Everyone deserves a second chance, but not for perceived 'merit'

The controversy surrounding Tangia Zaman Methila is uncomfortable, but extremely necessary to confront. Before any discussion of patriotism or pageantry begins, it is important to state clearly what she was accused of: filming a man inside a bathroom while he was urinating. The video was taken without consent. In any reasonable context, this is not mischief. It is a violation of privacy that borders on criminal behaviour. She then later joked about it as a "funny prank on a friend", before publishing an apology on her socials, still defending the action as a "prank".

It is tempting to celebrate her ascent on the Miss Universe stage in Thailand and fold her journey into a familiar narrative of triumph. None of this denies her hard work. Pageantry demands discipline, composure and relentless preparation.

Our country, however, has a habit of letting achievement protect people from scrutiny. The moment someone represents the country, we are expected to soften our questions. Patriotism becomes a cushion. That instinct explains much of the current reaction surrounding Tangia: the rush to defend her because she "makes Bangladesh proud", the pressure to vote, and the insinuation that criticism is driven by jealousy rather than legitimate concern.

This pattern is not new. We saw it when Shahadat Hossain played cricket after being apprehended for domestic abuse, and again when Noble Man's continuously dangerous antics were waved off as a "rockstar's life".

The situation around Tangia has intensified because of another factor: the coordinated push by Bangladeshi celebrities urging people to vote for her. Many of these requests appear almost identical in tone and timing, which creates the impression of a public relations (PR) campaign rather than spontaneous goodwill. There is nothing inherently wrong with PR, but when accountability issues remain unaddressed, a polished voting push feels like image management rather than genuine support.

Meanwhile, the only "apology" widely circulated from Tangia, in an interview with a national daily, includes the line that "bad people will say bad things". It is difficult to interpret this as remorse. A sincere apology acknowledges harm, avoids deflection and does not imply that criticism is malicious. A brief social media remark cannot substitute for a clear acceptance of responsibility.

All of this unfolds against the backdrop of a country where victims of misconduct already struggle to be heard, especially when the victim is a man.

Even within the world of pageantry, behaviour has consequences. Contestants around the globe have lost titles for inappropriate conduct, contract violations or controversies that undermine their position. Pageants, despite their glamour, have long held participants to standards that go beyond appearance.

But during moments of global visibility, Bangladesh tends to pivot to defensive patriotism. We tell ourselves that this is not the "right time" to discuss prior behaviour, because a rare spotlight has landed on the country. Yet accountability becomes more important when platforms grow larger. Representation expands responsibility; it does not shrink it.

And here lies the central truth: everyone deserves a second chance, but not because of perceived merit. Not because someone is talented, beautiful or standing on an international stage. Second chances are earned through honesty, apology and accountability. They do not arrive automatically with fame.

This is why the discussion around Tangia matters. Not because she should be vilified, and not because people cannot grow from mistakes, but because we cannot continue normalising the idea that success is a substitute for responsibility. Someone can represent Bangladesh and still be expected to answer for their actions. Achievement does not absolve harm.

We owe empathy to individuals, but we owe honesty to society. If we want a healthier culture—one where misconduct is addressed at its roots—we must resist the instinct to let "merit" overshadow accountability. If we take pride in Tangia's success, we should want her to rise to a higher standard rather than be shielded by a lower one.

And yes, like everyone else, I want her to win. I simply do not want her to win by setting the wrong example.