I’m Not Saying Tyra Banks Invented Toxic Leadership, But After This New ANTM Netflix Doc She’ll Be The Poster Child For It

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What do toxic bosses and Tyra Banks have in common? Both can make you question your worth, destroy your confidence, and STILL try to convince you that it was just a “learning experience”. And baby, this new America’s Next Top Model documentary on Netflix exposes it all. Well, almost.

For years, Tyra Banks sold herself as a safe Black woman in fashion — the mentor who “opened doors” for other Black girls in a world that never made room for us. And while, yes, it’s undeniable that in some ways, she did open doors for others. After watching Reality Check: Inside America’s Next Top Model on Netflix, it’s clear she also opened old trauma wounds for so many of the reality show’s contestants.

And created a ton of new ones, in the process!

She became the kind of leader that so many of us have quietly survived.

A leader who preaches empowerment, yet leads through fear, control, and humiliation. One who makes you question your worth, not just as an employee, but as a human being.

We all know that type.

The one who sucks the air out of the room the moment they step in. The one who treats people like they should just be grateful to be in the room — even when the room is poisonous.

But for so many of us, not only did we survive them … at some point, we looked up to them, because they looked exactly like us. Yet what often looks like inspiration on the surface usually turns out to be utter chaos, manipulation, and emotional damage quietly brewing beneath.

The Mirror of Misery

Instead of breaking fashion’s cruel beauty standards, as promised, Tyra Banks replicated them, for the sake of “diversity”. When Dani Evans proudly declined dental work to close her gap because she saw it as part of what made her special, Tyra Banks gave her an ultimatum.

The gap had to go, or she would have to leave the show.

She let producers (and contestants) fat-shame Keenyah Hill, even though Tyra herself boldly talked about body acceptance on her talk show and had been scrutinized plenty of times in her own career.

Girls were forced to pose in blackface — not once, but twice — in a cruel attempt to show others just how beautiful Black women could be. Photoshoots included people who were unhoused as background props, random men who couldn’t keep their dicks in their pants, and violent scenes depicting drug abuse, eating disorders, and death were recreated “to keep audiences interested”.

None of which was ever coincidental.

In the ANTM doc, Dionne Walters recalls how she was personally tasked with portraying a murder victim who was shot in the head during a photoshoot. It wasn’t until the shock wore off that she realized the producers had exploited her very own real-life story when she remembered mentioning her mother’s life-threatening injury during her interviews.

America’s Next Top Model wasn’t just tone-deaf.

It’s proof that good intentions can still be harmful. Tyra wasn’t just running a reality show to help others who looked like her; she was inflicting the same trauma she claimed to have overcome.

But nothing was worse than production recording sexual assault, then changing the narrative and depicting Shandi Sullivan as a cheater, causing strangers to turn against her online, and in public, while Tyra Banks pretended that she should be “grateful” they edited most of those scenes out. Grateful that instead of showing the entire world she was too drunk and too incoherent to consent to sex, that she should be ever so lucky they only pretended she cheated on her boyfriend.

And as a Black woman, with a Black daughter, I’ll never forgive HER for that.

The “Strong Black Boss” Myth

Black women are constantly told that if we want to be successful, we must be twice as good, twice as composed, and twice as strong. We must overcome all challenges, no matter how hard they may seem, and we must do so with “a smile on our face”. We must never show weakness.

So some harden themselves and let go of their humanity, in hopes that they’ll be perceived as management material. But it’s all a myth. And I’ve seen firsthand how a “strong Black boss” can hinder, versus uplift.

I tell this story to everyone who will listen, mostly as a cautionary tale, but also because it’s been over 5 years, and I’m still shocked this happened:

During my time as an Assistant Director for an after school program, I sat in the corner of our office, while the director did interviews. During one particular interview, our director asked an interview candidate if she was ok with the hourly rate. The candidate said yes, and was hired. Later that week, the director admitted out loud to me, that had she declined the rate and negotiated, she would have had to given her more, because she was worth more!

They were both Black women.

Up until then, my boss was a pretty cool one. But this moment changed how I would look at her forever.

And while yes, she had her reasons, and is probably a different woman today. It was her willingness to confide in me, another Black woman, as if I would just laugh it off with her, that truly soured my respect for her — and for every woman who thinks shared skin color excuses shared harm.

Watching Tyra Banks scream at another Black woman on ANTM today reminded me: toxic leadership often disguises itself as concern.

Too often, people get caught up in protecting their own image to see the pain they’re causing.

But when Jay Manuel said he didn’t feel it was “his place” to confront Tyra or the producers about the mistreatment of the girls, it spoke volumes.

Instead of creating a safe place for young adults to learn the rules of the trade and start their careers, Tyra had created an environment where even grown professionals didn’t feel safe speaking up.

Toxic Leadership Has A Cost

Some will say Tyra is no Trump or Jeff Bezos. And they’d be correct — to an extent. Tyra may not be the worst boss in America (since we can probably award that title to today’s U.S. President), but her betrayal of the very promise she set out to make is what makes this so painful.

I won’t go too deep here, because I’d like to wrap this up, and not continue yapping into the next decade. But think about this for just a second — from slave catchers to police brutality to the genocides so many have faced — the cut always stings deeper when the oppressor looks like you.

Racism is easy to identify, which almost makes it easier to excuse when harm comes from “others.” Remember when we coined “It’s ’cause I’m Black, ain’t it?” as a joke to call out racism and microaggressions?

But what happens when the harm doesn’t come from the “other”? When it comes from the person you trusted to protect you?

It’s true, Tyra Banks didn’t owe every aspiring model a personal hand-up.

But in the self-appointed job she created — to “heal the world” and prove that diversity sells — I mean, to show that inclusivity was a win for all in the modeling industry — she carried a responsibility. Representation was never supposed to morph into exploitation.

Think about how it feels to walk into a room full of faces that don’t look like yours, and then spot someone who does. The relief. The silent hope. That tiny moment of safety that whispers, you’re not alone here. That’s what Tyra was supposed to be — a friendly face in an industry of sharks. Not just a supermodel, but a role model for girls who never quite fit the “standard” mold society pushed on us.

She looked safe. But was anything but.

And sure, maybe she didn’t understand in the beginning how a reality show could leave such deep scars. Maybe she couldn’t predict how her creation would damage careers and confidence alike.

But to still deflect, decades later, after the pain has been named and proven — that’s no longer ignorance. That’s indifference.

Tyra Banks did whatever she needed to do to protect her brand — her name, her money, her image. She played the game to stay on top. Even if it meant stepping on the very women she promised to lift up.

Let’s face it — a woman who rocks the boat is often chastised, yes, especially those of color. But in those early seasons, during their rise to fame, Tyra had a duty to create a show that not only entertained but helped others — and she failed miserably. Yet at no point did anyone ever step back and say, this isn’t what we wanted. Instead, they doubled down on the idiocracy for the sake of TV ratings. And after all the trauma inflicted, Tyra hinted at possibly bringing the show back for yet another season — season 25?

If “couldn’t read the room” was a person, it would be you, Tyra.

Leadership roles are often taken for granted because so many want the power and money that come with the title. Yet so many blatantly disregard the responsibility those titles also demand.

Leaders like Tyra don’t seem to think they owe anyone an explanation for the harm they’ve caused. As we saw in the final moments of the documentary, instead of taking responsibility, Tyra flipped the script on us — the viewers. Stating that, “One day someone’s going to call YOU out on your shit,” and wow, did I cringe at the lack of empathy shown on screen.

However, maybe, just maybe, no empathy was shown because showing empathy would mean facing the truth. That she was the face of the show, the creator, the architect — and she let it spiral uncontrollably for 24 years. She could have easily ended the show with grace, announced that it had gone in a different direction than she’d hoped. But she chose to stay complicit.

But what do I know about fame and fortune? What have my morals ever gotten me! Exactly.

However, I’d like to think that I know a thing or two about leadership, after spending over 10 years growing my career in youth development.

And true leadership isn’t about power or a paycheck.

It’s about accountability. Real leaders protect people when it’s inconvenient. Real leaders take the hit when their choices cause harm! Oh, and real leaders don’t need Netflix documentaries to remind them to phone a friend before they can confront the truth on TV.

So forgive me if I hold Tyra Banks accountable for how toxic ANTM became. Because real leaders don’t let pain become entertainment. They stop the show.