A former contestant says the show exposed the same power imbalances that still leave models vulnerable today.
Modeling appears glamorous: beautiful people, high end clothing and photo shoots in exotic locations. But the reality is far more bleak.
I was ecstatic when I was selected to be on America’s Next Top Model. But by the time I understood how little control I had, it felt too late to ask questions. Personal phones were gone. Contact with the outside world was restricted. Days were tightly structured by the same people deciding whether you would advance in the competition or be sent home.
I told myself that was part of the process. A test of discipline. A test of resilience.
During my time on the show, first in Cycle 15 and later on All-Stars, it became clear how quickly the controlled environment shaped human behavior. Contestants grew more cautious. I learned the behaviors that were encouraged and the behaviors that come with consequences. When anyone questioned direction or expressed discomfort, the shift was clear: less screen time, harsher criticism, fewer chances to recover.
When Netflix released Reality Check: Inside America’s Next Top Model, my reaction was not shock. It was recognition. The documentary surfaced experiences that shaped me early on—not as moments to bury, but as forces that pushed me to want more and demand better. The documentary sharpened my understanding of how power operates and how harm can be normalized when authority goes unchecked.
Today, I bring that perspective into my work as a sexual assault attorney, representing people in similarly coercive spaces, where power is uneven and silence is often the price of survival.
That same power dynamic extends beyond one television show. Aspiring models, often young, far from home, and financially dependent, enter environments where agents, photographers, producers and executives hold near complete power.
On America’s Next Top Model, that imbalance was built into the format of the competition. In the broader modeling industry, it persists more subtly. Being labeled “difficult” can end a career before it begins. That is not creative direction. It is coercion disguised as opportunity.
The pattern is consistent: Young models are promised success, then placed in environments where manipulation goes unchecked.
Behind the glamour of runways and magazine covers lies a darker truth.
For decades, high-profile industry leaders faced repeated allegations of sexual assault or coercion while continuing to work with major fashion houses. In some cases, that imbalance has crossed into criminal allegations: In Los Angeles, prosecutors charged a photographer with sexually assaulting aspiring models, alleging he used the promise of modeling work and industry access to exert control. The pattern is consistent: Young models are promised success, then placed in environments where manipulation goes unchecked.
Power imbalances are not confined to fashion or television. They echo warning signs seen in other high-profile abuse cases, including the crimes committed by Jeffrey Epstein. He weaponized ambition, isolated his victims and used the illusion of opportunity to keep them silent. The setting was different, but the formula was the same. And it worked because no one stopped it.
What [the show] revealed was not an exception, but a blueprint. Those dynamics persist because the modeling industry has long existed in a gray zone outside labor protections.
The data confirms what many models have long described: Financial exploitation and sexual harassment remain widespread in the industry. More than half of models were owed money by clients or agencies, underscoring how common financial exploitation remains in the industry, a joint survey by Model Alliance and Cornell University found. At the same time, investigative reporting and survivor accounts have documented pervasive sexual harassment on modeling sets.
These harms rarely exist in isolation. Financial dependence and professional vulnerability often make it harder for models to speak up, reinforcing systems that prioritize access and profit over safety and dignity.
What America’s Next Top Model revealed was not an exception, but a blueprint. Those dynamics persist because the modeling industry has long existed in a gray zone outside labor protections. Agencies operate as “management companies” rather than employers, allowing them to sidestep accountability for wage theft, harassment and abuse.
New York’s 2024 Fashion Workers Act is a critical step, requiring agency registration, commission limits and contract transparency. But one state cannot protect a global workforce or solve a global problem.
Real reform requires national oversight. Federal labor and civil rights agencies must actively monitor the modeling industry, and brands must demand compliance from every agency and photographer they hire. Policy alone will not fix a culture that profits from silence, but accountability is a necessary start.
I left modeling and became a sexual abuse attorney because I refused to accept silence as the cost of survival. Former contestants and models continue to speak out, naming what was normalized and taking back the power they were taught to surrender.
The runway was sold as a dream. It should never become a nightmare models are expected to endure in silence. Reform is not optional—it’s overdue.
