, the uproar surrounding Miss Mexico’s win shows that when a woman resists humiliation or refuses to play by the script, the world still doesn’t quite know what to do with her.