From the very beginning of Dance Moms, the Lifetime reality show that premiered in 2011, viewers were thrown into a world of high-stakes drama. The pilot episode itself opens with a scene of a minister storming into Abby Lee Dance Company, interrupting a practice to confront Abby Lee Miller. The issue? Her daughter, Regan, was allegedly kicked out of acrobatics for wearing socks. Abby, true to her infamous persona, dismisses the mother and daughter, even calling young Regan “pathetic.” This explosive moment, escalating into a police call, immediately paints a picture of warring factions: Abby Lee Miller and her dedicated dancers versus the supposedly overbearing and dramatic mothers.
This initial conflict set the tone for a show that thrived on the tension between Abby’s demanding methods and the mothers’ fierce protectiveness of their children. However, years later, Regan and her mother revealed in a TikTok video that the sock incident was preceded by Miller making comments about the 10-year-old’s weight and intelligence. This revelation hints at a calculated approach to drama, suggesting that these confrontations might not be as spontaneous as they appeared. This was seemingly part of Abby’s controversial method, her belief in pushing children to tears in the studio to prepare them for the harsh realities of auditions.
The first season continued to deliver storylines ripe with conflict. Controversies erupted over the young dancers, aged 6 to 13, wearing what some deemed overly sexualized costumes. Viewers witnessed injuries being downplayed, the sole Black dancer on the team facing racial typecasting, and concerns about the emotional impact of a dance routine centered around missing children. In each instance, the mothers clashed with Abby, often voicing the sentiment, “they’re just kids.” Abby’s unwavering response? This is the price of success in the dance industry; she was simply preparing them for the future.
As the years passed and Dance Moms became a cultural phenomenon, many of the dancers and their mothers began to speak out about the reality behind the reality TV. While they maintained that the show wasn’t handed to them as a formal script, they revealed a crucial truth: the dramatic peaks and valleys were often orchestrated by producers. Numerous producers, predominantly male, worked behind the scenes, actively encouraging conflict and rivalries between the mothers. According to cast members, many of these explosive arguments would dissolve into laughter the moment cameras stopped rolling, further blurring the lines between reality and performance. This raises the central question for many viewers: Is Dance Moms A Scripted Show in disguise?
Despite the manufactured drama, what makes Dance Moms so compelling is its inadvertent glimpse into the darker side of child stardom. Beneath the staged arguments and competition wins, the show exposes the transformation of children into commodities, employees expected to perform at any cost. This exploitation manifests in several disturbing ways. The forced sexualization of young girls, evident in costume choices and choreography, is a recurring theme. The relentless pressure to prioritize performance above physical and mental well-being is constantly on display. Racism, though often subtle, is present, exemplified in Abby’s problematic advice to the team’s Black dancer to use her race to her “advantage.” Children are exposed to adult themes and emotional distress to create “entertaining” content. And perhaps most unsettling is the intentional isolation of the children from their families, who are often portrayed as obstacles to success by the all-knowing industry figures.
These harsh realities, depicted so vividly in Dance Moms, are now being openly discussed by former child stars like Miley Cyrus, Drew Barrymore, Jeanette McCurdy, Melissa Joan Hart, and Brooke Shields. Dance Moms, however, offered a real-time, unfolding illustration of these struggles, years before these conversations became mainstream.
For many viewers who grew up watching Disney Channel and Nickelodeon shows portraying idealized versions of child stardom, Dance Moms was a jarring awakening. Shows like Hannah Montana, Sonny With a Chance, iCarly, and Victorious presented a world where fame was fun and fulfilling. Dance Moms, in stark contrast, evoked a sense of unease. While there were moments of humor amidst the mothers’ bickering, watching Abby throw a chair at a 13-year-old Paige or relentlessly criticize Chloe, whose storyline often revolved around being second best, was deeply uncomfortable. It was a stark, and perhaps unintended, portrayal of the pressures and emotional toll of the child entertainment industry. The fact that Paige Hyland’s family sued Abby after the chair incident underscores the real-world consequences of the show’s manufactured drama.
While reality TV has undoubtedly become more sensationalized in recent years with shows like MILF Manor and Couple to Throuple, it has also become more carefully controlled and sanitized behind the scenes. Reality TV, by its nature, is often exploitative, asking individuals to expose their vulnerabilities for entertainment, often for little financial reward. However, a significant shift has occurred in what viewers are allowed to witness. On shows like Love Island, the constant filming, lack of outside contact, and restricted sense of time are rarely acknowledged on screen. Similarly, Love Is Blind initially concealed the less-than-glamorous living conditions of contestants, who were reportedly housed in cramped trailers. The focus is now on curated narratives of smiles and gratitude for “the experience.” The tell-all accounts and lawsuits that inevitably follow, revealing racism within franchises like The Bachelorette, the pressure to engage in heavy drinking on Real Housewives, or injuries on sets like the Squid Game spin-off, are often treated as shocking deviations from the expected narrative, rather than inherent consequences of the industry.
Production companies have become acutely aware of the risks of providing unfiltered access to the realities of reality star lives. The result is a more polished and less revealing depiction of ordinary people thrust into the spotlight. Since Dance Moms, it’s difficult to recall another show that so readily exposed the raw experiences of child stars before they became adults with carefully constructed narratives.
This sanitization is further amplified in the current era of mommy bloggers and TikTok-born child stars. In this new frontier of child labor, regulations are even more lax, and the content presented, often controlled directly by the stars or their parents, is meticulously curated to eliminate controversy.
Looking back at Dance Moms clips, the stark contrast to today’s child star portrayals is evident. The raw, often uncomfortable, reality of Dance Moms feels closer to the experiences of Brooke Shields in Pretty Baby or Evan Rachel Wood in Thirteen than to the carefully managed image of shows like The D’Amelio Show. Hulu’s The D’Amelio Show, which purported to offer a glimpse into the “real life” of TikTok sensations Charli and Dixie D’Amelio, presented a world where online negativity and general anxiety were the primary antagonists. The D’Amelio sisters insisted that the perks of fame – Teen Choice Awards, designer clothes, fashion lines – outweighed the downsides. While ostensibly raising awareness about cyberbullying, the show also functioned as aspirational content, showcasing the family’s immaculate California mansion and their seemingly perfect, on-trend lives.
This carefully constructed image stands in stark contrast to the fluorescent-lit, somewhat dilapidated Pittsburgh dance studio that served as the primary setting for Dance Moms. While both the D’Amelio parents and the Dance Moms claimed their children could opt out of the industry at any time, their actions often belied this assertion. However, unlike the D’Amelio parents, who were consistently portrayed as supportive and competent, the Dance Moms were frequently villainized, often by Abby herself. The family dynamics in Dance Moms were messy and passionate, far from the lacquered perfection of mommy blogs. Despite their own ambitions for their children’s fame and fortune, the Dance Moms’ struggles to navigate the precarious path of child stardom felt undeniably real. Many held jobs, some were single mothers, and all were primary caregivers. Even if some conflicts were amplified for television, the emotional core of their reactions – their fierce protectiveness and their moments of losing control when their children were criticized – resonated deeply. They gambled on the promise of success, often returning to the studio despite the emotional toll. This raw vulnerability is rarely seen in the highly curated world of child influencers today.
While the D’Amelio family navigated business meetings with executives and recording studios in LA, the Dance Moms troupe traveled to regional children’s dance competitions in school auditoriums. Viewers witnessed the children crying as their mothers, simultaneously bickering amongst themselves, painstakingly applied makeup and sewed costumes. The mothers justified the bullying and pressure by rationalizing that Abby Lee Miller was the best instructor, their children had close friendships at the studio, and this path was their ticket to a professional dance career.
The most poignant aspect of Dance Moms was its often-understated stakes. Despite the intense drama, the ultimate prize was frequently a local dance competition trophy. This, paradoxically, made the show even more impactful. While Maddie Ziegler did achieve mainstream fame through Sia’s music videos, and other girls gained opportunities, the overarching narrative was one of attrition. One by one, the dancers, overwhelmed by the drama and pressure, tearfully left Abby Lee Dance Company. The original cast members have since navigated varying degrees of fame, now largely controlling their public image through carefully curated social media profiles. They have found a new form of fame, one that allows for a level of control absent during their Dance Moms years. One can only hope that behind the perfectly filtered posts, their families are providing the support and care they need. — LM
