Bottom of the Pyramid: A Memoir of Persevering, Dancing for Myself, and Starring in My Own Life

by Nia Sioux

Unfortunately, my makeup and hair seemed to be an issue for Abby.

Once, in rehearsal, Abby asked me, “Don’t you just wish you had white-girl hair?”

In a healthy environment, a top-five placement would have been seen as both a success and an opportunity for growth. But to Abby, it was a failure.

Abby seemed to think that she was “rescuing” me from the systems of oppression, when she was the one building the walls by scaffolding a series of lies, deceit, and innuendo.

Abby liked winners, and I was not winning.

She then proceeded to say that she didn’t ask for “a Tootie,” referring to Kim Fields’s character on the hit 1980s show The Facts of Life.

And most of them didn’t know what it was like to be Black around Abby either.

Moms complained to production, and production told the moms to complain to Abby, and then they would capture it on camera. It was a vicious cycle.

Not only was I annoyed, but I was also surprised to hear a kid talk like this.

Jess and JoJo may have played up their behavior for the cameras, but what they were doing affected my real life.

No one was coming to save me—well, no one except my mom. It was now us against the world.

She barred us from anything she put on, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise because the previous master classes she held overseas became part of the reason she got into trouble and would later wind up in prison.

On a larger scale, I was always aware of the societal double standard that said a “fun antic” for them as white girls was something I could get in trouble for as a Black girl.

But I guess that when you’re a Black kid, there’s a limit to how much of a good time you’re allowed to have.

A part of me still yearned for her approval, and it felt good to hear her say she was proud of me.

She reminded me that showing emotion was okay, that humans are supposed to cry. And she was right.

I was officially bicoastal, and I loved it.

I will never reach out to Abby Lee Miller again. I try my best not to fill my heart with hate, but as far as I’m concerned, she no longer exists in my world, and I like it that way. I wish her no harm; I just want her out of my life. I’ve even ended relationships with people who keep in contact with her; it’s a boundary I’ve had to set so I can heal.

And I was not the only person who took notice—other people called her out on this too. I have yet to receive an apology for anything she has done.