Finding My Voice: Turning Pain Into Purpose

By Hailey Caine

One in three women will experience domestic violence in her lifetime. It is a statistic we hear often, but we rarely imagine ourselves living it. I was one of those women. 

I was driven, involved, and excited about my future. At 18, I had just been accepted to college, ready to step into a new chapter of independence and possibility. But what I thought was love slowly became something else, something controlling, isolating, and confusing. 

Abuse does not always begin the way people expect. It does not start with obvious harm. It starts quietly with control, with isolation, and with silence. Over time, I lost pieces of myself. I walked on eggshells, second guessed my words, and slowly became someone I did not recognize. Even then, I questioned whether what I was experiencing was “bad enough” to call abuse. That is the reality for so many. 

I competed in my first pageant when I was just 15, and over the past decade, I worked tirelessly, earning countless awards and first and second runner-up placements along the way. Now, at 25, I have won my first title, Miss Clovis 2026. But even as I celebrated accomplishments on stage, I was navigating a relationship that was slowly taking pieces of me away. I was one of those women who felt herself disappearing in the midst of abuse. Experiencing domestic violence can make a woman doubt herself, question her worth, and feel like she is losing who she is. It can make pursuing your dreams feel impossible when someone is constantly putting you down. 

Winning Miss Clovis became more than an achievement. It became a purpose. It became a way to show other women who have experienced abuse that they can reclaim their power, pursue their goals, and be seen. Through my Community Service Initiative, Hailey’s Voice, I raise awareness, provide resources, and create space for survivors to reclaim their power. I have shared my story in classrooms, at community events, and through a TEDx talk, using every opportunity to educate, inspire, and empower others. 

This journey taught me that resilience is not about avoiding hardship but about showing up, standing tall, and speaking out. The challenges I faced in my relationship gave me the empathy, courage, and determination to advocate for others who may feel trapped or unheard. This June, I will have the honor of competing for Miss California, continuing to use my platform to support survivors and amplify voices that deserve to be heard.

 
I share my story not because it is easy, but because it matters. If even one person feels less alone or finds the courage to seek help, then it is worth it. Survivors are more than a statistic. They are powerful, resilient, and worthy of being heard.

We all have a role to play. Pay attention. Ask the hard questions. Create spaces where people feel safe to speak. 

As I continue my journey as a titleholder and advocate, I am committed to turning pain into purpose and using my voice to uplift others. Together, we can break the silence, raise awareness, and create lasting change. 

Because love should never hurt.

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Hailey Caine is the current Miss Clovis (CA). You can follow her on Instagram, and her CSI Hailey's Voice. 

This is her first guest blog for Section 36 Forevers.

Your Title Account vs. Your Personal Account: How to Make Both Work

By: Dareliz Giselle 

Building a personal brand as a beauty queen is its part of the role. The crown brings visibility, expectations, and a platform. But one of the biggest challenges isn’t just showing up online, it’s knowing how to balance who you are with the title you represent. 

Social media creates a unique tension for titleholders. On one hand, there’s your “title account”: polished, aligned with the organization, and representative of a broader image. On the other, there’s your personal account, where your voice, personality, and real life moments live. 

The mistake many make is treating these as completely separate identities. The truth is: your strongest presence comes from learning how to connect both. 

Your title gives you authority, credibility, and reach. It places you in front of an audience that expects inspiration, leadership, and consistency. Your personal voice builds connection. It creates closeness, engagement, and a sense of familiarity beyond the crown. 

Another common challenge is knowing how much to share and how often. The pressure to stay visible can lead to overposting or, on the opposite end, holding back out of uncertainty. But presence is not about constant posting; it’s about intentional communication. 

Instead of asking, “What should I post next?” shift the question to: “What do I want to be remembered for during, and after, my reign?” 

Your content should reflect both your responsibility as a titleholder and your individuality as a person. That means showing up with purpose, maintaining alignment with your platform, and allowing space for authenticity. First of all: 

Define boundaries, not personas. Decide what belongs to your title (appearances, advocacy, partnerships) and what belongs to you (opinions, lifestyle, personality). This avoids confusion without forcing you to “split” who you are. 

Anchor everything to your platform. Whether it’s on your title account or personal account, your content should always connect back, directly or indirectly, to what you stand for during your reign. 

Use tone, not content, to differentiate. The difference between accounts shouldn’t be what you share, but how you say it. Your title account can be more polished; your personal account more conversational. 

Create a content rhythm. For example: 2–3 intentional posts per week on your title account, and lighter, more spontaneous content on your personal account (stories, behind the scenes).

Show the “in-between” moments. Your audience connects most with what happens around the crown, preparation, emotions, transitions, not just the official moments. 

Think long-term, not just reign-focused. Ask yourself: “Will this content still represent me well after my title is gone?” That’s how you build a lasting personal brand. 

Align visuals and voice across both accounts. Even if the tone shifts slightly, your aesthetic, values, and messaging should feel cohesive so people instantly recognize you. 

Engage as a person, not just a titleholder. Reply to comments, join conversations, and show presence beyond posting. That’s where real connection happens. 

Consistency doesn’t mean losing yourself to the role. It means ensuring that whether someone finds you through your title or your personal profile, they experience the same values, the same voice, and the same sense of identity. 

Because at the end of the day, your reign is temporary, but your personal brand is not. When you learn to align both, social media stops feeling like pressure. 

It becomes part of your legacy.

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Dareliz Giselle is an Integrated communications specialist. You can find her on her website. 

This is her second guest blog for Section 36 Forevers.

A Rural Princess

By Cydnie Clark

My name is Cydnie Clark, and I’m currently Miss Adirondack. I’ve been competing within the Miss America Opportunity for the past seven years, and every year has looked a little different… but growing up and competing in a rural area like mine has shaped my experience in ways I don’t think many people realize.

I’m from Lowville, New York, tucked into the Adirondack region. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows your name, your parents’ names, and probably what you drove to school. It’s beautiful, tight-knit, and deeply supportive… but it also comes with its own unique challenges, especially in an organization like ours.

In a community where many local businesses are doing everything they can just to stay afloat, sponsorship isn’t always easy to come by. There were years where I had to get creative, stretch every dollar, and rely on people simply believing in me rather than having the means to support me financially. And don’t even get me started on appearances in the winter… traveling across the Adirondacks from December through February is basically a test of faith, patience, and a good set of snow tires.

But there’s also something really special about being a titleholder in a place like this.

I’ve had little girls stop me in public and genuinely gasp, telling their parents, “She’s a princess!”—because they’ve never seen someone in a crown in real life before. Moments like that remind me that in rural communities, representation feels different. It’s more personal. It’s more tangible. You’re not just a titleholder… you’re someone they might actually know, or become.

There’s also a quiet resilience that comes from this environment. You learn how to build something out of very little. You learn how to connect with people in a genuine way. And you learn quickly that perception doesn’t always match reality. I’ve had people assume I was just another “pageant girl,” only to be surprised by the depth, ambition, and perspective I’ve developed through this experience.

Being a titleholder here has allowed me to bridge gaps that exist in rural communities, especially through my community service initiative, Aging with Happiness. In an area with a growing aging population and limited access to resources, I’ve been able to use both in-person outreach and digital platforms to connect generations, advocate for aging in place, and bring attention to issues that are often overlooked in smaller regions.

Competing from a place like Lowville hasn’t made the journey easier, but it’s made it meaningful in a way I wouldn’t trade. 

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Cydnie Clark is the current Miss Adirondack (NY). You can follow her on Instagram. 

This is her first guest blog for Section 36 Forevers.

From Cents to Confidence: Why Financial Literacy Is More Than a Piggy Bank

By Jaade Gillespie

One of the most common things I hear from my students is, “I’m just not good with money.”

And every time I hear that, I pause. Because most of the time, it has nothing to do with ability. It has everything to do with confidence.

I understand that feeling more than people might expect.

I didn’t grow up without conversations about money, but I didn’t always feel confident making financial decisions on my own. I knew it was important. I knew it mattered. But when it came to actually applying it in my own life, I often found myself second guessing.

I remember moments as simple as sitting there before making a purchase or decision, going back and forth in my head, wondering if I was doing the “smart” thing. Not because I didn’t care, but because I cared so much about getting it right that I wasn’t always sure I trusted myself to.

It was not a lack of exposure. It was a lack of confidence.

And once I recognized that, everything started to shift.

As I began learning more and actually applying it, things became clearer. Not overnight, but gradually. What once felt overwhelming started to feel manageable. What once felt intimidating started to feel empowering.

And more importantly, I started to trust myself.

Through my work with students, I’ve realized just how common that feeling is. So many young people think they are behind.

They hesitate to ask questions. They assume everyone else understands something that they don’t.

But when you create the space for honest conversations, you start to see the truth.

They are not behind. They just have not been given the confidence yet.

That realization is what led me to create LIFT, which stands for Learn, Invest, Finance, Thrive.

What started as a passion has grown into something I am deeply proud of. Through workshops, conversations, and simple, approachable tools, I have had the opportunity to work with over 300 students.

And as that work has grown, so has the impact—from launching my inaugural LIFT Scholarship to advocating for stronger financial literacy education across school districts in my state.

But in every room, I still see the same shift begin to happen.

It starts small.

A student asks a question they were too nervous to ask before.

Someone begins to think differently about saving.

Someone realizes they are capable of understanding more than they could have ever thought.

And then, slowly, that confidence builds.

That is the part people do not always talk about when it comes to financial literacy. Yes, it is about budgeting, saving, and making smart decisions. But it is also about something deeper.

It is about feeling in control of your future.

It is about trusting yourself to make decisions.

It is about removing the fear that so many people carry when it comes to money.

That is what changed for me. And that is what I want for every student I reach.

Because financial literacy is not just about managing money. It is about building confidence.

And when you build confidence, everything else begins to follow.

That is what LIFT is all about.

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Jaade Gillespie is the current Miss Blackstone Valley (MA). You can follow her on Instagram. 

This is her first guest blog for Section 36 Forevers.

From Survival to Service: Finding My Voice Through Pageantry

By Nazly Zoar

Growing up, my story began in a home shaped by resilience. My mother immigrated to the United States in search of a better life for us, but along the way, we faced the harsh realities of domestic violence. At a young age, I found myself navigating not only that trauma, but also a world where my mother didn’t speak English and relied heavily on me.

I stepped into a role many children should never have to becoming a translator, a protector, and in many ways, a second parent. While my mother was incredibly strong, hardworking and loving, there was an unspoken pressure I carried daily. At school, I was balancing academics while quietly holding the weight of my responsibilities at home. As a single parent household, we also relied on community resources like food banks and support services, which, at the time, felt overwhelming and humbling.

But through it all, my mother always showed me how to find light in the darkest moments. She taught me that receiving help is not something to be ashamed of, it is something that connects us as human beings. As I grew older, she encouraged me to give back through volunteering, and that experience transformed my perspective. It showed me the beauty in service, the strength in community, and the power of compassion.

Not long ago, my mother became a U.S. resident and I a U.S citizen, a moment that filled  us with pride and for me a renewed purpose. It inspired me to use my voice not just for myself, but for others especially women living in shelters due to domestic violence.

Through my platform, Sashed to Serve, I advocate for women’s rights, raise awareness, organize charity events, and work to distribute essential resources. One of my proudest initiatives includes providing menstrual kits and beauty supplies to women in need, because every woman deserves dignity, confidence, and the ability to feel like herself, no matter her circumstances.

Pageantry came into my life at a time when I was still finding my confidence. I was shy, unsure, and far from what I thought a “pageant girl” looked like I grew up on a farm and never considered myself particularly feminine. But through this journey, I’ve learned that femininity is not a mold it’s a choice, an expression, and a strength. Pageantry has shown me that I deserve to be seen, to take up space, and to have my voice heard.

It has also taught me that this is not just about competition, it’s about community. When every woman steps onto the stage with purpose, there is no rivalry, only opportunity. Opportunity to uplift, to collaborate, and to create meaningful change together.

Today, I continue to grow my platform with intention, using my voice and my reach to create impact. What once felt like hardship has now become my purpose and I carry that with me in every step I take.

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Nazly Zoar is the current Miss California Petite. You can follow her on Instagram. 

This is her first guest blog for Section 36 Forevers.

I AM: Turning Loss into Purpose and Giving Others a Reason to Stay

By Anistacia Aragon

On January 8th, 2020, I lost one of my close friends and classmates to suicide, and my life has never been the same. 

Suicide is, unfortunately, a common cause of death—but not a common topic of conversation. Globally, more than 700,000 people die by suicide each year, which is roughly one person every 40 to 45 seconds. These are not just numbers—they are people, families, and communities forever changed. 

After Tyler’s passing, my grief quickly turned into something even heavier. Because I was the last person to text him, I experienced intense cyberbullying. I was blamed for his death and called things no one—especially a 15-year-old girl—should ever have to hear. I remember sitting in my room, staring at my phone, watching message after message come in—each one more hurtful than the last—feeling like the world had already decided who I was, and that I didn’t deserve to be here. 

At the same time, the world shut down due to COVID-19, and isolation only amplified the pain. The bullying was constant, and I felt completely alone. My mental health reached its lowest point, and over the course of five months, I attempted to take my own life three times. 

After my final attempt in July of 2020, I made the most important decision of my life—to reach out for help. It wasn’t easy. It didn’t fix everything overnight. But it was the first step toward choosing to stay. Opening up to my loved ones didn’t erase the pain, but it reminded me that I wasn’t alone—and that my story wasn’t over. 

When I returned to school that August, I made a choice: I would no longer be reactive to what happened to me—I would be proactive in creating change. 

My Community Service Initiative, “I AM,” originally began with something simple—going into classrooms and talking about kindness. But over time, it has grown into something much greater. 

In 2023, I produced a fashion show for suicide awareness and prevention, raising over $4,000 that was donated to local suicide prevention programs in New Mexico. The show brought together 150 models and 21 designers, and more than 80% of participants had either struggled with their mental health, experienced suicidal ideation, or lost someone to suicide. It became more than an event—it became a space for healing, storytelling, and community. After one presentation, a student came up to me and said, “I didn’t think anyone understood how I felt until today.” That moment reminded me exactly why this work matters. 

Since then, my program has expanded to serve students of all ages. I now present in grades K–12, covering topics such as self-love, positive self-talk, healthy coping mechanisms, mental health awareness, and cultural appreciation. Over the past six years, I’ve had the opportunity to speak in over 100 classrooms across New Mexico. 

The newest branch of my initiative is “Raíces y Resiliencia,” which focuses on helping individuals find peace through dance. As a Ballet Folklórico dancer since the age of two, and a teacher for the past four years, I wanted to create a program that could offer others the same healing outlet that dance gave me. This past year, I founded a Folklórico group in Las Cruces, offering low-cost classes and creating an accessible space for self-expression. The program has since expanded into school outreach through after-school programs, community workshops, and performances, ensuring that culture, movement, and healing are available to all. 

Everything I do today is rooted in where I started—January 8th, 2020. In loss. In confusion. In a version of myself that didn’t think she would make it through. 

But I did. 

And because I did, I made a promise to turn my pain into purpose. 

What began as a young girl walking into classrooms to talk about kindness has grown into something far greater than I ever imagined. Through “I AM” and its newest branch, “Raíces y Resiliencia,” I’ve been able to create spaces where people feel seen, heard, and valued—whether that’s in a classroom, on a stage, or through the movement of dance. 

From producing a fashion show that gave a voice to over 150 individuals, to speaking in more than 100 classrooms, to building a community through Folklórico in Las Cruces—every step of this journey has been about one thing: making sure no one feels alone in their struggles. 

Because I know what it feels like to be that 15-year-old girl—grieving, blamed, isolated, and searching for a reason to stay. 
So this is bigger than a title. Bigger than a crown. Bigger than a competition. 

This is about changing the narrative. 

It’s about teaching the next generation that kindness is not optional, that mental health matters, and that healing is possible. It’s about reminding people that their story is not over—even when it feels like it is. Because the truth is, suicide doesn’t just take lives—it leaves behind silence, stigma, and unanswered questions. And the only way we break that cycle is by choosing to talk about it, openly and compassionately. 

If my journey has taught me anything, it’s this: we don’t have to wait for change—we can become it. 

And I will continue to use my voice, my platform, and my passion to ensure that no one ever feels like they have to fight their battles alone.

Because someone out there is still searching for a reason to stay—and together, we can be that reason.

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Anistacia Aragon is the current Miss Three Crosses (NM). You can follow her on Instagram. And you can also follow her CSI: I AM.

This is her first guest blog for Section 36 Forevers.