My Story of Persistence: How I Won the Miss Colorado Title Twice
Third grade was the first time my mother realized that I was an outspoken person and perhaps the first time I recognized my own cultural differences. My family had recently moved to Colorado Springs from New Mexico after my father was relocated by the army. About halfway during the school year, we were learning about Colorado history and my teacher was telling us about a landmark she called “May-suh Vur-dee”. I interjected with a raised hand to correct her. “Actually, it’s pronounced Mesa Verde,” I announced. To which she replied, “No, it’s says right here in the book “may-suh vur-dee.” Like a good student, I refrained from any further discussion. At the end of the lesson, my teacher asked the class “How has Colorado changed over the years?” I was the first to raise my hand and I said “They used to call it Mesa Verde, and now they call it Maysuh Vurdee.”
I attended a private college-prep school on a full scholarship. Even then, it was cost prohibitive because books, fees, and experiential trips were not covered by the scholarship. My dad painted the interior of the building in exchange for these things so that I wouldn’t miss out. The Colorado Springs school was a great choice for me both academically and socially. I was challenged to think critically and globally and I was surrounded by like-minded students who all intended to go to college.
My senior year, as I set my sights on college, my mother and I began the search for scholarships. She saw an ad in the Colorado Springs Gazette for a scholarship pageant and we decided that I would enter. I was excited to have another opportunity to perform on stage and was hoping to collect a few dollars of scholarship money along the way. I placed 2nd runner-up in the 1994 Miss Colorado Springs Pageant and won a couple hundred dollars in scholarships.
It came as a surprise to both of us that I had entered a preliminary to the Miss America pageant. I had watched the Miss America pageant growing up, but like many children of color, never saw myself in any of the contestants that graced the stage. If we had known that Miss Colorado Springs led to the Miss America pageant, I probably would not have entered. However, the small taste of success motivated me to enter another local pageant where I won a title that earned me a spot at the state contest in Denver that summer. Not everyone in my life shared my excitement, though. My school counselor told me that the pageant was very competitive and that I should focus my energy elsewhere since it was unlikely that I would win. Even my great-grandmother, who had worked the fields in a segregated Colorado as a young woman, was convinced that I was wasting my time because “they’ll never choose a Hispanic for Miss Colorado.”
To everyone’s surprise, including my own, I was named 1st runner-up in my first state competition. Fresh and eager to try again, I came back the next year with bold enthusiasm. Not only did I not win, but I dropped to 2nd runner-up. Third year I was back in the 1st runner-up position. Always a bridesmaid. The crown seemed to be just out of reach.
The following summer, on my fourth attempt, I found myself in the familiar position of holding my breath as the judges’ decision was announced. 4th runner-up… not me. 3rd runner-up… not me. 2nd runner-up… not me. 1st runner-up… not me. So, of course I thought, “either I’ve won or I did so horribly that I didn’t place at all.” Then, the moment I had been waiting for…My name was announced as the winner of the Miss Colorado pageant.
The summer of 1997, I made history as the first Hispanic woman to wear the Miss Colorado crown. The community took notice and I enjoyed an outpouring of enthusiasm and support from our increasingly diverse state. The pageant board was less enthused. The micro-aggressions began immediately. On the day that I won, one former Miss Colorado (and soon-to-be board member) told a mutual friend that she would do “whatever it took” to remove me as Miss Colorado. Calls to book me for appearances went unanswered and certain sponsors, like the one who was to provide a $3,000 evening gown, suddenly got cold feet. The pageant board refused to meet weekly with me as instructed by the Miss America Organization, even though there were new rules for competition that year. In fact, my wardrobe coordinator was the only member of the pageant board who helped me prepare for Miss America at all, albeit in a limited capacity. My travel companion, who was investigated by the Miss America organization for reportedly making racist comments, explicitly told me that I should not have high expectations because when I didn’t win Miss America “it would be a mighty big fall.”
Out of over 12,000 state and local contestants, I was one of only 51 women to travel to Atlantic City for the chance be Miss America. For my talent, I sang “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina” in both English and Spanish. I was top 7 finalists for the “Quality of Life Award” in recognition for my community service work around dropout prevention, a first for my state. Although I did not place in the Top 10, it was the experience of a lifetime, one that no member of the board had the power to take away.
After the national broadcast in September 1997, I found myself in the familiar position of waiting by the phone for the pageant board to book appearances for me. I was required to take a leave of absence from school during my “year of service”, but was not allowed to take on a part-time job. It seemed as though the only appearance requests that were answered came from their own social circles. With permission from the board president, my mom and I started booking my appearances ourselves and I also got a job wrapping gifts at Dillard’s for the holiday season.
Then on New Year’s Eve 1997, I received a letter via FedEx from the pageant board. It plainly stated that, as of that moment, I was no longer Miss Colorado. I was instructed to place all of my prizes and the Miss Colorado crown in the John Elway dealership sponsored vehicle, drive it to the dealership, lock the keys inside, and leave. No reason was given.
At the same time I was processing the letter, the phone rang. It was the local news. The pageant board had sent them a FedEx letter too, announcing that my 1st runner-up was taking over as the new Miss Colorado. Again, no reason given. Because they gave no reason for my dismissal (called a “dethroning” by the press), the media had a field day trying to guess what horrible skeleton had crawled out of my closet. Who could blame them? The only point of reference they had for this kind of thing was Vanessa Williams, who had resigned as Miss America amid a nude photo scandal in 1984. She was the first African American to wear the crown.
Almost immediately, the Miss Colorado Organization splintered in a very public way. Resignations in protest of the board’s decision came from my wardrobe coordinator and several other pageant volunteers. When questioned about what I had done, the standard response from the remaining board members was, “We can’t tell you. We’re trying to protect Regina.” I had done nothing wrong and I challenged the board to come out with it. Of course, they had nothing to say. They expected that the media frenzy would die down after a while and that I would eventually go away quietly.
They knew that my working class parents did not have the money to hire an attorney (and they were right). What they didn’t count on was the overwhelming support I received from the community. Two attorneys came forward to take on my case pro bono: Michael Berniger, who I met through community service, and Walter Garash, a high profile civil rights attorney from Denver (he had previously represented John Denver as well as the Black Panther Party).
So, I did as I was told and locked up the John Elway car — in my parents’ garage — and I filed suit. Fast tracked to conclude prior to the next pageant that June, we had our work cut out for us; and so did the pageant board — who had yet to come up with an explanation for their actions.
As investigators from both sides got to work, so did the investigators for the National Inquirer, Dateline, Hard Copy, and other national media outlets. I conducted an interview, in Spanish, on a worldwide broadcast of “Aqui y Ahora” (Univision) and appeared on Dateline NBC, NBC Nightly News, and on the Leeza Show, where I met Sarah Ferguson, the Duchess of York. I was featured in People magazine, People en Espaňol, and on the cover of Latina Style magazine. Paramount Pictures even optioned the rights for a made-for-TV movie (which was never made). If I was lacking appearances before, I wasn’t waiting by the phone anymore. Severing ties with the pageant board was also profitable since I was able to keep 100% of my booking fees during our separation.
However, the fight was taking a physical and emotional toll. In addition to the media blitz (there was one night where we were watching TV and saw a reporter on our front lawn on the screen), constant ulcers in my stomach pulled at the uncertainty of what the next day would bring. Although the public was largely on my side, I did begin to receive hate mail and threats. I was even treated for a freak break out of hives — a reaction to the stress. There was the constant nagging question of whether or not I would go down in history as the first Hispanic to win the crown and the only one to lose it. The weight of the legal outcome was daunting, but I knew I had to keep going. How could I tell students, many of whom have experienced trauma much worse, to stay in school no matter what if I just quit when the going got tough?
In the end, the pageant board had nothing to stand on but their dislike of my assertiveness and persistence. The judge agreed, calling the board’s actions “ludicrous” and awarding me the return of the Miss Colorado tile and a host of punitive damages for various egregious behaviors by the pageant board including “intentional infliction of emotional harm and distress.” With a police escort, I attended the Miss Colorado 1998 pageant and crowned my successor.
This year, 2017, marks the 20th anniversary of my triumphant and turbulent year as Miss Colorado and it is the first time I have told this story (nearly) in its entirety. The lessons I learned at this pivotal moment in my life (and years of self-reflection) have carried over in my role as a teacher, instructional coach, and now an aspiring Principal. It is often persistence, the sheer will to push through — even when it is not easy or popular, that determines how these moments define us.
For more information and more photos, please visit Regina’s blog.
