Two frail and pale white girls. All polite smiles and kind laughs. Perfectly executing the demands placed upon them, perfectly tamed. And how is this “good girl behavior” rewarded? One “sparkles” as the diamond of the season and the other sits atop a pyramid, reigning over the inferior girls.
What, then, distinguishes these two? Nominally, these emblems of perfection are Daphne Bridgerton of Shonda Rhimes’s hit Netflix series Bridgerton and Maddie Ziegler of Lifetime’s Dance Moms. On the surface, the shows seem to have little in common. Bridgerton is an anachronistic historical drama following the richer-than-rich 19th-century British gentry and their gaudy courting rituals, all under the rule of the ever-so-opinionated Queen Charlotte. Meanwhile, Dance Moms follows dance teacher and despot Abby Lee Miller’s Pittsburgh-based company through countless, yet scarily indistinguishable, dance competitions. Talk about being in the pit(t)s!
Despite aforementioned differences and, ironically, Bridgerton’s more racially-diverse cast, the shows are surprisingly similar. For one, both exude pageantry. The intricate, tailored costumes, perfectly caked makeup, and big, bold hair––swept into curly updos and adorned with jewels––all threaten to steal the show. However, shining above all the glitz and glam is simultaneously gross and engrossing drama: screaming, gossip, betrayal, toxicity.
But the connections don’t end there. For one, how were the “diamonds”––Daphne and Maddie–– mined? Violet Bridgerton, mother to Daphne, and Melissa Ziegler, mother to Maddie, share striking similarities. Both mothers hold a respectable place as lap dogs to their individual queens, mastering pouty faces and puppy-dog eyes and begging Queen Charlotte and “Queen” Abby to crown their daughters with praise and affection. And, for the success of their one special jewel, both are willing to sacrifice their other children. Violet mildly redeems herself after the first season when she shifts focus from Daphne’s debut to her sisters Eloise and later Francesca. Melissa, however, holds steadfast in her disregard for the cute and sweet Mackenzie who, in Mackenzie’s own words, is “always a bridesmaid, never a bride.” Accordingly, Mackenzie makes the perfect Hyacinth Bridgerton––young, seemingly unremarkable, and, consequently, often forgotten. With Violet’s husband dead and Melissa’s husband dead to her, perhaps it's inevitable in these single-headed households that mothers cannot delegate attention equally to all. Still though, both for the late Count Bridgerton and all children involved, that’s gotta sting!
More venomous than the bee that killed Count Bridgerton is Portia Featherington. Portia, a red-and-hot-head, is willing to do anything so her less-than-desirable daughters Prudence and Phillipa can get ahead. Her obsession with them blinds her to the true gem of the parcel: her youngest daughter Penelope, who Portia thinks takes up too much space––with both her ideas and her body. Jill Vertes, like Portia, is a mom to three daughters. Yet, rather than sharing in Portia’s distaste for the youngest, Jill babies her “little Candle” (aka Kendall). Jill constantly pesters Abby with, “When can Kendall get a solo? When does Kendall get a special part?” Portia and Jill refuse to accept that their daughters, and by extension themselves as moms, remain mediocre at best. Both are eager to capitalize on the replaceability of the other girls so their daughters can supplant them atop the pyramid, breeding contempt and jealousy.
Lady Danbury in Bridgerton and Holly in Dance Moms ground the shows amidst the insanity that the envious moms create. Fear not––this is NOT “color casting,” as the similarities between Lady Danbury and Holly extend far beyond their shared racial identity. Both women embody a “no nonsense” attitude that sharply contrasts Portia and Jill’s “all nonsense” approach. Lady Danbury, after suffering through an abusive relationship with a grotesque older duke, can certainly hold her own. As can Principal Holly, who disciplines children and moms who act like children alike, hitting them with blunt zingers like, “You're entitled to your wrong opinion; that's fine.”
Lady Danbury and Holly’s power are second only to the power of Queen Charlotte and Abby Lee Miller, respectively. Both share a love for unreasonable expectations and yelling, as well as a fear of losing and being wrong. Sounds like the perfect boss, right? Despite their outsized egos, both women’s characters are more complex than they appear and are shaped by significant stressors experienced during their formative years. Queen Charlotte, for one, was selected as King George’s bride at 17 and forced into a marriage hundreds of miles from her home in Germany. Abby Lee, although by choice rather than by force, formed the Abby Lee Dance Company at the even earlier age of 14. Did this violate child labor laws? Perhaps. But, even if it did, it was only the birth of a legacy: Abby Lee Miller thinking she’s above the law. Thirty-five years later, she would be indicted for fraud by the Department of Justice and sentenced to one year and one day in prison (it seems the judge, throwing in that extra day, was as petty as Abby). Here might be the clearest delineator between Queen Charlotte and Abby Lee: one woman is the law, and the other breaks it. Accordingly, Abby Lee is more vulnerable than Queen Charlotte, yet neither can escape scrutiny and criticism––Queen Charlotte from anonymous writer Lady Whistledown, and Abby Lee from her former dancers. Do these matriarchs face criticism because they are women in power or because they wield such power in the same oppressive ways that men always have?
It’s the latter. Despite their focus on women, neither show, when laid bare, presents a particularly feminist vision. Both perpetuate narratives of women as catty gossipers, eager only to betray one another. And both relegate older women to either the role of mother or despot––both uniquely vicious and miserable––all failing in their attempts to live vicariously through the next generation’s beauty and youth. Perhaps, then, the natural progression is not from coal to diamond but, instead, diamond to coal.
Grace Guernsey is a sophomore in the SFS majoring in Culture & Politics and minoring in Spanish and Psychology. Her favorite celebrity lookalikes are Princess Diana and Jake Paul.
Comments