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There’s a moment every queen remembers. For Ahtisa Manalo, it came with a hug. “I opened my eyes because Ms. Cebu hugged me,” she recalled of that surreal instant her name was called as Miss Universe Philippines 2025. Surreal not because she didn’t think she could win, but because—for the third time running—she tried. This time, the universe finally said yes.
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Meant for the Miss
It’s easy to paint a comeback as a fairytale. The swelling music, triumphant walk, Jewelmer crown on gloved hand. But real comebacks are messier—like tumbling mid-stride, on live TV, in front of a nation that already believes you’ve won.
“I’ve tried so many times,” she said, ticking off her attempts. “2015, last year, and now this year.” But the crown didn’t come gift-wrapped in perseverance alone—it was, as she put it, “accumulated life experience”. Pageant bootcamps are one thing; heartbreak, grief, and the timing of an open slot in your home province are another.
Suffice to say, the year before the crown wasn’t her best. “Maybe I’m too old for pageants. Even my family and friends would ask me, and I’d tell them, I’m done with it,” she said. She had ended a long-term relationship. Her grandmother passed. A family situation escalated. And quietly, a part of her shut the door on pageants, until it opened again.
“I wasn’t supposed to be the candidate,” she admitted. Quezon Province already had its bet—until that candidate bowed out. But the timing didn’t feel random to her. One sign after another began appearing, subtle but persistent, like the universe nudging her forward. “I took it as a sign. Maybe it’s meant for me.”
Falling Into Place
The evening gown segment is a test of presence, pressure, and elegance that holds even when everything else trembles. Spotlights, sequins, and that slow glide down the runway—Manalo appeared on stage in a pink beaded Val Taguba gown, its shimmer a spell of enticement. But the floor, slick as glass, and the stairs, dizzyingly steep, seemed like a trapdoor in disguise.
Then, she fell.
For a candidate of her caliber—already crowned in hearts—a fall like that could have fractured the moment. The journey to the crown, no matter the stumble, is already unforgiving: all eyes, bright lights, and no room for pause. If the floor was testing her, it clearly picked the wrong queen.
Manalo didn’t flinch, though something flickered in her eyes—a flash of fear that the crown might’ve slipped with her footing. But she stood back up in her Jojo Bragais heels, brushed off both gravity and doubt, and walked on like nothing happened.
“I just told myself, ‘I need to stand up.’” No internal drama, no panic, but a decision to rise. “Maybe they’ll forget if I don’t say anything,” she added, half-laughing, like someone who’s clearly made a career of composure.
It was the same backstage after the fall. “Honestly, I didn’t really think of it even after it happened,” she said. “To me, it was just something that happened. I told the girls after that, ‘Oh my God, I fell again.’”
Yes, it wasn’t her first tumble. She had also slipped during the national costume competition the night before. The drama of the moment didn’t stick to her the way it stuck to viewers. “It’s just something that happened. It’s not a big thing. Of all the things I’ve experienced in life, a fall is not really that big of a thing.”
Maybe that’s what struck a chord more than the gown or the walk: how she wore the fall. “I don’t know how other people would have reacted,” she said. “But for sure, doing something on stage, not deviating from your plan, but having something happen like that—something other people might even find embarrassing—it shows character, in my opinion, how you react to it.”
The internet, of course, didn’t forget. Manalo, however, didn’t mind. “My friends told me, ‘Baklang bakla ang itsura mo nung tumumba ka.’” She owned it, even found it funny. “I had to sell it,” she said, fully aware that recovery can be its own performance art.
The Crown, Eventually
It wasn’t smooth or staged, but in hindsight, it felt strangely precise. “I wouldn’t change anything,” she said as someone who understands that every misstep, every heartbreak, every year spent waiting sharpened the edge of this exact moment. Regret, it turns out, has no place in her vocabulary. Not for the falls. Not for the years of training. Not even for the heartbreaks that came before the crown.
“That’s something that is consistent throughout my life. I’ve been through so many things that other people might have wished they didn’t go through, but I don’t regret things that I did or things that I went through because, as corny as it may sound, it made me who I am today.“
– Ahtisa Manalo
When asked if this win felt like closure or a beginning, Manalo paused—briefly, thoughtfully—then offered, “I always see opportunities like this as a new beginning, a new pathway to something even better and greater.”
If nothing else, the best part is she’s not doing it alone anymore. “Before, it was just me and my team. Now, I have all of the Filipino creatives working with me toward Miss Universe.” The pressure is still there, yes, but so is the support system. “We’ve seen how Miss Universe brings together Filipino creatives and talents into making sure that we do a great job at showing what a Filipino is in the global stage.”
What’s a victory without a few falls along the way? Ahtisa Manalo no longer has to chase the crown. Falling wasn’t the failure. Falling is universal. Rising with dignity? That’s rarer than the crown itself.
Photography by JERICK SANCHEZ. Art Direction by ANDREW ENCAPAS and BRIE VENTURA. Styling by ROKO ARCEO assisted by ERICA TEROL. Makeup by TEAM JIM RYAN ROSS. Hairstyling by CULTURE SALON. Sittings Editor MIA CASTRO
Special thanks to MISS UNIVERSE PHILIPPINES and EMPIRE/MERCATOR TALENT AGENCY
