_1758552064.webp)
In the glittering world of pageants, where spotlights pierce the air and dreams collide with reality, few moments are as triumphant as the crowning of a new Miss America. On September 7, 2025, in the vibrant heart of Orlando, Florida, Cassie Donegan, a 28-year-old powerhouse from New York, stepped into that spotlight and claimed the crown. Representing the Empire State with poise and passion, Donegan's victory was a culmination of years of dedication, talent, and unyielding determination. Her performance—a soul-stirring rendition of an original song that blended vulnerability with vocal prowess—captivated judges and audiences alike, earning her not just the title but also a $50,000 tuition scholarship and an additional $3,000 for her preliminary talent showcase. Yet, in an era where social media amplifies every whisper into a roar, this pinnacle of achievement was almost immediately eclipsed by a storm of online criticism. Trolls and detractors zeroed in on the most superficial of elements: her pageant makeup, deeming it "too heavy" under the unforgiving stage lights. Some went further, rallying behind runner-up Sadie Schiermeyer of Texas, insisting she was robbed of the win. What could have been a fairy-tale ending twisted into a digital battlefield, testing Donegan's mettle just as her reign began.
But Cassie Donegan is no stranger to adversity. In an exclusive interview with Fox News Digital mere days after the coronation, she addressed the backlash head-on, her voice steady and her spirit unbroken. "The reality is, when something big happens like this, there are going to be many opinions," she shared, her words carrying the weight of someone who has navigated far rougher waters. "Yes, there is negativity out there, and that is their truth. But I’m surrounded by so much love and support, and I’m not allowing it to overshadow this incredible moment." This isn't mere platitude; it's a philosophy forged in the fires of personal hardship, one that Donegan has wielded like a shield throughout her life. As the newly minted Miss America, she stands not just as a symbol of beauty and grace, but as a beacon of resilience, reminding us all that true victory lies not in silencing critics, but in rising above them.
The Anatomy of the Backlash: Makeup, Memes, and the Social Media Maelstrom
To understand the fervor that greeted Donegan's win, one must first delve into the peculiar beast that is online discourse surrounding beauty pageants. The Miss America competition, once a bastion of swimsuit parades and talent showcases, has evolved in recent years to emphasize scholarship, advocacy, and empowerment. Yet, for all its progressive strides—ditching the swimsuit segment in 2018 and amplifying social impact initiatives—the event remains a lightning rod for aesthetic judgments. On the night of the finals, broadcast live from the Walt Disney Theater, Donegan's look was meticulously crafted for the stage: bold contours to combat the washout effect of bright lights, shimmering eyeshadows to draw the eye, and a flawless base that held up under hours of performance. It was, by pageant standards, textbook perfection—designed not for the Instagram close-up, but for the grandeur of live theater.
Enter the trolls. Within hours of the crown being placed on her head, X (formerly Twitter), Instagram, and TikTok lit up with critiques. "That makeup is giving clown vibes under those lights—Sadie deserved better," tweeted one user with over 50,000 followers, a post that garnered thousands of likes and retweets. Hashtags like #MissAmericaMakeover and #SadieForQueen trended briefly, fueled by edited screenshots and side-by-side comparisons that cherry-picked unflattering angles. Detractors argued that Donegan's look veered into "dated" territory, evoking comparisons to early-2000s pageantry rather than the "fresh-faced" aesthetic they championed for Schiermeyer, whose natural glow and minimalist vibe had charmed many during the preliminaries. Some comments veered into outright cruelty: accusations of "trying too hard" or implications that her style betrayed a lack of sophistication. It was a classic case of the internet's schadenfreude machine, where a moment of joy for one becomes fodder for the masses.
This isn't isolated to Donegan; it's a rite of passage for pageant winners. Recall Vanessa Williams, the first Black Miss America in 1984, who faced racist vitriol that nearly derailed her career. Or more recently, in 2022, when Miss America 2023 Grace Stanke endured memes about her Midwestern roots and "boring" talent. The pattern is clear: elevate a woman to icon status, and watch the keyboard warriors descend. Psychologists attribute this to a mix of envy, anonymity, and the dopamine hit of viral outrage. A 2023 study from the Journal of Social Media Studies found that negative comments on high-profile women spike by 300% post-victory, often focusing on appearance as a proxy for deeper insecurities. For Donegan, the makeup critique served as a Trojan horse for broader dismissals—her age (28, older than many competitors), her non-traditional background, even her vocal style, which some deemed "too emotional" for the polished pageant palate.
Sadie Schiermeyer, the 24-year-old Texan runner-up, became an unwitting mascot for the dissenters. A former college athlete and advocate for mental health awareness, Schiermeyer's poised interview responses and elegant evening gown walk had positioned her as a frontrunner in betting odds. Her talent—a contemporary dance routine addressing body positivity—resonated deeply, earning high marks from judges. When Donegan was announced as the winner, Schiermeyer's gracious smile masked what some fans perceived as disappointment, and clips of her reaction went viral, interpreted through the lens of "robbed." Schiermeyer herself has remained above the fray, posting a congratulatory message on Instagram: "Cassie, you inspire us all—proud to call you my sister in this journey." Yet, the online echo chamber amplified the narrative, turning a competitive rivalry into a faux controversy.
Donegan's Defiant Response: Owning the Narrative with Grace
If the trolls expected Donegan to crumble, they misjudged their target. Far from retreating, she emerged from the digital fray with a response that was equal parts empathetic and empowering. In her Fox News Digital sit-down, conducted amid the post-coronation whirlwind of interviews and appearances, Donegan dissected the criticism without a trace of bitterness. "Beauty is subjective, especially in a space like this where everything is magnified," she acknowledged. "Under those lights, you need coverage that lasts—it's not about caking it on; it's about survival on stage." She laughed lightly as she recounted sourcing much of her kit from affordable drugstore brands like Maybelline and e.l.f., a far cry from the couture beauty regimens of some predecessors. "I spent maybe $50 total on makeup. If that's what they're mad about, hey, I'm winning on budget."
This candor is quintessential Donegan—a blend of humility and hustle that endeared her to fans even before the crown. But her defense ran deeper than cosmetics; it was a manifesto against letting external noise dictate self-worth. "I refuse to let it cloud this achievement," she reiterated, her eyes lighting up as she spoke of the "incredible moment" that still felt surreal. Surrounded by a phalanx of supporters—family, fellow contestants, and a swelling online community of well-wishers—Donegan described the backlash as "noise in the background." Her inner circle, including her mother, who has battled health issues for years, served as her anchor. "They remind me why I started this: not for likes, but for impact."
In a broader sense, Donegan's stance reframes the conversation around pageant culture itself. Long criticized for perpetuating unrealistic beauty standards, Miss America has pivoted under CEO Gretchen Carlson's leadership to prioritize substance over surface. Donegan embodies this shift; her platform, "Voices United: Bridging Divides Through Authentic Connection," focuses on fostering dialogue in polarized times. The makeup melee, she suggested, underscores the very divides she aims to bridge—superficial judgments that obscure shared humanity. "If we're critiquing eyeliner instead of celebrating stories, we're missing the point," she mused. By owning her look unapologetically, Donegan isn't just defending herself; she's challenging the status quo, proving that Miss America can be both glamorous and grounded.
A Backstory of Grit: From Struggles to the Spotlight
To truly appreciate Donegan's resilience, one must rewind to her roots—a narrative as compelling as any talent routine. Born and raised in a modest neighborhood on Long Island, New York, Cassie grew up in a lower-income household where resources were stretched thin. Her father, a U.S. Navy veteran who served in the Gulf War, instilled in her a profound sense of duty and perseverance. "Dad would tell stories of boot camp, how the hardest days built the strongest sailors," she recalled in the interview. "That mentality shaped me—no excuses, just effort." Yet, the family's challenges extended beyond finances. When Cassie was just eight, her mother suffered the first of multiple strokes, plunging the household into a whirlwind of medical bills, therapies, and emotional turmoil. "Mom was our rock, and watching her fight back was my first lesson in resilience," Donegan said. "We didn't have much, but we had each other."
School years brought their own battles. Bullied for her thrift-store clothes and the visible strain of her family's circumstances, young Cassie retreated into music. "Kids would mock my lunch—peanut butter sandwiches every day because it was cheap," she shared candidly. "I'd come home crying, but Mom would put on records—Whitney Houston, Aretha Franklin—and we'd sing until the hurt faded." This sanctuary of song became her lifeline. By high school, Donegan was penning original lyrics, channeling pain into poetry. A standout moment came during a talent show where her rendition of "I Will Always Love You" earned a standing ovation, silencing doubters and igniting a spark. "That was when I realized my voice could be a weapon—for healing, for hope."
College amplified her trajectory. Enrolled at New York University on a partial scholarship, majoring in vocal performance, Donegan juggled classes, part-time jobs (waitressing at a diner, tutoring music), and local gigs. It was here she discovered pageants—not as a path to glamour, but as a vehicle for scholarships and visibility. Her first competition, a state preliminary in 2019, was a baptism by fire: underfunded, underprepared, she placed in the top 10 but learned volumes about stagecraft and self-advocacy. "I showed up in a borrowed dress and homemade props," she laughed. "But I spoke my truth about growing up resilient, and it connected." Year after year, she climbed the ranks, winning Miss New York in June 2025 after a grueling talent round where she debuted "Echoes of Strength," an original ballad about overcoming adversity. The song, now streaming on Spotify with over 100,000 plays, weaves her mother's recovery with broader themes of empowerment—a fitting anthem for her reign.
This backstory defies the stereotype of the pageant princess. "That's not the background people usually associate with Miss America," Donegan noted, her tone laced with pride rather than pity. "But if you allow circumstances to control your outcome, you might never get to stand in spaces like this." Her victory, then, is a radical act of reclamation. The $50,000 scholarship will fund graduate studies in music therapy, a field she's passionate about for its healing potential. "I want to bring music to hospitals, to kids like I was—scared, but unbreakable." And the $3,000 talent award? It's earmarked for community workshops, teaching songwriting to underserved youth. In Donegan's world, success isn't hoarded; it's multiplied.
Beyond the Crown: A Platform for Inspiration and Unity
With the crown comes responsibility, and Donegan is wasting no time leveraging her title for good. Her commitment to role-modeling shines brightest in her outreach to young girls, a demographic she knows intimately from her own bullied past. "I want them to believe in themselves, because if they don’t, no one else will," she declared. "If there’s even a small part of me that inspires them, then I’ve done my part." Already, she's fielding invitations for school assemblies and virtual Q&As, where she'll share not just glamour tips but grit strategies—how to tune out taunts, harness hurt into hustle. One early initiative: partnering with Girls Inc. to launch "Crown Your Strength," a program blending self-esteem workshops with songwriting sessions. "Pageants taught me poise, but life taught me power," she says. "I want every girl to feel that."
Her military lineage adds another layer to her advocacy. As the daughter of a Navy vet and sister to a soon-to-be enlistee, Donegan's pride in the armed forces runs deep. "My family’s service is woven into my DNA," she explained. "From Dad's deployments to my brother's upcoming basic training, it's a legacy of sacrifice." This heritage informs her vision for Miss America as a unifier. In a nation fractured by politics, pandemics, and cultural clashes, she sees the pageant as "a safe space where people of different backgrounds can come together, share their truths, and connect authentically." Her platform emphasizes "unity through dialogue," drawing from personal experiences of bridging divides—whether comforting a fellow contestant from a rival state or facilitating veteran support groups through music.
Imagine the possibilities: Donegan hosting cross-aisle listening sessions, where red and blue voters swap stories over coffee; or touring military bases with morale-boosting concerts, blending patriotic anthems with her originals. "Once we hear and understand each other, unity can begin," she affirmed. It's a timely message, echoed in her first official post-crowning speech, where she invoked the late Senator John McCain's call for "country over party." Critics might dismiss it as naive, but Donegan's track record—mediating school conflicts as a teen, volunteering with interfaith youth groups—suggests otherwise. Her authenticity cuts through cynicism; after all, this is a woman who funded her pageant run through gig economy side hustles, not daddy's dime.
The Bigger Picture: Redefining Beauty, Resilience, and Relevance
Cassie Donegan's story transcends the sash and scepter; it's a microcosm of broader cultural reckonings. In an age of filter-fueled facades, her embrace of "real" makeup—drugstore dupes over designer decadence—challenges the $500-billion beauty industry's chokehold. "There are no rules that say you have to come from a certain background to be Miss America," she insisted. "Your circumstances do not decide your outcome." This ethos resonates amid economic anxieties, where 40% of Americans live paycheck-to-paycheck, per a 2025 Federal Reserve report. Donegan's win signals that aspiration isn't gated by wealth; it's accessible through will.
Moreover, her response to trolls models digital citizenship for a generation drowning in doom-scrolling. Mental health experts praise such approaches: a 2024 APA study links positive reframing to reduced anxiety in public figures. By focusing on love over loathing, Donegan doesn't just protect her peace; she disarms detractors, inviting them into her narrative. Sadie Schiermeyer, too, has amplified this, collaborating on a joint TikTok series promoting "kind commentary" in competitions. Together, they're rewriting the script—from rivalry to solidarity.
As her year unfolds, expect Donegan to dazzle: perhaps a national tour with her scholarship band, or a TED Talk on resilience. Wins like hers bolster Miss America's relevance, with viewership up 15% in 2025, per Nielsen. Yet, the true measure isn't ratings, but ripples—the girl in a Long Island classroom who sees herself in Cassie's story, the veteran finding solace in her songs, the divided community mending through her words.
In the end, the trolls' tantrums fade, but Donegan's decree endures: Believe in yourself, bridge the gaps, and let love lead. Miss America Cassie Donegan isn't just wearing a crown; she's crowning a movement—one authentic, unapologetic step at a time.
