Naomie Nishimwe is known to many as Miss Rwanda 2020, but in her new memoir More Than a Crown, she steps away from the spotlight and lets readers meet the person behind the title. In the book, she revisits the moments, struggles, and quiet victories that shaped her long before the cameras ever turned her way.

Speaking to The New Times, Nishimwe reflects on her childhood, the mental battles she rarely spoke about, and the realities of marriage that have shaped her long after the crown. And that’s exactly her book is all about.

"People knew me as Miss Rwanda,” she says, "but there was a Naomi before the crown, and after it.”

Before the Crown: Just a kid living a normal life

Nishimwe’s childhood wasn’t the fairytale many may imagine when they see her polished photos online. In her own telling, her family lived "somewhere in between” — not wealthy, not struggling at the very bottom, but with moments where money ran thin and dreams felt bigger than what was possible.

What stands out most in her memories, though, is not the hardship, but her family.

"I had the most beautiful parents,” she says. "Even with the little we had, they taught us to dream big.”

She attended primary education at Camp Kigali, close enough to walk each morning with her siblings, before switching to Glory for secondary school. Evenings at home often ended in prayer, a rhythm that grounded her long before fame ever entered the picture.

Her first brush with pageantry came in Senior Six (S6), when she contested for Miss High School. She didn’t win, but a spark had already been lit. And when she looks back, she realizes the signs were always there.

"As a child, I wore my mother’s heels and imagined myself on a stage,” she says, laughing.

The decision to join Miss Rwanda didn’t come from a grand plan. It came from a quiet moment, lying in bed, scrolling through her phone.

"I saw the application link and thought, ‘why not try?’” she recalls. "I didn’t overthink it. I just applied and, somehow, that one decision changed everything.”

The unseen weight of the crown

Winning Miss Rwanda crown in 2020 shifted Nishimwe’s life almost instantly. One night she was a student preparing for exams; the next, she was a national figure whose every move drew attention. The public saw the sparkle — the gowns, the stage lights, the media interviews — but the reality behind it was far more complex.

"People think once you have the crown, you have everything figured out,” she says. "But you’re still very young, still learning yourself, and suddenly everyone has a say on your life.”

According to the mental health advocate, being Miss Rwanda meant visibility, but it also meant pressure. Mistakes weren’t private; they were public conversations. Decisions weren’t personal; they became opinions online. And there was no guidebook for how to navigate any of it.

Still, Nishimwe doesn’t detach the crown from the opportunities it brought.

"It opened doors I might never have approached,” she reflects. "I wouldn’t be here today if I hadn’t dared to apply. Miss Rwanda gave me a platform, but it also stretched me in ways people never see.”

Naming what she was feeling: ADHD and mental health

One of the vulnerable parts of Naomie’s new book "More Than a Crown” is her reflection on mental health and the possibility that she has Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), a long-term condition that affects millions of children. It often continues into adulthood.

She describes patterns she noticed in herself: starting several things and not finishing them, difficulty staying focused, her mind constantly jumping from one thought to another.

"I’m still learning about it,” she says. "But I recognized myself in the descriptions, and I wanted to talk about it because awareness is a form of strength,” she noted.

ALSO READ: The hidden harm of cyberbullying: Why Rwandan youth need more than ‘just log off’

For her, speaking about ADHD and mental health openly is a way of pushing back against stigma, especially in African contexts where such topics are often dismissed or treated as something "foreign”.

"It’s okay to talk about it,” she adds. "It’s not shame. And if someone out there sees themselves in my story, maybe they’ll feel less alone.”

Marriage, therapy and growing together

Another revealing layer in More Than a Crown is how openly Nishimwe talks about marriage, not just the joys, but the moments that tested her and her husband Michael Tesfay with whom they got married in December 2024.

She says that, before getting married, they made the decision to go for therapy. But the real turning point came later, when they noticed that something between them wasn’t flowing the way it used to. There were moments of tension, misunderstandings, and a subtle feeling that love was beginning to wear thin in the day-to-day business of life.

"It wasn’t dramatic,” she explains, "but we could feel something wasn’t right. We needed help from people who are experienced — especially if you’re serious about building a future together,” she adds.

That honesty led them to therapy, this time not as a routine practice, but as an intentional effort to understand each other better. They’ve continued with it as a couple, and she says the sessions have helped them rebuild closeness, communication and patience.

For Nishimwe, therapy is not a sign of failure, it’s part of learning to grow with another person.

"Therapy doesn’t make you weak,” she says. "It can actually make you wiser.”

Learning to live together also meant navigating differences in personality. Nishimwe is expressive and energetic; her husband is calm, quiet, content with stillness. She laughs as she recalls moments when she misread his silence.

"In the beginning, he would come home tired and just want silence. I’d think, ‘So you don’t want to talk to me?’ But I’ve learned he just needs to recharge. When he’s ready, I’m ready too.”

Even everyday routines, like going to Kimironko market to buy groceries, slowly became part of her "new normal.” What started out as overwhelming — noise, crowds, and vendors calling her from every corner — eventually turned into familiar territory. She now has her regular fruit seller, her go-to spots, and people who greet her by name.

The hard chapters: high school grades, scrutiny and starting again

Some chapters in Naomie’s book were harder to write than others. She points to sections where she talks about "the mask of social media”, her relationship, and the moment her grades for advanced level national exams went public.

Writing about grief and private pain required revisiting moments she might have preferred to leave buried. But each time she shared, she felt herself getting lighter.

"The more I talked about what I’d been through, the stronger I became,” she says. "It didn’t make the experiences easy, but it helped me move through them.”

According the beauty queen, another heavy season was when her national exam grades became a public talking point. With the crown on her head, the criticism hit harder.

"People would say, ‘She’s pretty but has no brains,’” she recalls. "At some point I started swallowing what they were saying. I even asked my sisters, ‘Do you think I’m smart?’”

For a time, she hesitated to share her thoughts in public, afraid of proving the critics right. But eventually, she decided not to let anonymous comments define her.

"I know who I am,” she says. "I know what I’ve been through. I refused to let people who woke up on the wrong side of the bed write my story for me.”

One turning point came when she posted an Instagram story asking her followers how she had actually empowered them. The replies reminded her that, beyond the noise, there were real people who felt seen, helped, or encouraged by her journey.

"At that moment I joked, ‘It’s giving Oprah,’” she says with a smile. "But it also reminded me that there are people you inspire without knowing, and that matters.”

Who she wrote More Than a Crown for

Naomie insists her book is not limited to young women or to pageant fans.

More Than a Crown touches on childhood, self-esteem, mental health, relationships, social media pressure and faith. She believes anyone can find themselves in at least one chapter.

"There’s something we can all learn from each other’s lives,” she says. "I wrote this book for anyone who’s ever felt misunderstood, pressured, or called to something bigger than what people expect of them.”

If there’s one thing she hopes readers walk away with, it is the courage to dare.

"I want to dare someone reading this book to do something even bigger than I did,” she says. "If I hadn’t dared to go for Miss Rwanda, or dared to write this book after all the criticism, I wouldn’t be here.”

The lighter side

Away from the heavy themes, Naomie is still very much the lively, storytelling personality her family grew up with.

She jokes that her talent is "yapping for a living”, and admits she would happily swap lives for 24 hours with her nieces just to experience the freedom of a child’s day again, eat, nap, play, repeat.

Her go-to dance move?

She laughs and says she often tells her husband, who doesn’t like dancing, to just do a simple, subtle groove so he looks calm and collected, even though, in reality, she’s the one screaming and jumping when a favourite song comes on.

She loves dogs, keeps flight-tracking apps on her phone because she likes planes, prefers texting over calls, and chooses beach escapes over mountains any day.