Like Miss America, Miss Italy has made the audacious decision to honor tradition by announcing that only biological women would be permitted to vie for the esteemed title. The event’s creator, Patrizia Mirigliani, resolutely declared that Miss Italy will preserve the essence of authentic womanhood in the competition and refuse to jump on the flashy bandwagon of trans activism.
Recent Miss Netherlands pageant events, in which a biological male winner emerged victorious, have provoked intense discussions and outcries of transphobia from numerous quarters. Miss Italy, however, is unwavering in its determination to uphold the competition’s integrity and honor the natural beauty of women who identify as female.
Mirigliani gave a clear response to the issue when she said, “I think it’s a bit ridiculous that beauty contests have been trying to make the news lately.” However, Miss Italy will not sacrifice its morals in the name of political correctness. Participation is restricted to biological women; individuals who do not identify as such are not permitted.
Miss Italy has welcomed applicants with tattoos, piercings, and hair weaves as a way to accommodate changing social norms throughout the years. But the pageant crosses the line when it comes to redefining what it means to be a woman.
“Since its inception, our competition has upheld that participants must be women from birth,” Mirigliani added. This choice is a reflection of our awareness that beauty may change and that we must stick to our essential principles. We will not compromise on what it means to be a woman, but we will celebrate individuality and expression.
Rikkie Valerie Kolle, the transgender winner of the Miss Netherlands contest, talked about her experience and path toward empowerment. Although Miss Italy’s victory demonstrates her personal development, her unwavering choice pays homage to the pageant’s heritage of showcasing female beauty and its history.
Their conviction has not wavered in the face of the controversy regarding Miss Italy’s position. They remain steadfast in the face of opposition and criticism, refusing to yield to contemporary narratives that seek to conflate the distinctions between the biological sexes.
Conservatives everywhere are praising Miss Italy for her choice to honor custom and stress the value of honoring women who have encountered particular difficulties and experiences. Many people view the pageant as a timeless institution, thus it is admirable that Miss Italy is committed to maintaining its historical roots.
Even though the world is changing quickly, Miss Italy is still a steadfast champion of femininity who presents women’s beauty in its purest form. As the tournament go forward, it sends a strong message to aspirant women everywhere, encouraging them to embrace their individuality and inherent beauty instead of letting attempts to redefine womanhood get in the way.
In a culture where limits are being pushed, Miss Italy’s choice shows that customs don’t have to be given up in order to welcome change. They continue to provide an enticing platform where women may shine, inspire, and make a lasting impression by being true to their ideals.
The Miss Italy pageant is an institution that celebrates femininity, honors history, and highlights the strength of being a woman, not merely a competition. Miss Italy remains steadfast and unwavering in its dedication to womanhood and encouraging future generations of women as the journey progresses and new tales are recorded.
Old Woman Brought Sons Favorite Pastry to His Grave And Found a Note upon Her Return, Story of the Day
For Nancy, her son Henry was everything. She couldn’t imagine life without him. It had been 23 years since the tragic accident that claimed Henry’s life, and every year on the anniversary, she honored his memory by bringing his favorite pie to his grave. But this year, something unexpected was about to happen.
For over two decades, Nancy, now 61, never missed a year. She would bake Henry’s favorite pie—an apple and cinnamon delight—and take it to his resting place. The scent of apples and cinnamon always brought back memories of her little boy eagerly running into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the fresh pie. It had been a tradition they both loved, a way for her to stay connected to him even after he was gone.
Since the accident that took Henry’s life at 17, this ritual became Nancy’s way of coping with her grief. The pain of losing him never truly left her, but baking the pie gave her a small sense of comfort, a way to feel close to her son.
On this particular day, as she carefully carried the freshly baked pie to the cemetery, the weight of the dish seemed heavier than usual. She placed the pie on Henry’s grave, gently running her fingers over the smooth stone that had become so familiar. “I miss you every day,” she whispered softly. “I baked your favorite pie again… I wish we could share it just one more time.”
With a heavy heart, she kissed her fingers and touched the gravestone, saying her quiet goodbye before leaving, as she always did. But the next day, when Nancy returned to clean up, she noticed something shocking—the pie was gone. Instead of the untouched or spoiled pie she usually found, the plate was empty. And on it was a folded piece of paper.
With trembling hands, Nancy opened the note. The handwriting was shaky, and it simply said, “Thank you.”
Anger surged through her. Who would take Henry’s pie? It was a private ritual, a way to honor her son, and now a stranger had intruded on that sacred moment. Determined to find out who had taken the pie, Nancy decided to take matters into her own hands.
The next day, she baked another pie and placed it on the grave, but this time, she didn’t leave. She hid behind a nearby tree, watching and waiting. After an hour, she saw a small figure approach. It wasn’t the thoughtless thief she imagined—it was a young boy, no older than 9, with ragged clothes and dirt on his face.
Nancy’s heart softened as she watched the boy kneel by the grave. He pulled out a scrap of paper and carefully wrote, “Thank you,” just like before. He wasn’t stealing out of disrespect; he was simply hungry.
As the boy reached for the pie, Nancy stepped out from her hiding place. Startled, the boy dropped the pie and backed away in fear. “I’m sorry,” he cried, “I was just so hungry. Please don’t be mad.”
Nancy’s heart broke for him. She knelt beside him and spoke gently, “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m not mad. What’s your name?”
“Jimmy,” he whispered, ashamed.
“Well, Jimmy,” Nancy said with a soft smile, “you don’t have to steal. If you’re hungry, all you had to do was ask.”
Tears welled in Jimmy’s eyes as he explained how little he had to eat and how much the pie had meant to him. Nancy couldn’t help but think of Henry—how he had never known hunger, how he had always had more than enough. Jimmy, on the other hand, looked like he had been living with hunger for far too long.
“Come with me,” she said, standing up and offering her hand. “I’ll bake you a fresh pie, just for you.”
Jimmy hesitated, unsure if he could trust her, but eventually took her hand. Nancy led him back to her home, where she prepared a pie, just as she had done so many times for Henry. As the warm scent of apples and cinnamon filled the kitchen, Jimmy watched in awe. When the pie was ready, she placed it in front of him.
“This one’s all for you,” she said with a smile.
Jimmy took a bite, his eyes lighting up with joy. “This is the best pie I’ve ever had,” he said, his voice full of gratitude.
As she watched him eat, Nancy felt something she hadn’t felt in years—a deep sense of peace. For so long, she had baked pies for a son who could no longer enjoy them, but now, she was sharing that love with a boy who truly needed it. In some small way, it felt like Henry had brought Jimmy into her life, a reminder that love and kindness should always be passed on.
By the time Jimmy finished the last slice, Nancy’s heart was full. She realized that this unexpected connection was perhaps Henry’s way of showing her that even in her grief, she could still bring comfort to others. Maybe this was her new purpose—honoring Henry by helping those in need.
As Jimmy looked up with a smile, Nancy felt warmth and gratitude in her heart. She had found a new way to carry Henry’s memory forward, and it filled her soul with peace.
Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
Leave a Reply