We are told not to judge others lest we be judged, for with what judgment we judge, we will be judged. The golden rule states it more simply: “Do for others as you would like them to do for you,” which, in fact is a lesson from the Bible: Luke 6:31, about being compassionate. But...

What about pageants? Isn’t that the nature of the event, to judge the contestants? This summer I found myself attending the Mrs. Minnesota pageant and completely enjoying myself as I critiqued, evaluated, admired, criticized and JUDGED the women on stage.

I felt I had earned the right. A year ago I had been on the same historical, Fitzgerald Theatre stage wearing false eyelashes, four-inch heels, and a sparkly, periwinkle gown as “Mrs. International Falls,” (incidentally this is the same stage where Garrison Keillor hosts his radio show, Prairie Home Companion. My platform had been about inner beauty. I wanted the honor of holding the title so I could encourage men, women and children of all ages to appreciate the beauty each individual has to offer his/her family, community, and country. Yeah, and spread world peace. Yes, that’s right, like butter on a cracker. That’s what I wanted.

Truthfully, standing on stage in a swimsuit, at 37 years of age, having had four children and a marriage of 13 years, made me proud. And it was fun. But since I’m being truthful, a pageant is not all that interested in the inner beauty of a woman. The women on stage are being judged for how they look and how they present themselves to the audience and judges. The five-minute interview and resume of past experiences, presented the night before, isn’t going to give “the judges” a real complete picture of a woman’s true beauty. And frankly, I could have had 40 kids instead of four and it wouldn’t have made a difference. “Sour grapes”, you may think? No, because I would do it all over again...I mean, I did it... once...happy about it... I wouldn’t take on pageant participation as a recreational activity/hobby. I met someone during “my” pageant experience and she said it was her 7th time running. She had gotten bit by the pageant bug. But the price tag on my sparkle gown was repellent enough for me.

I have been a part of two pageants, one as a contestant on stage and the following year as one who watches others on stage. I’ve noticed that a pageant audience consists mostly of former participants, future hopefuls, and family and friends of those presently competing on stage. I doubt anyone has ever attended a pageant for their own pleasure and entertainment like they would a play or musical concert. But in all due respect, a pageant is very entertaining.  In the Mrs. Minnesota pageant, there are vocal solos, a jazz ensemble, and dance numbers (the most entertaining one performed by a group of middle age men who are quite agile).

But I noticed that at this year’s 2005 pageant, the directors had omitted the contestant dance number. And Oooooooh, how I wished it had been the year I participated. Every Sunday for two months we would rehearse a complex dance routine to Dancin’ Machine by the Jackson Five, choreographed by Geno. It was a 300-mile trip for me each way. And each rehearsal I would look in the studio mirror and remember myself at age 12, in dance class.

One day in class I had overheard a parent say, “That Debbie girl is so skinny and awkward.”

It hurt because it was true. And now here I was... still skinny...still couldn’t dance. It didn’t help that three of the girls were former Minnesota Viking’s cheerleaders. But towards the end of the of the second month I got it, feeling like a solid gold dancer and looking like Holly Hobby in aerobic wear (which in pageant terms means a hot pink bikini top with matching lycra biker shorts sprinkled with rhinestone studs hot glued everywhere).

“You go, ‘Up North Girl’, you’ve got it!” the other girls would yell. It turned out having cheerleaders in the mix wasn’t so bad after all.

So the real problem with pageants seems to be that we see too much of the outside beauty and not enough of the inside beauty. But the real entertainment for us lies in the showing and the judgment of the outward package.

Mister Rogers (as in, “won’t you be my neighbor?”) carried a quote he loved around with him from Mary Lou Kownacki that said, “There isn’t anyone you couldn’t love once you’ve heard their story.”

Fred’s wife Joanne said, “There were many times I wanted to be angry at someone, and Fred would say, “But I wonder what was going on in that person’s day?”

“His capacity for understanding always amazed me,” said Joanne. And as with the pageant, each woman had their own personal story which was  usually quite interesting as well as unique. We all need to feel worth and acceptance in life. We want to be loved for who we are. We all need to experience unconditional love. And we may try out many different roles just to find the one where we can experience the most fulfillment and peace. Perhaps some of the women were doing a pageant for that very reason.

And while not everyone may have understood my reasons for doing a pageant I am very glad I took on the challenge and drove the distance...spent the money? (World peace, remember?) Well, maybe that wasn’t accomplished but I did leave with a peace in who I was. I was fulfilled in the role I had chosen as a wife and mother...and therefore I was able to enter a pageant. Freedom and confidence come from realizing our inner beauty and not about covering up and trying to change who we were created to be; at least not on the inside. Thanks to the pageant, I now have a swimsuit that—because of the substantial foam padding—works as a floatation device.

I also accepted my judgment. True, I was disappointed I did not make it as a finalist or... WIN...but I so cherish the award I was given. I proudly display my little wooden plaque that reads, “Mrs. Congeniality 2004.” To me it is evidence that I was able to share “the story of me” while listening to the other contestants as they shared theirs. But honestly, the best prize was coming home to the Icebox where I was greeted with, “Congratulations,” hugs, kisses and a paper crown, constructed by my four boys that read, “The Best Mom in the World.” I thanked my four little judges with many heartfelt hugs, kisses and even...a few tears.