Averie Bishop on Being Miss Texas, Inclusive Education, Beauty Pageants, and More

Averie Bishop wants to make beauty pageants into a platform for social activism.
Miss Texas Averie Bishop
Britan Robertson

Student debt brought Averie Bishop to the world of beauty pageants. As a law school graduate who hails from McKinney, Texas, she looked to pageants as a way to pay back her loans. She won the Miss Texas America title in 2022 — becoming the first Asian American woman to wear that sash and gown — and has since dedicated the past year to redefining the ideas people have about Texas and transforming beauty pageants into platforms for social activism.

Though she represents the Lone Star State, Bishop is not afraid to speak out against the regressive policies Texas has implemented recently. When the legislature sought to ban diversity, equity, and inclusion offices on public college campuses, she went to the Texas Capitol to talk with representatives about the importance of diversity in curricula. As part of her platform “Y’all Means All,” she has traveled to schools statewide, promoting diversity initiatives and encouraging compassion across communities — something, she notes, Texas lawmakers could learn a little something about.

Bishop’s tenure as Miss Texas ended at the beginning of July. She’s not sure what the future has in store for her, but one thing is clear: She’s not leaving Texas. “We're going to drain all of the younger generations by telling them they need to leave and go off to New York and California," she says. "We forget that there are people in communities worth fighting for here in Texas.” 

Bishop is hopeful for the future of Texas, as communities of color continue to grow and young people start running for office. When it comes to dreams, as the saying goes, everything is bigger in Texas.

Teen Vogue catches up with Bishop via Zoom to discuss how she represents her state and what comes next.

Averie and Mom Marevi Bishop

Averie and her mom, Marevi Bishop

This conversation has been condensed and lightly edited for clarity.

Teen Vogue: People often have a narrow view of what it means to be a Texan. Especially as a young woman of color, what does being a proud Texan mean to you?

Averie Bishop: I think of the perception of Texans as independent, stubborn white men in chaps and cowboy boots who are unwilling to listen and learn from other communities and people, but Texas is changing very quickly — it’s changed a lot in the past five years. We're now a majority-minority state, and I've had the honor of living here and getting to see that change myself, through my own eyes. 

To be a Texan is to truly stand your ground for what you believe in, but also to have the humility and skills to find common ground with anybody. A lot of my efforts are to advocate — especially as the composition of our communities continues to change in the Lone Star State — so that people can have conversations with people from different communities. Often there's a lack of that among minority communities like mine and not-so-majority white communities now.

TV: In the past year, while you've been Miss Texas, the government has passed bills limiting diversity and inclusion offices on college campuses and continued its antiabortion crusade. How have you used your platform to speak out?

AB: A lot of my work and advocacy occurred before I even won the sash and crown. In undergrad, at Southern Methodist University [SMU], I was a human rights major, which is probably the most liberal degree you can get on the face of the planet. To study and have that major in Dallas, Texas, of all places, was already an act of advocacy — fighting for the protection of marginalized communities. 

During that time, I found my voice through my diversity and inclusion department at SMU, as well as my human rights family. My honors fellowship was fighting for access to comprehensive sexual education here in Texas. I got to work with companies or nonprofits like Planned Parenthood, and use my platform on social media to combine my advocacy and have a larger reach. All of these efforts started a couple of years before I even became Miss Texas. 

When I became the first Asian American [Miss Texas America], I was a little hesitant about my prior advocacies because I was afraid of what these conversations would look like when I wore that sash and crown, especially as the first woman to look like me and exist in spaces that have long been for only a particular community.

But in my time as Miss Texas, I've been able to go into public schools and talk about the importance of, essentially, just not being racist to people — and doing it in a way [that works] for third graders. Teaching them with acronyms like GROW: give kindness, respect others, have an open mind and open heart, and welcome differences. When we can have these conversations with kids who are five or six, they can take this education and these tools and speak among other people who don't look like them. 

But it was definitely an uphill battle. When [the DEI law] SB 17 was passed [recently], I felt like everything I had fought for was thrown into the toilet and drowned. But I'm still fighting the good fight. It's unfortunate to see Texas moving in the wrong direction — just completely backward. But I think our fight is worth it, especially for planting seeds to see that change occurs within the next decade.

TV: How did people receive you bringing in these ideas as you traveled across the state?

AB: One of my first Miss Texas tours was in south Texas, in Karnes County. Karnes City has [around] 3,000 people — smaller than the small town where I was born and raised. So I went to this small town, and there I am with my school programming and resources that teach about diversity, equity, and inclusion, that there should be no discrimination based on not just the color of your skin but also your gender identity, your sexual orientation, your religion. That all of these things should be appreciated and respected. 

I was nervous and hesitant. But as I delivered these programs in Karnes County, it was wildly accepted, acknowledged, and, honestly, loved. A lot of teachers came up to me in these public schools, wishing we had a curriculum that taught this in all classes.

So it's strange to see politicians and people in power within state government [who are] not on the ground asking teachers what they need and want for their students. I'm going in as Miss Texas, talking about these difficult subjects that don't need to be difficult or something that poses some sort of insensitivity or offense to people. 

The more we talk about these things, the more I exist in this space and speak loudly, the more people are going to be willing to listen. I just don't think we have had enough people willing to go into the smaller communities and just speak.

Averie fundraising for Texas Cares for Children

Averie fundraising for Texas Cares for Children

TV: Do you have any stories that stand out from working with those students?

AB: Gosh, I remember walking into a third-grade classroom… This young kid in the front stands up immediately when I walk in with my sash and gown. She says, “You're not Miss Texas. You're not white and blonde — that’s what she looked like last year.” I was usually quick to take offense when people questioned my legitimacy, when they were like, “Oh, my God, you don't look like a typical Miss Texas.” Through that experience — this happened early on for me as Miss Texas — I quickly learned that it is no fault of their own that they've never seen someone like me in this position. Whenever I’m met with that kind of [comment] by a third grader, it's such a great opportunity to start that conversation, to segue into a lot of the programming I teach. It’s to teach these kids that a Texan can look like you and a Texan can look like me. There is no right or wrong way. I can't wait to see how we reshape our understanding of what a true Texan looks like.

TV: Beauty pageants have historically been very white and blonde. They’ve received a lot of criticism for objectifying women and reinforcing rigid beauty standards. I’m curious about what it means to you to redefine the space of pageantry, to actually be inclusive and empower young women.

AB: Initially, I started for scholarship money, and the intention of the Miss America Scholarship Competition is to provide a platform for women to express themselves in their own way. But there is a lot of tension and pressure to look a certain way, to speak a certain way, even to sit a certain way. One of my favorite things post-Miss Texas is that I don't have to sit so straight anymore. This means a lot not only to my current self, but to my six-year-old self. I always think about the younger person I was growing up, and how just placing myself in a space where I historically did not belong takes a lot of boldness and bravery.

I'm so proud to be able to inspire other women to get involved: a range of women from different sexual orientations, with various dress sizes, different religions, from different financial classes. I'm very proud that I can inspire and even empower these women to pursue it now. But I'm even more proud that I decided to give myself an opportunity to try these hard things, because now that I've shown that you can try, more women will get involved and continue changing systems from within that have historically been somewhat oppressive to women, that have been somewhat creating this perception of what a woman should look like.

TV: Now that you’ve finished your tenure as Miss Texas, what’s next?

AB: Oh, my gosh. I talked to my therapist about this, because I feel like I was moving 80 miles per hour for 365 days. I'm being pulled in so many different directions and am very privileged to have so many open doors. 

Originally, I was a musical theater major, my freshman year; I loved performing and that was the first place where I realized that representation really matters. So I was doing musicals at the end of my year [as Miss Texas] too. 

But now I'm trying to take it day by day. I'm speaking at the White House soon. So I'm like, Let's just do that first and then determine what I want long-term. I’m thinking in the next four to five years, I might run for office, but I don’t know. “Governor Bishop” sounds really cute.

I wish [more] youth would run for office more often. I feel we convince ourselves that we don't deserve to try, but we need to grant ourselves permission to pursue opportunities, even if we fail — especially in Texas.

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