Eyes on the Prize
With Halloween just around the corner, I’ve been deep in party-planning mode. The theme is locked in, the playlist is shaping up, and naturally, people are coming in costume. Which brought me to the age-old host dilemma: To contest, or not to contest?
My initial thought was, Of course we need prizes! But then my core Millennial instincts kicked in. I instantly began calculating how to ensure no one went home empty-handed or feeling snubbed for their effort. What if I create personalised, hyper-specific categories on the fly? “Best Feline” for the person in cat ears, “Most Elaborate Headdress” for the guest with the biggest hat, “Best Use of Cardboard,” and so on. Everyone gets a custom ribbon, everyone gets a goody bag full of treats, and nobody leaves feeling like a runner-up. A literal win-win-win situation. What could be better?
Then I caught myself and paused: Is this just my wimpy Millennial heart ruling my brain? Am I overthinking a room full of adults who just want a cider, snacks, and a fun night out? Or is there actually a place for “everyone gets something” when the stakes are literally zero? To figure that out, it’s worth untangling where this whole debate comes from in the first place—and why the narrative around it gets so twisted.
If you grew up in the 90s, you’ve almost certainly heard the standard cultural critique: Millennials are soft because they were raised on participation trophies. We were allegedly pampered with plastic ribbons for 7th-place soccer finishes and gold stars for just showing up to the science fair, leaving us unable to handle second place in the real world. But let’s pause and do a quick timeline check. In the 1990s, who was making the rules? Who was ordering the custom ribbons, organizing the Little League banquets, and setting up the science fair guidelines? It wasn't the kids. It was the Boomer and early Gen-X adults—parents, coaches, teachers, and school boards. If participation prizes became a cultural standard during that decade, it wasn’t because eight-year-olds staged a union walkout demanding ribbons. It was because the adults wanted to encourage kids, keep them engaged, cushion bruised elbows, and ensure sportsmanship didn't turn into tearful car rides home. The irony of blaming an entire generation for a system created for them by the generation above them is one of the great head-scratchers of modern pop culture history.
When social critics rail against participation trophies, they are usually talking about competitive environments—sports, academics, or careers—where objective standards and clear winners drive improvement and reward excellence. And in those contexts, sure, a clear 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place makes complete sense. But a low-stakes Halloween party in a living room with your friends is not the Olympics. Nobody is competing for a medal or a college scholarship here; they spent three hours gluing felt onto a sweatshirt after work on a Tuesday. And I think those three hours deserve candy. Lots and lots of candy.
When it comes to casual gatherings among friends, hyper-specific or non-competitive prize categories actually serve a totally different purpose. They acknowledge effort over outcome, which, again, in this context, is really the name of the game. Some people have weeks to craft a screen-accurate cosplay; others had twenty minutes after work to pull together a clever pun. Acknowledging a niche detail ("Best Hand-Crafted Accessory" or "Most Creative Use of Household Items") celebrates the labour and humor people are bringing to the party. Plus, these kinds of prizes break a little ice between strangers. Calling out playful, ultra-specific categories at the end of the night turns into a shared joke and a moment to applaud everyone’s personality. And finally - it’s a party! Goody bags are just plain fun! Getting a small bag of treat-size candy, a spooky enamel pin, or a funny ribbon triggers a universally joyful nostalgia. Nobody is walking away thinking, "Aha, my 'Best Feline' title proves my costume was objectively superior to all others! Mwa ha ha!" They’re just thinking, "Yay, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups - my fave."
So, is handing out custom, hyper-specific prizes or goody bags to everyone a sign of "Millennial soft-heartedness"? Maybe a little bit—and honestly, what’s wrong with that? Warmth, hospitality, and making sure your friends feel seen and appreciated for showing up are good things. Hospitality isn't about setting up an elimination bracket for your friends; it’s about making sure everyone has a good time and leaves feeling glad they came. So if you’re throwing a casual Halloween party, I say go ahead and award Best Headdress, Most Dedication to a Pun, or Best Feline. Hand out those treat bags with zero guilt. After all, we didn't invent the participation trophy—but if we choose to turn it into an excuse to give our friends extra chocolate, maybe the 90s got something right after all.
Jennifer