For years, Leah Dortmann stood at the intersection of discipline and danger, wearing a correctional officer’s uniform in one of Queensland’s toughest environments. But behind the badge, Leah was silently unravelling.

Now 36 years old, the Brisbane-based beauty dons a very different crown – that of Mrs Universal Petite 2025 – and moves with the poise of a woman who knows what it takes to rise from rock bottom.

Her pageant journey began far from ballgowns and sashes, forged instead in army barracks and high-security prison corridors, where tenacity was survival.

“I served in the Australian Army, worked in corrections … environments where femininity was seen as weakness, not strength,” Leah says. At just 161cm tall, Leah’s blonde hair and Barbie-like persona meant she was often judged by appearance alone, yet beneath the surface she was busy proving her power in male-dominated spaces.

Leah’s time working in corrections was marked by a chilling encounter that left a lasting scar. An inmate, once under her supervision, embarked on a campaign of harassment, unwanted advances, threatening whispers and an unsettling obsession that refused to relent. The impact of the stalking didn’t stop at the prison gates, but followed her into her daily life, invading her sense of safety and peace. What began as subtle intimidation escalated into a pervasive presence that made even the simplest routines feel like acts of courage.

Workplace stress

Research shows that correctional officers often face high levels of workplace stress and harassment, with many experiencing significant mental health challenges as a result. According to a 2025 study by the BioMed Central, prison staff are the unhealthiest of all law enforcement personnel, with seriously compromised physical, mental and social health.

“I developed PTSD,” Leah says. “My apartment became a prison. I withdrew. Even stepping outside felt terrifying.” It was the start of a long, brutal battle with mental illness – a chapter marked by depression, anxiety and the kind of isolation that leaves a person unrecognisable, even to themselves.

And yet, in the thick of that darkness, pageantry emerged; unexpected, luminous and quietly life-altering.

On what seemed like just another lifeless morning, Leah lay curled on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. That’s when it appeared: an ad on Instagram, full of women in glittering pink gowns, with the words “Become the best version of yourself” in bold. Something about it stopped her. In that fleeting moment, amid the fog of hopelessness, a spark flickered – not of vanity, but of possibility.

Leah’s path to the crown wasn’t paved in rhinestones; it was built in quiet, relentless moments of healing – in therapy rooms where she learned to speak the words she once swallowed, in mirror stares that turned into affirmations, in late-night journaling that stitched her broken voice back together. She didn’t just walk across a stage, she reclaimed it. Her podcast Strength to Stand and her platform Unstoppable Her grew from the cracks she once fell through, now offering lifelines to women who feel invisible or unworthy.

“There were many moments I wanted to give up,” she says. “Pageantry looks glamorous, but behind the scenes, it’s emotionally intense.”

The power of the crown

While reigning as the Australian titleholder (and now International), Leah balances a business, her mental health and the constant pressure to perform. What pulls her through isn’t the crown. It is the commitment she made to herself and to the women watching.

“I remind myself of the girl who couldn’t leave her apartment. And I knew if I gave up, I wasn’t just quitting a title, I was quitting her. And I couldn’t do that.”

In 2023, Leah stepped into the national spotlight as Mrs Galaxy Australia, later earning first runner-up at the Galaxy International finals.

“I knew I wasn’t ready yet. It wasn’t my time,” she says.

Fast forward to this year, and her name echoed through the auditorium in the United States as the winner of Mrs Universal Petite 2025. In that moment, she says, time stood still.

“They called USA as first runner-up, and everything flashed before me; the PTSD, the nights on the couch, the doubts,” she says. “When they crowned me, it wasn’t just a win. It was proof that your past doesn’t disqualify you. It defines you.”

Now, Leah uses her platform to speak openly about trauma, resilience, and the courage to be seen. Whether it’s through interviews, mentoring or her podcast, she pours 110% into everything she does.

“I don’t strive to be perfect anymore,” she says. “I strive to be real. That’s what makes a true queen.”