Content warning: this article contains references to sexual abuse.

 

“Welcome to my world, won’t you come on in?”

Jim Reeves’ “Welcome to My World” plays as the opening credits roll in the first season of Netflix’s “Cheer.” The jazzy, slow-tempo song strikes a contrast with the cheerleaders as they flip through the air, hurdle into basket tosses, and ultimately create a giant pyramid. “Cheer” was an instant success when it came out in January 2020, so much so that producers began filming the second season that same month. 

Season two of “Cheer” uses Reeves’ “Welcome to My World” again for the opening credits, but this time it’s a little different. A wispy chorus replaces Reeve’s jazzy voice, and the once carefree tune is now more melancholy and a little creepy. The song is once again paired with athletes flipping, jumping, and stacking on top of each other à la season one. The producers’ choice to use this wistful version of “Welcome to My World” was no accident. While the first season gave viewers a motivating story about the best junior collegiate cheer team in the country, the second season reveals a darker side of the sport. 

“Cheer” is a docuseries that follows the Navarro College cheer team in Corsicana, Texas as they prepare for national championships at Daytona Beach. Team coach Monica Aldama led the team to their 14th national championship title in season one, and the second season is focused on winning number 15. The season is triumphant at times. But mostly, it’s hard to watch and to focus on anything but the headline issue that looms above the show: cheerleader Jerry Harris’ arrest and charges for child pornography and child sexual exploitation.

Harris was first charged in September 2020 in the middle of the second season’s filming. Instead of editing him out of the series, Harris is included—and featured—in the first four episodes of the season. The fifth episode, called “Jerry,” addresses the allegations and includes interviews with two teenage brothers, referred to as Charlie and Sam (their last names were omitted), who were among the alleged victims to Harris’ predation. After the episode, the season refocuses on the team’s journey to Daytona. 

Don’t get me wrong: I loved “Cheer” season one, and was shocked by all I learned about the sport. In the world of American television, cheerleaders are often stereotyped as the popular, rich and air-headed girls who date boys on the football team. When “Cheer” first came out, it broke these preconceptions. In this way, the show has cultural significance. Plus, if you’re a sucker for reality-esque docuseries like me, the show just entices you. The first season balanced showcasing the athleticism of the Navarro cheerleaders with touching stories about the lives and friendships of the athletes. When Netflix announced a second season, I was excited.

The funny thing about reality TV is that you feel like you get to know the people on screen. When your favorite cheerleader overcomes a challenge, you feel a sense of pride for them. When someone shares a personal story about their childhood, you feel for them. The illusion of reality TV, of course, is that it isn’t reality. Or at least not the whole version.  

“Unless you’re behind closed doors with a person, you don’t know them,” Sarah Klein, Sam and Charlie’s attorney, said in an interview on the “Jerry” episode. 

Harris was a breakout star after the first season’s release. He was featured on The Ellen DeGeneres Show, praised by Oprah Winfrey, and even made a campaign video with President Biden in the months prior to his arrest. Charlie expressed that for a long time, he felt he couldn’t speak out because his cheerleading friends all loved and idolized Harris. When the news broke, both Charlie and Sam were ostracized by the cheer community: at competitions, Charlie describes being pointed at, whispered about, and avoided by other athletes. In the episode, we see sickening footage of Harris teaching young children at cheer clinics and posing for pictures with child fans.

In the wake of #MeToo, Time’s Up, and the sex abuse trial of USA Gymnastics team doctor Larry Nassar, it has become clear that while perpetrators must be held accountable for their actions, so must the institutions that protect them. Kristen, Sam and Charlie’s mother (her last name was also omitted), reported the abuse multiple times to the USA All Star Federation (USASF), where Jerry was coaching kids. After two months passed without a response, she reported again. When, again, nothing happened, she told the FBI. She also reached out to the press.

“Our investigation into misconduct in cheerleading really came out of the reporting that my colleagues and I had done into USA Gymnastics and Larry Nassar,” Marisa Kwiatkowski of USA Today said in the “Jerry” episode. She and colleague Tricia Nadolny published an in-depth investigation on USASF.

The charges brought against Harris include five minors, and these are just those who have come forward. Jerry Harris, if found guilty, is a serial child predator. And yet, “Cheer” still seems to glorify him in many ways throughout the second season. 

Harris is seen time and time again cheering on his teammates and participating in the sport with his fellow athletes. The narrative of much of the team, or at least what is shown in the season, is reminiscent of the “promising young man” trope; like in the cases of Brock Turner, Brett Kavanaugh, and many other men accused of sexual assault, people discuss all the great things about Harris instead of addressing his misconduct. When the team was interviewed about the charges, many lamented what a great kid Harris was and how they never expected him to hurt anyone, comparing his incarceration to the death of a loved one. Teammate La’Darius Marshall, however, took a strong stance against Harris that strikes a contrast with the rest of the show’s attitude.

“I don’t care how famous you are, I don’t care how much money you got, I don’t care how much people love you,” Marshall said. “That don’t give you the right to do stuff like this.” 

The emphasis on Harris’ agency in his own actions is not echoed by the rest of the team or in the show’s production and editing. In the episode “Jerry,”as well as in the first episode of the season, videos of Harris on red carpets, commercials, and stages play in montages, almost like an “in memoriam” video. 

If you asked me what I thought of “Cheer” prior to season two, I’d say that it was a fantastic work of documentary journalism. Now that I’ve seen season two’s depictions of a child sexual abuser, I’d say it’s a piece of reality TV that is pining for headlines and money. 

Still, I’m not entirely sure how to feel about the uplifting parts of the second season (yes, they did exist). It’s amazing to watch Maddy Brum, a rookie from Massachusetts, fly above her teammates’ heads while rising above the challenges in her life. It’s beautiful to see the friendship of teammates Gillian Rupert and Cassadee Dunlap, who support each other through the pandemic. And, of course, it’s awesome to watch Marshall own each cheer routine. 

My experience watching “Cheer,” or at least part of it, was exactly how producers intended it to be: entertaining. Did some of that entertainment come at the cost of addressing more important issues, and glossing over Harris’ actions? Probably. And, if the show had focused more on Harris, would people want to watch it? Would companies still want to sponsor Navarro cheerleaders? Would people be less likely to buy Aldama’s recently released book? Maybe not.

In the bridge of “Welcome to My World,” the lyrics beckon listeners closer: “knock and the door will open, seek and you will find.” While “Cheer” season two is an uncomfortable watch, it fulfills the “we will show you this world” promise of the opening credits. When you watch the show, you are immersed into the Navarro cheer world, but not necessarily the sport’s world at large. 

I’m not sure if it’s the responsibility of the show to dive deeper into the systemic problems of the cheer industry, but as I ruminate on the second season, I wish that they did. It would also be interesting to know what the Navarro team is doing to make sure this doesn’t happen again; as moguls in the cheer world, they have a lot of power. The season left me wanting more accountability, and a deeper look into power structures in the world of cheer.  

 

Halle Newman can be reached at hnewman@wesleyan.edu.