Nanterre's Cheerleaders Refuse to Compete in French Cheerleading Championships

All photos by Julia Grandperret Motin.

In the American movie Bring it on – a classic comedy that most girls my age have watched at least six times – the newly elected captain of the Carno Rancho High School cheerleader squad, Torrance Shipman, trains her team tirelessly in order for them to preserve their title of national cheerleading champions. Throughout the film, cheerleaders are presented as extremely competitive people who only live for victory – even when this means failing their chemistry class or sacrificing their colleagues’ cervical spine.

Before embodying this kind of bland stereotype and becoming a symbol of social success, cheerleaders only existed in Northern American universities. Over the years, the discipline was slowly exported to many countries around the world – including France, at the beginning of the 1980s. Since then, it has been recognised by the French Federation of American football as a sport, and there’s even a national championship taking place here every year during which all 70 national teams fight for the first place. One of the country's most talented teams however, recently stopped competing in an attempt to devote themselves wholeheartedly to the art of dancing with pom poms. The Dolls Cheerleaders, based in the 15th arrondissement of Paris, train themselves every Tuesday and Thursday at the dancing studio Main d’œuvres.

I visited one of the Dolls' training sessions in early September. Their coach Sophie was frenetically shaking a sheet detailing their choreography. “Everybody in staggered rows, one triangle, two lines!” As the tacky notes of Jason Derulo’s 'Wiggle' resonated in the studio, the dancers got to repeating their routines, alternating between cheerful somersaults and dramatic hair flips.

“I founded the Dolls in 2010,” said Sophie. “At that time, there was no other Parisian team, so I created my own club because I wanted to dance and was too lazy to go to the suburbs.” Inspired by American teams such as the Laker Girls, the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders or the Maverick Dancers, Sophie started to look for a French basketball team to support. “For several years, we danced for Paris-Levallois, but we switched for Nanterre because the person in charge of the programme didn't seem to appreciate of our work. We do two-thirds of their games, and the New Star 92 takes care of the rest.”

Most of Sophie’s recruits are students – of medicine, engineering or communications – while the rest have to combine their passion with their regular jobs – some are event planners, sell beauty products or work in public relations. “It’s a very physical activity. We have to train at least five hours per week and we must dance in public several times a month,” said Sephora, one of the youngest dancers. “We all have something else to do, but this our passion after all.”

Most of the girls deplore the fact that compared to the United States, their discipline is underrepresented in France. After spending some time with them, I noticed that they had all grown up with a fascination for American culture (something you could say about most French people, and the rest of the world) and had started out as modern jazz or ballet dancers.

“I actually think that American movies carry a positive image for cheerleaders,” Sophie continued. “In any case, a lot of girls come to see me because they grew up watching these films, and it helps me recruit new members every year.”

Still, their team is frequently approached by people with salacious motives: “Every week, I get contacted by nightclub owners who want us to dance for them. I’m fully aware that I’m leading a team of pretty girls who dance in suggestive outfits, but we’re working way too hard to waste our potential on cheap club podiums. That’s definitely not the message we’re willing to send.”

At the beginning of October, the girls danced at the Palais des sports de Nanterre for a game between their team and Paris-Levallois. During breaks they went through eight dance routines, refereed a gunny sack race and distributed a stream of high fives to Dunky – the relentless mascot of the JSF Nanterre.

A commentator yelled every time they appeared on stage, sparking off fierce clapping from the crowd and salacious jokes from the most sceptical part of the audience. Unfortunately, Nanterre lost – 71 to 60 – and the newspapers didn’t talk about anything other than the argument between players Blake Schilb and Johan Passave-Ducteil. But I didn’t really care about all that – the adorable Dolls Cheerleaders had already won my heart.

You can find the Dolls Cheerleaders here

See the rest of Julia’s work here

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