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Cassandre Jacques and Miyuki Cruz stand at the intersection of beauty and identity, their paths crisscrossing the complex terrain of Dominican society’s perception of ethnicity. Jacques, a Dominican-Haitian model, and Cruz, of Dominican-Japanese heritage, have each embarked on public journeys meant to showcase their multifaceted backgrounds. Yet, the roads they have taken—marked by the divergent reactions of a society that both embraces and questions them—reveal deeper truths about acceptance, prejudice, and the performance of identity in a nation still grappling with its past.
Jacques entered the Miss World Dominican Republic 2024 competition representing San Juan de la Maguana with aspirations that mirrored her dedication and grace. What started as a celebration of her talent soon spiraled into a debate about identity and belonging. Having previously represented Haiti in an international pageant, some critics questioned her right to represent Dominican interests, branding her as an “outsider.” The conversations online were intense and divisive, with defenders stating, “Es racismo y del peor,” while others resorted to disparaging remarks that laid bare enduring issues around heritage and identity.
In her statement, Jacques conveyed a blend of poise and weariness. “With a heart full of mixed feelings and after profound reflection, I have decided to withdraw from the Miss World Dominican Republic competition,” she wrote, her words filtered through the soft lens of diplomacy. Yet beneath the polished phrasing lay a thorny reality: a society still struggling to reconcile its divided legacies.
Cruz’s journey offers a different portrait. Born in Japan, raised in the Dominican Republic, and embodying the merging of disparate worlds, she has captured the public’s imagination. Her participation in the Miss International competition, a venture rooted in dreams of multicultural harmony, has been met with open arms. Supporters point to her resilience—she speaks of overcoming bullying in her small Japanese village, of finding acceptance in Santo Domingo, and of her mission to promote inclusion. “I want to embrace differences,” Cruz says, her words resonant with polished grace, crafted as much for her audience as for herself.
Where Jacques has faced sharp scrutiny, Cruz has received a flood of accolades. The reason lies not solely in their heritage, but in what each heritage represents to a Dominican society still contending with the shadows of its history. Cruz’s story is compelling but lacks the loaded weight of centuries-old conflict that haunts Jacques’s Haitian roots. This dichotomy between them—the warm embrace for one, the cold judgment for another—maps the contours of prejudice still woven into Dominican identity.
Yet, beyond the pageantry and headlines, both women are symbols of resilience. Jacques, in choosing to step away, sparked uncomfortable conversations; Cruz, in stepping forward, offered an idealized vision of what multiculturalism could be. Together, they reflect a society that both yearns for transformation and remains bound by old prejudices.
Their journeys underscore both the promise and the challenges of representation. Jacques and Cruz, each in their own way, shine a light on the progress made and the obstacles that endure—highlighting a delicate balance between acceptance and exclusion, and revealing a nation still wrestling with its identity and history.
