This Controversial New Netflix Show Has My Friends Up in Arms—But I Find It Strangely Therapeutic

The first four episodes of America’s Sweethearts follow rookie candidates and seasoned veterans as they make their way through the audition process and into training camp. Newbies Charly, Reece and Kelly hope to dazzle the judges with their technique and style, while 5th-year vet Kelcey grapples with the bittersweet realization that this is her last season on the squad. Cuts can be made at any time (for any reason) and it’s clear the candidates have no idea when a new round is coming or if they’re on the chopping block.

I was flooded with empathy and understanding as I watched each hopeful cope with the stress. As a former college athlete and longtime dancer (from age 3 to 18), I can recall this uncertainty like an old friend. Am I good enough? Will they like me? Can I do this? For anyone who’s competed with the best or sought out a coveted spot, whether it be on a team, with a program or in a production, the threat of rejection is a universal truth (as is the call to your mom to share the bad news, as you croak out “hi” between heaving sobs). Watching these women work to achieve what they believe to be the pinnacle of their careers sent me right back to the many years I spent striving for the same thing, and boy was it cathartic.

On the flip side, we have Kat and Caroline, two recent DCC (as they're affectionately called) retirees who stay tethered to the team via friends, family and a yearning for purpose. As two of the more forthcoming characters on the show, Kat and Caroline share what life looks like after hanging up their pom poms. “When I was done, I felt like my anxiety was almost worse,” Caroline says, “because it was like wait, that was my thing. That’s what I did all the time. That’s what all my friends did.” She goes on to reveal, “I just feel fear of being judged or people thinking, ‘Gosh she really doesn’t know what’s next. She doesn’t have it all together.' I don’t know what’s next and I hate people asking me that because I hate having to admit it to myself or anyone.” Kat echoes a similar sentiment: “I should have my life figured out but no, I don’t. I don’t want DCC to be the highlight of my life, but it’s so hard to do it by yourself.”

Like many athletes at the end of their careers, I too experienced this same “what’s next” uncertainty. An anxiety fueled by finality and a lack of direction or identity, it can be overwhelming and isolating. Like Caroline, I felt both unease for what was to come and sadness for what I was leaving behind. “People say each chapter gets better… But does it always get better? I hope for me, the best is yet to come. But when I’m sitting here day after day, [it’s easy to think] ‘Did I just leave behind the best years of my life?’” A dubious question with no right answer, it's one I’ve asked myself often, throughout many stages of life, including hanging up my soccer cleats and closing out my 20s.

As entertainment goes, there’s no denying it’s a polarizing show. Between the obvious gender politics, insufficient pay and impossible beauty standards, I can see why so many viewers are put off. I, too, found certain parts infuriating and difficult to watch. But at its core, America’s Sweethearts is a tale as old as time: Young women striving for excellence in a world built by men and bolstered by myth. We could condemn them for trying or applaud them for persevering. I choose to do the latter, to see them as more than box-dye blondes and bendy brunettes, but as talented human beings with hopes, dreams and a damn good high kick.