The Crown Doesn’t Make You Strong… Healing Does

An opinion piece by Crystal Crowell, MSW (Miss Black DC USA)

Being a Black woman can feel like walking a tightrope made of excellence, edged with expectations. When I first stepped into the world of pageantry, I thought confidence was something that was earned, one crown at a time. I believed that if I just did enough, became enough, perfected enough, I could outrun the shame, fear, and heartbreak I’d buried. That success would finally silence the insecurities I carried with me.

But here’s what no one tells you: perfection is a powerful mask.

And behind mine was a woman who was tired.

Tired of always proving.

Tired of always performing.

Tired of never feeling good enough.

For years, I mistook perfection for protection. I convinced myself that if I could meet impossible standards, academically, professionally, emotionally, I could finally earn the love, acceptance, and recognition I longed for. But perfectionism didn’t protect me. It trapped me. I wore resilience like a badge of honor and used my feelings of inadequacy as fuel. I thought being hard on myself was the price of excellence.

And yet, heavy is the head that wears the crown, not because of the crown itself, but because of what we carry underneath it: imposter syndrome, the fear of being found out, the shame of falling short, the exhaustion of trying to be everything for everyone.

It wasn’t until I unraveled that I finally understood:

The crown didn’t make me strong.

Healing did.

Healing taught me that rest is a birthright, not a reward. That ease is a form of resistance in a world that demands we be hard to survive. That true leadership isn’t about being flawless, it’s about finding balance, standing in your truth, and learning to be gentle with yourself.

Authenticity came to me in the quiet, messy moments no one claps for:

Resting even when I felt guilty.

Choosing grace instead of punishment.

Learning to talk to myself like someone I love.

Today, I’m proud to wear this crown but I’m even prouder of the woman I became to earn it. I no longer mistake it for a cure. It’s not a mask for my pain, it's a mirror for my healing. It reflects the parts of me I fought to reclaim: my voice, my vulnerability, my truth.

You don’t need a crown to prove your worth.

You already are.

And your power isn’t in how perfectly you perform it’s in how bravely you embrace yourself.