By Jeanni Ritchie
By the time Dance Moms aired in 2011, The Hills had already ended with the revelation that much of the series was scripted. Reality wasn’t reality, and drama meant ratings. While I hadn’t actually watched the MTV show, I did watch the Lifetime dance series and assumed much of it was for show.
Surely Abby Lee Miller wasn’t that awful, I thought. I imagined everyone laughing and going to dinner after the director yelled, “Cut!”
As the series wore on—and more and more legal battles surfaced—it became obvious that at least some of the drama was real. But it wasn’t until I read Bottom of the Pyramid: A Memoir of Persevering, Dancing for Myself, and Starring in My Own Life by Nia Sioux that I realized what we saw on screen was only the tip of the iceberg.
At times, I had flashbacks to the Larry Nassar trial—another moment when I felt guilty as a consumer. While I’d been cluelessly enjoying gymnastics and comparing dismounts, young girls were being abused. Now here I was again, after eight seasons of dances and drama, discovering that psychological abuse had been far more real—and far more pervasive—than I’d understood.
Nia Sioux (Frazier) pulls back the curtain on her time at the Abby Lee Dance Company, including the years before Dance Moms was even a concept. And she brings the receipts.
From the very beginning, it was clear that Nia was telling her story from a place of healing. I understood that from my own writing. A memoir written from peace reads differently. But pragmatic retelling alone doesn’t erase trauma. That takes work.
Nia Sioux did the work.
Cast on a show centered on dancers and their mothers, Nia’s qualifications often seemed to matter less than her race—a fact Abby Lee Miller complained about repeatedly. Nia was consistently placed at the bottom of the pyramid, Abby’s weekly visual hierarchy of merit.
The implication was that Nia simply wasn’t as good as the other girls—a subliminal message that some viewers echoed as well. Over time, she learned not to react or show emotion, refusing to be baited for ratings.
I used to think Nia seemed a little clueless, her blank expression lingering as drama unfolded. I had no idea it was a mask—one that concealed years of prejudice and pain left on the cutting room floor. Had viewers seen the full extent of what was said and done, the show would have been viewed very differently from the start.
Why did she stay if it was so bad? It’s the question people often ask. One by one, others left—most citing the toxic environment—until Nia was the only original cast member remaining. Proud of honoring the commitment she made when the show began, she held onto hope that her contributions would eventually be recognized.
They never were by the woman whose name was on the studio. But the platform did open doors—music videos, outside choreography, and an Off-Broadway production. Those opportunities fueled her perseverance and affirmed her talent.
Since the show ended, Nia has continued to thrive. Acting. Dancing. Singing. She dreams of one day becoming an EGOT winner.
I have no doubt she will.
Jeanni Ritchie is a contributing journalist from Central Louisiana. She can be reached at jeanniritchie54@gmail.com.
