06. Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: the epitome of girlhood or just a shiny facade?

how it marries the best and worst parts of being a girl

I want to preface this piece by saying that I’m writing from my typical perspective of being an avid consumer of pop culture; I don’t like football and know very little about it. And as far as my cheerleading experience goes—it starts and ends with first grade Pop Warner.

So while I’m not a fan of the Dallas Cowboys by any stretch of the imagination, I have been watching CMT’s Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team since it started in 2006 (I was 16 then? Insane, actually) and ended in 2022.

While the new Netflix docuseries—directed by the same man who directed Netflix hit Cheer—has tried to separate itself from the original show, it’s impossible to do so. They both hit largely the same beats and take viewers along on a journey about how difficult it is to make the team and the blood, sweat, and tears that goes into the process. There are a few differences; while the Netflix show has very obviously gotten a production upgrade, it also dives deeper into the mental and physical toll that the team takes on its cheer superstars, while the CMT series spent more time on actual dancing and choreography.

I’m deeply surprised that Netflix was given such access to the team, considering the series paints a dark picture of the DCC. A picture that is lightly touched on in the CMT series—through derisive comments about the girls’ bodies, for example—but is only compounded in the new series.

In the Netflix series, viewers get a painful glimpse into the emotional toll that high-pressure team exerts on its dancers through four-year veteran, Victoria, whose anxiety over making the team for the fourth time vibrates onscreen. A legacy with a mother who used to be a former DCC herself, 23-year-old Victoria is (somewhat) open about the fact that she has struggled with an eating disorder, a fact that is particularly difficult to swallow in the larger context of the DCC—viewers of the CMT show will remember that in Victoria’s first year trying out for the team, she was told at 18 years old that she needed to tone up her tummy, that it was being noticed by the judges. Her slight weight gain was deemed “unacceptable.”

Yet another dancer, a five-year veteran by the name of Caroline, has retired from the DCC, only to have had painful hip surgery after years of long-term damage at the hands of the squad’s popular jump splits—a requirement for making the team. She’s not the only one—other cheerleaders have had multiple orthopedic surgeries because of the years spent on the team.

Victoria and Caroline’s experiences are only the primer of the dark DCC picture. Much internet uproar has been (rightfully) made about the show’s comments on the abysmal pay their cheerleaders make—figures they don’t disclose in the series, but ones they’re surprisingly quick to attempt to poorly justify. This element of the docuseries simultaneously puzzled and intrigued me; the Cowboys executive staff are open, brazen, and seemingly non-apologetic about the fact that they pay their cheerleaders very little, especially in the larger context of other relevant figures and pay grades.

An episode 1 quote from Charlotte Jones, Executive VP and Chief Brand Officer (and daughter of Cowboys owner Jerry Jones):

There’s a lot of cynicism around pay for NFL cheerleaders, and as it should be. They’re not paid a lot, but the facts are they actually don’t come here for the money. They come here for something that’s actually bigger than that to them. They have a passion for dance; there are not a lot of opportunities in the field of dance to get to perform at an elite level.

It’s about being a part of something bigger than themselves; it’s about a sisterhood that they were able to form, about relationships that they have the rest of their life. They have the chance to feel like they’re valued, that they’re special, and that they’re making a difference. When the women come here, they find their passion and they find their purpose.

I suppose it’s probably very easy for Ms. Jones to say that their cheerleaders essentially don’t care about their paltry pay and come to the team for an experience that’s “bigger than them” when she herself clears a $15 million salary every year, while her father’s net worth falls somewhere between a whopping $9-$14.2 billion dollars (there’s some discrepancy online about the exact figure, but it’s astounding regardless).

Other important figures:

• Dallas Cowboys’ total worth: $9.2 billion (making it the most valuable sports team in the world)

• Dallas Cowboys QB Dak Prescott: Signed a 4-year $160 million contract in 2021

Meanwhile, the DC Cheerleaders make about $150 per home game and around $50-$75 per public appearance. Many work full-time jobs they balance on top of their exhausting cheerleading schedule; careers that run the gamut, from nurses to florists to dentists and dance studio owners.

I’m sure if Ms. Jones actually bothered to ask any of the DC Cheerleaders—and they felt comfortable answering freely—they’d express very little desire to work 70+ hours per person per week across their multiple jobs during training camp time.

Then there’s the not-insignificant threat of sexual violence that you’d probably not be surprised to learn about in a sports world that emphasizes and promotes machismo. We learn in the docuseries that during photo ops with their male fans, men are handed footballs to hold so they don’t cop a non-consensual feel. Appalling.

In the last episode of the show, one dancer reveals that she’s been groped on game day by a cameraman. She presses charges—and to her coaches’ bare-minimum-bar-is-on-the-floor credit, they seem to fully support her—but the charges are dismissed due to a lack of compelling video evidence. Another dance reveals that an AirTag (an Apple tracking device) was placed on her car and a fan was able to find out where she lived.

Just a couple instances of many.

These women are put through the fucking wringer, dealing with so many of the worst parts of being a woman: pay disparity, sexual violence, unwarranted and negative comments on their bodies, expectations that they should be able to do it all (and with a smile). It is a privilege that they get to be here and they should be thankful, after all!

So why then do they do it? And why have people like me been watching them do it for the last 19 years?

Because the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders also represent some of the best parts about being a woman.

Let’s take fame out of the equation—yes, these women receive some level of notoriety, but most go on to have regular careers in dancing or in other fields. And with the CMT series gone, it’s likely become more difficult for a dancer to launch an influencer career out it, due to lack of TV exposure (though I suppose this may change if Netflix produces more seasons; it has a much larger reach than CMT).

What appeals to me as a viewer is the camaraderie and the sisterhood of it all—and I imagine it’s the same for the cheerleaders. While the team of 36 does cycle through some roster changes every year, many veterans return for consecutive years; the 2023-2024 DCC team was largely 2/3 veterans. In their time at training camp, these women spend upwards of 30 hours a week with each other.

They support each other and rally around each other during difficult times. When the training camp dancers get called into the dreaded coach’s office for notes sessions under the threat of being cut from the team, everyone else always provides a real sense of comfort by waiting patiently to hear their fate—even after they’ve been plugging away at a long rehearsal for hours.

I imagine there’s also some level of trauma bonding that comes into play. (Author’s note: I am using trauma bonding in the way that most people would incorrectly describe it, despite the fact that trauma bonding is actually defined as the relationship between the abused and their abuser).

For example, Kelli Finglass—the director of the DCC for the last 33 years—reminds me a lot of the former head cheerleading coach of Navarro College (featured in Netflix’s Cheer), Monica Aldama. They’re both the type of women who really promote tough love, who will have you hugging them one moment, and crying the next because they’ve just criticized your weight and told you that you have to go home now. I have to imagine there’s so much bonding to your fellow dancers in an environment like that one.

Unfortunately, I think Charlotte Jones is right—that it’s also about being part of something bigger—a place where you feel like you belong. The majority of the DCC team is in their twenties, a time in your life that’s often overwhelming and confusing while you're searching for direction and meaning in your life.

However, I think this element may be a double-edged sword. It’s an opportunity that’s such a career-high, one that’s hard to beat, that many young dancers feel like their life is over when their time at DCC ends. They’re left at an even bigger loss, and grappling for meaning more than ever when the stadium lights go out for them. They know what it’s like to experience that high before it’s gone.

So is it all worth it? Is the team the epitome of girlhood or just a shiny facade?

I think only the dancers can truly answer the first question—and I think a lot of them would tell you yes. As for the second?

I think the answer is that it has to be both.

**

For other honest critiques of the team and the Netflix series, here are a few pieces of commentary I enjoyed:

• Time: ‘America’s Sweethearts’ Is a Surprisingly Infuriating Portrait of the Ultimate Pink-Collar Job

• The Hollywood Reporter: Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders Review: Netflix’s ‘Cheer’ Team Struggles To Dig Deep

• The Telegraph: What Netflix Doesn’t Tell You About the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders

Earlier this week, I was rudely awakened by the chirping smoke detector in my bedroom, alerting me that it needed a new battery. No big deal to most! But I’ve had a more Phoebe Buffay-like experience with smoke detectors in the past, so they set me particularlyyyyy on edge when they go off.

My girlfriend woke up a couple of hours later, confused to find me on the couch. She was not aware of my storied history with smoke detectors, but was very amused by my grumpy, irrational grudge against a life-saving device. We bought a new battery later that day and thankfully, it’s has been quiet ever since.

This small anecdote is partially just an excuse for me to share one of the best clips of Friends, my favorite TV show (I know, I know, I’m a basic millennial, we can maybe parse that out later in a separate newsletter where I make no apologies).

I have some devastating news — I’m forced to rate Diet Pepsi this week.

I know! I don’t like it either, but somehow the establishments I’ve frequented these last two weeks—not counting the grocery store—only served Diet Pepsi. When life hands you lemons, I guess sometimes you have to settle for a Diet Pepsi with lemon?? A travesty.

Anyway, my girlfriend and I went to the movies last weekend to see Inside Out 2—highly recommend, btw—and if you know anything about me, you know that I refuse to go to the movies without buying snacks (even if I do fall into a sobbing heap on the floor while emptying my bank account to pay for them because have you seen the price of concessions lately? Worth it, though, I guess because I will not let movie theaters die on my watch).

Now, normally I am actually a Coke slushie at the movies kinda girl, but the icee machines were down (strike 1) and their fountain options were Pepsi-only (strike 2). With such limited options, we settled for a small popcorn, some peanut butter M&Ms, and two Diet Pepsis.

I simply refuse to believe that my favorite short king Michael J. Fox is legitimately a Diet Pepsi man!!!

I tried not to let the saltiness of the popcorn inflate my rating too much because this is Diet Pepsi we’re talking about here. We’re already operating at a maximum of 7/10 from that fact, alone.

There were optimal amounts of both ice and spice (carbonation), but the flavor wasn’t quite hitting, even for a Diet Pepsi. I suspect the syrup box was running low and needed to be replaced, but regardless—it was lackluster.

Subsequently, I have to give it a lowly 4.5/10. (My girlfriend said this was too generous, and she would give it a 2.5/10. “It was as if someone whispered Diet Pepsi from the next room.”) Not great, Bob!

When this particular newsletter comes out again, I will have been at the beach with my family for a week—which means lots of opportunities for fresh and spicy restaurant diet cokes!

****

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XOXO,
Gossip Girl

‘til next time,

Liv

P.S. - If you hit the heart at the top or bottom of this essay, it’ll help more people discover me and will also make my day!

P.P.S - I couldn’t bring myself to watch last night’s presidential debate, but I know it was largely very bad. If you also already have overwhelming anxiety thinking about the election, know that I see you and my DMs are always open <3