04/03/2026

LYFE WEDNESDAY | MAR 4, 2026

25

Ű BY SHIVANI SUPRAMANI

W HEN America’s Next Top Model (ANTM) first aired in the early 2000s, it was framed as a cultural reset. Created and hosted by supermodel Tyra Banks, the series positioned itself as gateway and protest, promising to challenge an industry long criticised for its rigid and exclusionary beauty standards. It arrived glossy and confident, insisting that fashion could be pushed to evolve. At the time, many viewers embraced that promise. We were teenagers and young adults glued to appointment television, repeating catchphrases in school corridors and office pantries the next day. The show felt daring and necessary. It sold the fantasy that ordinary young women could be transformed into high fashion contenders and that vulnerability, when placed under the right lights, could become power. Two decades later, Netflix’s Reality Check: Inside America’s Next Top Model revisits the franchise with the benefit of hindsight. Featuring interviews with former contestants, producer Ken Mok, Banks and judges including Jay Manuel, J Alexander and Nigel Barker, the documentary does not offer a simple redemption arc. Instead, it presents a reckoning that is at times uncomfortable and deeply emotional. Therefore, forcing viewers to confront not only what was broadcast but what may have unfolded behind the scenes. interrogation In the early 2000s, reality television was still finding its footing. Social media was nascent. Conversations about racism, consent, mental health and body image were not yet embedded in daily discourse. Shows were consumed weekly, discussed briefly and rarely revisited with the scrutiny that streaming culture now allows. Critiques were packaged as tough love. Extreme makeovers were framed as necessary growth. Emotional breakdowns were edited into gripping television. Tears became cliffhangers and conflict became currency. Many viewers interpreted the show’s confrontations as motivational rather than interrogating whether humiliation had been dressed up as mentorship. Archetypes such as the “angry Black woman”, the “insecure girl” or the “cheater” were accepted as part of the narrative without questions. We debated favourites, but seldom examined the machinery shaping them. Media literacy, in hindsight, was limited. Few of us had the vocabulary to ask whether certain scenes crossed ethical lines or whether distress was being amplified for ratings. If manipulation existed, it was absorbed as entertainment. Now: accountability in sharper focus Viewed through the lens of 2026, the same scenes feel jarring. Former contestants, including Ebony Haith and Giselle Samson, speak about the labels imposed on them, while Shandi Sullivan recounts how an alleged sexual assault was presented on air as a cheating scandal. The recontextualisation is sobering. Sullivan states no one intervened despite clear signs of intoxication, while Banks maintains that production decisions were not within Then: entertainment without

While Banks positions herself as pushing back against fashion’s rigid ideals, she frequently upholds the very standards she claimed to challenge.

Seeing through smize o How media literacy reshapes America’s Next Top Model’s legacy

The docu-series encourages viewers to reassess the franchise through a more critical and experienced lens. evolved. What once felt empowering now demands accountability, reminding us that representation without protection is not progress. Through a sharper lens of media literacy, the series shifts from fairy tale transformation to cautionary tale about power, profit and the real lives caught in between. Yet the story is not entirely one note. While ANTM undeniably built its empire at the expense of its contestants, often amplifying drama and vulnerability for spectacle, it also disrupted mainstream visibility at a time when fashion remained stubbornly homogenous. By placing women of different backgrounds, body types and personalities before a global audience, it contributed to a cultural shift that helped pave the way for today’s Instagram models, who command influence on their own terms and across a spectrum of shapes and sizes once sidelined by traditional agencies. The question that lingers, however, is not whether the show changed the landscape, but at what cost and to whose benefit. As viewers who have grown alongside the media we consume, we are left to consider not only how we were represented, but whether we are satisfied with the terms of that representation.

The documentary also revisits one of ANTM’s most dramatic makeover scenes, when Joanie Sprague underwent multiple tooth extractions in a bid to dramatically alter her smile. – ALL PICS FROM NETFLIX

to accept harm as entertainment.

comply. Years later, Banks explains that the decision reflected industry standards at the time. The irony is difficult to ignore. A programme that positioned itself as challenging narrow beauty ideals frequently reinforced them. In a later cycle, Chelsea Hersh was encouraged to widen her gap for a designer look, illustrating how individuality was shaped by whatever aesthetic was deemed marketable. Contestants have also described being underfed and overworked, experiences that clash with contemporary conversations around well-being. While the fashion industry continues to grapple with unrealistic expectations, there is broader acceptance today of diverse body types and a more nuanced understanding of health. That shift has been driven in part by social media, where audiences are more informed and less willing

her territory. That distinction lands differently today, given her role as executive producer. Journalist Zakiyah Gibbons suggests producers were consistently in Banks’s ear, keeping her informed of developments in the house, complicating the image of a concerned mentor. These perspectives raise questions that were rarely asked in 2005 but feel central now: who benefits from a particular edit and who is sacrificed for compelling television? Beauty standards under scrutiny The show’s makeover episodes were once considered iconic. Today, they are often revisited with discomfort. In Cycle 6, Joanie Sprague and Dani Evans underwent dental procedures, with Evans initially resisting the suggestion to close her gap before ultimately feeling pressured to

Representation without protection One of the documentary’s most unsettling revelations is that diverse leadership does not automatically guarantee ethical treatment. A Black supermodel, a Black runway coach, a queer creative director and an Asian American producer fronted a show that several contestants describe as racially insensitive and emotionally damaging. Keenyah Hill recounts experiencing sexual harassment during a shoot and being met with visible disapproval when she asked for it to be halted. Listening to former contestants describe arriving with hope, seeking opportunity or escape from difficult circumstances, only to feel exploited, adds a layer of complexity to the show’s legacy. Ultimately, the documentary highlights how far audiences have