January 21, 2026 | Written by Ariel Landrum, LMFT, ATR

If you watched America’s Next Top Model when it first aired, you probably remember it as dramatic, campy, iconic. Smizing. Makeovers. Tears in panel. It felt bold, glamorous, aspirational.

Then Netflix released Reality Check: Inside America’s Next Top Model and many of us felt something shift.

What once felt like messy entertainment now looks like coercion, humiliation, racial insensitivity, body shaming, and contracts that left participants with little power over their own stories. Former contestants have described the documentary as triggering and emotionally difficult to revisit. Some have shared renewed feelings of shame and not feeling “good enough.” Others have expressed shock and dismay at what they saw in hindsight. At least one former contestant has spoken publicly about how traumatic events during filming were portrayed, and another criticized the production for continuing patterns of exploitation even within the documentary itself.

If you feel unsettled watching it, that makes sense. If you loved the show and now feel conflicted, that makes sense too. We are allowed to grow. We are allowed to reexamine the media that shaped us without shaming our younger selves.

As a therapist, and as someone who works with people in creative and public-facing spaces, I can say clearly that there are real mental health consequences when a person loses control of their narrative.

Let’s talk about why.

Reality TV and the Illusion of Choice

Reality television presents itself as opportunity. Exposure. A stepping stone. A dream.

But most participants are classified as “unscripted cast” rather than employees. That role often means no long-term benefits, limited mental health protections, and contracts that give production control over editing and storyline. The Unscripted Cast Advocacy Network Foundation (UCAN) exists specifically to advocate for these individuals and provide mental health and legal support because the system has historically failed them. They work to provide resources and reform for reality TV participants who are often left without aftercare or industry protections.

When editing shapes someone into a villain, a stereotype, or a punchline, that narrative can follow them for years. Our brains are wired for social belonging. Public shaming or distorted portrayal can activate real stress responses.

Research consistently shows that repeated exposure to evaluative or appearance-focused media increases body dissatisfaction and negative affect, especially among vulnerable viewers (Ferguson, 2013). Other research has linked intense media exposure to heightened stress responses and anxiety symptoms following collective events (Holman et al., 2014). While much of this research focuses on viewers, imagine the amplified impact on the person being watched, judged, and discussed by millions.

We know from trauma research that loss of control, public humiliation, and chronic stress can dysregulate emotional and physiological systems over time, contributing to symptoms consistent with trauma-related disorders (American Psychiatric Association, 2013). For participants, the show may end, but the digital footprint remains.

Why We Were Drawn In

Reality TV is a fandom.

It has archetypes, alliances, plot twists, redemption arcs. It invites us to pick favorites. It creates community conversation. It gives us something to root for.

Media psychology research shows that audiences form parasocial relationships with television personalities, meaning we feel emotionally connected to them despite not knowing them personally (Giles, 2002). That connection is powerful. It fulfills belonging, identification, and aspiration.

Competition shows in particular activate game mechanics. There are rules, eliminations, confessionals, reward systems. Our brains love structured stakes. We love transformation narratives. We love the idea that effort leads to recognition.

So if you watched ANTM and enjoyed it, you were responding to very normal psychological mechanisms. You were not intentionally or outwardly endorsing harm. You were participating in a cultural moment that many of us did not yet have the language to critique.

Now, with further understanding of the true harm, we can be mindful about our reality tv consumption. Growth does not require self-condemnation. It requires honest criqute which means true understanding.

The Psychological Cost of Public Narratives

When someone participates in reality television, they enter a compressed emotional environment.

Sleep deprivation, competition stress, limited privacy, and constant evaluation can strain coping systems. Add editing that removes context and amplifies conflict, and you have a recipe for identity disruption.

Identity disruption is not a formal diagnosis, but clinicians recognize the distress that occurs when a person’s public image diverges sharply from their lived experience. Research on identity threat suggests that when a person’s sense of self is challenged or distorted, it can produce significant psychological distress and defensive coping responses (Schimel et al., 2013). Research on public exposure and stigma further suggests that being labeled or misrepresented can increase anxiety, depression, and social withdrawal (Link & Phelan, 2001).

Several former contestants have described watching the documentary as triggering. That word is often overused online, but clinically, it refers to the reactivation of unresolved stress responses. Watching old footage, hearing public commentary, or seeing memes can reactivate shame, anger, or helplessness.

I have worked with individuals who were in high visibility spaces, including unscripted television, and a common theme emerges. They did not expect the aftermath. They did not expect how long the narrative would follow them. They did not expect how difficult it would be to reclaim their own story.

What We Can Do Now

If the documentary stirred something in you, here are three ways to respond.

1. Support systemic reform

Organizations like UCAN are working to create industry standards around mental health care, legal clarity, and aftercare for unscripted cast members. Supporting their work, sharing their mission, or donating helps shift the structure rather than placing all responsibility on individuals to “be resilient.”

Systemic problems require systemic responses.

2. Support someone who was on a reality show

If you know someone who participated in reality TV, remember that the version you saw is edited. Lead with curiosity rather than assumptions. Ask open-ended questions. Reflect their feelings. Avoid saying things like, “But you signed up for it.” Consent to participate is not consent to harm.

Offer privacy. Offer grounding. Offer space for them to tell their story in their own words.

And if they seem overwhelmed, encourage professional support. Therapy can help process shame, grief, anger, and identity confusion that may arise from public exposure.

3. Support yourself as a viewer

If you are rewatching and feeling unsettled, pause. Notice your body. Are you tense, embarrassed, defensive, sad?

Media can activate personal histories. If you experienced bullying, body shaming, racial stereotyping, or public humiliation in your own life, watching similar dynamics play out on screen can stir those memories.

Give yourself permission to step away. Journal. Talk it through. Remember that nostalgia can coexist with accountability.

We can critique and help dismantle systems without attacking ourselves for previously participating in them.

Takeaways for Mental Health

Public narratives shape identity
Loss of control of that narrative increases stress
Parasocial relationships feel real because our brains treat them as real
Entertainment can both connect and harm
Growth involves reflection, not shame
Systemic reform protects individuals

Reality television did not begin as a villain. It evolved within a culture that prized drama, transformation, and spectacle. Now we have more language around trauma, consent, and exploitation. That awareness allows us to demand better.

If you are feeling stirred up after watching Reality Check, you are not overreacting. You are responding to a deeper understanding.

And if you are someone whose story was shaped without your full consent, you deserve support, advocacy, and the opportunity to reclaim your narrative.

References

American Psychiatric Association. (2013). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (5th ed.). American Psychiatric Publishing. https://www.psychiatry.org/psychiatrists/practice/dsm

Ferguson, C. J. (2013). In the eye of the beholder. Thin-ideal media affects some, but not most, viewers in a meta-analytic review of body dissatisfaction in women and men. Psychology of Popular Media Culture, 2(1), 20–37. https://doi.org/10.1037/a0030766

Giles, D. C. (2002). Parasocial interaction. A review of the literature and a model for future research. Media Psychology, 4(3), 279–305. https://doi.org/10.1207/S1532785XMEP0403_04

Holman, E. A., Garfin, D. R., & Silver, R. C. (2014). Media exposure to collective trauma and mental health. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 111(1), 93–98. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1316265110

Link, B. G., & Phelan, J. C. (2001). Conceptualizing stigma. Annual Review of Sociology, 27, 363–385. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev.soc.27.1.363

Schimel, J., Arndt, J., Banko, K. M., & Cook, A. (2013). Not all self-affirmations were created equal. The cognitive and social benefits of affirming the intrinsic self. Social and Personality Psychology Compass, 7(7), 484–498. https://doi.org/10.1037/a0032363

Has your perspective on reality TV changed over time? What helped you see it differently?

When Reality TV Stops Feeling Like Entertainment