The Cheetah Girls’ Chanel Was a 2000s Latina Icon — How Does She Hold Up Now?

Not even halfway through my rewatch of The Cheetah Girls, which premiered on August 15, 2003, I looked over at my husband whose “SMH” smirk had become increasingly visible. In typical husband fashion, he was pretending to not pay attention but was clearly at least mildly enthralled by the Disney Channel classic. 

I mean, could you blame him? Even the most apathetic viewer would have a hard time not getting caught up in the all Juicy Couture-clad teen drama that unfolds over the course of one hour and 40 minutes. You have four girls living in New York City who — true to the musical genre — have a penchant for spontaneously bursting out in song and dance. From a children’s birthday party (hey, everyone’s gotta get their start somewhere) to the literal street, no place is safe from The Cheetah Girls and their flawless four-part harmonies. 

There’s a high-stakes talent show taking place and, naturally, the burgeoning girl group is considered the underdog, but they are determined to prove they have what it takes. In particular, Galleria “Bubbles” Garibaldi (Raven-Symoné) fills the diva-in-charge role; at first, she appears to mean well and is maybe just a little too ambitious for her own good. But she can deliver some serious low blows, like when she tells her groupmate Dorinda “Do” Thomas (Sabrina Bryan) that her personal style isn’t good enough for the group’s image. Mind you, Dorinda is a foster kid who’s bartering for dance classes by picking up cleaning shifts at the local rec center. Needless to say, buying designer clothes isn’t a priority.

Unsurprisingly, Galleria often butts heads with Chanel “Chuchie” Simmons (Adrienne Bailon) and Aquanette “Aqua” Walker (Kiely Williams), aka two of the three founding members of 3LW. Now idk about you, but when the Disney Channel was promoting The Cheetah Girls, I remember being in downright awe that they could get such a strong cast. I was an original 3LW fan and was enjoying That’s So Raven, which premiered on the network in January 2003. So to see these three together in a whole movie — along with the talented Bryan who brought serious dance skills to the table — it felt like my worlds were colliding in a way I didn’t know I needed. 

Granted, I probably hadn’t seen the movie in its entirety for at least 15 years, and it was hard to ignore how poorly the film had aged. Technologically speaking, the video quality seemed to be original, which isn’t that big of a deal, but it can definitely contribute to that distinctly dated feel. 

The throwback vibes kept coming, whether it was the truly ridiculous amount of cheetah print that graced my screen — I guess no one got the memo that it is possible to be too literal — or the kinda-creepy music producer with frosted blonde hair tips named “Jackal” (yes, really). The Cheetah Girls is a time capsule of essential early 2000s energy and watching it now, two decades later, felt like getting a nice, body glitter-filled hug from an old friend.

While the cringe parts are unfortunately inescapable, the movie still holds its own in certain respects. Take, for instance, the actual music. These girls could sing, dance, and put on a show that’s indisputably infectious. Songs like “Cinderella” and “Girl Power” remain catchy AF and I found myself effortlessly singing along because clearly those lyrics are hard-wired someplace deep. They were anthems of empowerment, then and now. They remind me of how important it was for me to have these examples of representation in the media I consumed as a child and adolescent. 

In the movie, Bailon embraces her Latina identity, occasionally inserting Spanish into her casual conversations and wearing her heart on her sleeve. When she learns that Dorinda lives in a foster home and was embarrassed to share that information with her group mates, Chanel tells her, “You’re a Cheetah Girl because of who you are and what’s in your heart. And you’re a pure Cheetah Girl. Por la vida.”

Though she’s a softie, Chanel is como se dice … complicated. She’s also very straightforward and direct; in one of the earlier scenes, her mom, Juanita Simmons (Lori Anne Alter), is rummaging through her daughter’s closet looking for “the bomb top to wear to dinner tonight.” Chanel winces at the mere thought and instructs her mother — who in this moment seems more like an older sister than a mom — not to say “bomb.” That slang isn’t cool anymore. Instead, “say tight,” she explains. When Juanita does say “tight,” Chanel doesn’t miss a mark. “As in, that top is too tight for anybody’s mom to wear,” she quips. 

Her outspoken attitude is unapologetic and you know what? As a Latina who sometimes over-apologizes for every little thing — why is “sorry” embedded into my everyday vocabulary?! — I really appreciate that about Chanel. I admire her in a way, too, because she’s figuring out how to create boundaries in a mother-daughter relationship that doesn’t appear to have many to begin with. 

That being said, she’s still a child. Which means her coping processes are imperfect. During another scene, she goes on a shopping spree with Juanita’s credit card after realizing her mom had canceled their plans to be with her French boyfriend, Luc, instead. Watching this unfold when I was younger, it would have been easy to relate to Chanel’s frustration. As a child, you generally expect — and at times demand — to be the center of attention. In the case of Chanel and her mom, it’s clear the two have communication issues. Chanel doesn’t feel Juanita is being an attentive enough parent; Juanita doesn’t pick up on her daughter’s resentment until it’s too late and she’s maxed out her credit card. 

Upon my rewatch, whenever the two got into an argument, I could see where both parties were coming from, though Chanel’s shopping spree definitely seems more like an overreaction today. Perhaps it’s because I’m probably close to Juanita’s age in the movie (*shudder*), but I empathize with her a bit more. Maturity and life experience have taught me that she probably just needed a damn break from her talented-but-very-dramatic daughter. Even so, Juanita has to learn how to implement boundaries of her own, which would hopefully begin with — at the very least — not going through her daughter’s closet without permission.

Galleria has a similarly fraught relationship with her mother, Dorothea Garibaldi (Lynn Whitfield), though for the opposite reason: Dorothea is too invested in her daughter’s life. She’s quite traditional and expects Galleria to go to college after high school. Meanwhile, Galleria is hellbent on winning the talent show and landing a big recording contract. Her mother’s overbearing nature is too much to handle and probably explains why Galleria has control issues and an “I’m the boss” complex.

These examples of not so picture-perfect mother-daughter relationships were just as necessary 20 years ago as they are today. While it’s a lovely thought to hope that one could be BFFs with their moms, that isn’t always the case. Disney helped normalize the inherent tensions that can exist between moms and daughters, while also demonstrating that moms are human, too, and they don’t always get it right. 

Like any millennial woman raised on the likes of The Cheetah Girls, That’s So Raven, Taina, California Dreams, and other shows built around the premise of “making it big” and striking overnight success, I will forever have a soft spot for nostalgic content that transports me back to a time when my dreams felt almost larger than life. 

Whether something was likely to happen wasn’t a concern. You didn’t entertain likelihood or account for all the obstacles that would surely materialize along the way. You simply dove headfirst into the deep end — and if it doesn’t work out, at least you had a good time doing what you love. For this reason, The Cheetah Girls still manages to pull at my heartstrings all while reminding me that a real princess doesn’t need an ounce of saving.