As a nutritionist for dancers, my work goes far beyond meal plans and portion guides. It’s about advocating for a healthier, more sustainable dance world— one where artistry isn’t sacrificed for body image, and well-being is prioritized alongside technique. I’ve made it my mission to help shift our industry away from outdated, harmful standards. So naturally, I was apprehensive when I hit “play” on Tiny Pretty Things.
Right from the first episode, we’re thrown into a whirlwind of classic ballet tropes: eating disorders, hyper-competitive dynamics, and the glorified “no pain, no gain” mentality. I worried this would simply reinforce the very stereotypes so many of us are working hard to dismantle.
But then— I kept watching.
A Quick Note:
While the show features incredibly talented young performers, it’s important to recognize that Tiny Pretty Things contains mature content, including explicit scenes and triggering depictions of disordered eating and violence. If you’re under 18 or actively struggling with disordered eating, I strongly recommend speaking with a trusted adult or professional before watching.
What the Show Gets Right
Let’s start with the cast. The talent is undeniable, and the choreography is stunning— thanks to a powerhouse creative team that includes Guillaume Côté, Juliano Nunes, Garrett Smith, Tiler Peck, and Robert Binet. As a dancer myself, it was thrilling to see ballet take center stage in a mainstream production.
But beyond the visuals, what surprised me most was how the show ultimately confronts the industry’s deep-rooted issues rather than glamorizing them. It’s far from perfect— but it opens the door to important conversations we need to be having.
Stereotype #1: The Normalization of Disordered Eating
The show doesn’t shy away from depicting disordered eating behaviors— and that’s exactly why it’s worth talking about. Dancers, especially young ones, are constantly bombarded with pressure to control their bodies. Many restrict food not out of true health concerns, but because they think that’s what success demands. These harmful beliefs are everywhere, and seeing them on screen can unfortunately validate them for some viewers.
This is the very cycle I work to disrupt at To The Pointe Nutrition. Yet watching Oren, one of the show’s male leads, buckle under the weight of restriction— even to the point of being unable to complete a photoshoot— reminded me that these issues are real, raw, and still largely ignored, especially for male dancers.
Here’s the truth: eating disorders don’t discriminate. They affect dancers of every gender, race, and body type. And while it’s painful to watch, the show’s willingness to include this storyline is a step toward raising awareness.
Stereotype #2: The Glamorization of Cut-Throat Competition
There’s no question: drama sells. And Tiny Pretty Things has no shortage of it. Backstabbing, betrayal, and even literal violence are used to depict the stakes of the professional ballet world. As someone who danced professionally, I’ll admit— I never encountered an environment quite that toxic. But I do understand the subtle, internalized competition that creeps in when you’re surrounded by peers who are also your rivals.
Competition is a double-edged sword. It can push us to grow, but it can also isolate and exhaust us if we lose sight of who we are outside of dance. My concern is that young dancers may watch characters like Bette and feel the pressure to sacrifice friendships, boundaries, or even mental health for the sake of a lead role.
But here’s what I want dancers to know: your art is deeper than your casting. Living a full, multidimensional life— one that includes rest, relationships, and joy— isn’t a threat to your artistry. It’s the foundation of it.
Beyond the Studio: Intersectionality
The show also touches on issues like racial bias, gender discrimination, and financial inequity. These problems aren’t unique to dance, but they are very real within it. Whether it’s who gets cast, who gets critiqued, or who can afford elite training, we can’t talk about reforming the dance world without addressing these systemic barriers. With that said, dance families should know that these issues are just as real in any industry.
My Takeaway?
Tiny Pretty Things may lean into cliché and controversy, but it does something important: it starts the conversation. It shines a light on the gritty, uncomfortable realities dancers face— and while some portrayals are extreme, many reflect the truths that too often go unspoken.
Rather than rejecting these narratives, we can use them to drive change. As dancers, parents, educators, and professionals, we must teach the next generation how to spot toxic patterns, challenge harmful norms, and, most importantly, value their well-being over perfection.
So yes, the industry still has a long way to go. But if a Netflix drama can help spark dialogue, empathy, and critical thinking, then maybe it’s a step in the right direction.
