The Cheetah Girls are having a full cultural moment again — reunion buzz, merch, Spotify streams — and honestly the reason our whole generation is throwing money at nostalgia is both embarrassing and completely logical. We’re not chasing the movies. We’re chasing the version of ourselves that believed every word of ‘Cinderella.’

Okay, so I am standing in line at Target — just minding my business, grabbing whatever I did not come in for — and there is a Cheetah Girls graphic tee on an endcap display like it’s 2003 and nobody is going to say anything about it.

And I didn’t say anything about it either. I almost bought it. That is the whole story.

Something is happening with our generation right now and the Cheetah Girls are somehow at the center of it. The streaming numbers are up. The reunion chatter won’t stop. People my age are openly, unironically losing it — and I need to talk about why, because I think it makes sense. I also think it’s a little bit of a scam we are running on ourselves. Both things are true.

Why are the Cheetah Girls suddenly everywhere again?

Nostalgia cycles used to take about 20 years to kick in — that was the unwritten rule. The Cheetah Girls first movie came out in 2003, which means right now we are sitting almost exactly in that window. It makes sense because the generation that grew up glued to the Disney Channel is now in their 30s, has a little disposable income, and is absolutely drowning in adult responsibilities they did not fully anticipate.

The streaming era made this worse — or better, depending on how you look at it. When everything is available all the time, algorithms figure out what era you’re emotionally stuck in and they just… feed it to you. Cheetah Girls playlist on Spotify. Then a YouTube rabbit hole. Then you’re reading a Reddit thread at midnight about whether a reunion tour is actually happening.

You didn’t choose this. It chose you.

Is this actually about the Cheetah Girls, or is it about being 14?

Honest answer — it’s about being 14. The Cheetah Girls are just really good vessels for that feeling.

Think about what those movies were actually selling. Four girls who were ride-or-die for each other, who believed their dreams were not just possible but inevitable, who got to wear cheetah print in Barcelona without a single consequence. That is not a movie. That is a fantasy about a version of adolescence where everything is loud and bright and it all works out.

When we pay to feel that again — a concert, a rewatch, a tee from Target that we absolutely do not need — we’re not really paying for the IP. We’re paying to briefly un-know everything we’ve learned since then. That’s the product. That’s always been the product.

Do we actually still love these movies, or are we remembering loving them?

This is the question I think about more than I probably should. There’s a difference between a piece of art holding up and a piece of art holding a memory hostage.

I rewatched the first Cheetah Girls movie a while back — not going to lie to you, it is deeply chaotic television in the best possible way. The plot is barely a plot. The fashion choices are a lot. But the songs? The songs are genuinely, embarrassingly good and I will not be taking questions on that.

“Cinderella” alone contains more emotional truth than most things written for adult audiences. Researchers who study music and memory have found that songs we bonded with during adolescence trigger stronger emotional responses than almost anything we encounter as adults — the neural pathways are literally deeper. So when you tear up a little bit during that chorus, that’s not weakness. That’s just your brain doing exactly what it was built to do.

What is the nostalgia industrial complex actually selling us?

This is where I have to be a little honest with myself, and maybe with you too.

There is an entire machine — merch drops, reunion announcements, “remember when” content farms, limited-edition everything — that has figured out exactly how to monetize the feeling I just described. And it is very good at its job. The Cheetah Girls are not unique here. This same machine ran the same play with early 2000s pop, with Y2K fashion, with every Disney Channel reunion special that’s ever existed.

The steel-man version of this is real and I believe it — there’s genuine community in shared nostalgia. It connects people. It’s not purely cynical. But the cynical part is also real, and pretending otherwise is how you end up spending $75 on a candle that smells like “2003 sleepover.” (I’m not saying I’ve seen that candle. I’m saying I’ve seen that candle.)

So why do we keep doing it anyway?

Because adulthood is genuinely hard and “Cheetah Sisters” goes extremely hard. That’s why.

I’m only partially joking. There’s something real underneath the eye-roll — the acknowledgment that life at 30-something has a weight to it that 14-year-old us could not have predicted. Bills and uncertainty and the slow dawning realization that nobody actually has a plan. Nostalgia is a legal, relatively affordable way to set that down for two hours.

And if the thing you’re setting it down for also happens to feature Raven-Symoné and a Barcelona shopping montage — honestly, there are worse coping mechanisms.

Back when I was writing about why certain pop culture just refuses to die, I kept landing on the same conclusion — the stuff that sticks is the stuff that made us feel like the future was wide open. The Cheetah Girls were dripping in that energy. Of course it has a long half-life.

Is a Cheetah Girls reunion actually going to happen?

As of right now, the answer is a loud, chaotic “maybe.” There has been enough public conversation between Adrienne Bailon-Houghton, Sabrina Bryan, and Kiely Williams to keep the internet warm, but nothing locked in. Raven — whose schedule is genuinely always full — is the wildcard the whole fandom is watching.

What’s interesting is that the demand is clearly there. A full stadium tour would sell. The streaming numbers prove the audience never fully left. Whether the actual logistics line up is a different conversation, and anyone who’s watched a reunion fall apart at the last minute — I’m looking at every planned early 2000s girl group comeback — knows not to hold your breath too hard.

But also I would buy tickets immediately and that’s just the truth.

What does it say about us that we want this so badly?

Nothing bad, I think. That’s my actual take after sitting with it.

Wanting to revisit something that made you feel good isn’t regression — it’s just being human. The version of this that gets embarrassing is when nostalgia becomes a substitute for building something new, when the rewatch replaces the dream instead of reminding you it existed. But using it as a refill? As a “oh right, I used to believe things were possible” moment? That makes sense because it’s giving you something you need.

In my old post about what early 2000s pop culture actually did for girls, I kept coming back to this idea — that the stuff made for young women in that era, cheesy and corporate as a lot of it was, told us we were the main characters. That message did not age out. We still need to hear it.

Cheetah Girls or not.

So yeah. The nostalgia industrial complex is real, it is absolutely targeting you with precision, and you are probably going to buy something you don’t need because of it. Welcome to being a person.

The Cheetah Girls earned their staying power though. Those songs are genuinely good. That friendship energy is genuinely something. And if feeling 14 again for two hours costs you a Target tee and a Spotify stream — I think that’s a fine trade.

Just don’t let anyone charge you $75 for a nostalgia candle. I’m drawing the line there.

Instead, it was a hectic juggling of travel details and the fall out from someone taking their own life.

Please do not read further if death or suicide are issues for you. I would never want to cause someone anxiety or to relive trauma. As someone who had a very serious struggle with suicide, I understand the kind of fierce protectiveness we have to have over ourselves. This post isn’t to hurt anyone, but because this hit me really hard. Who gets to decide when it’s time to go?

Who Gets To Decide When It’s Time To Go?

Still here?

Okay. I’m unpacking something complicated and maybe I’m not always right, maybe I’m judgmental or hypocritical, but that’s why I want to talk about it. Because talking about things helps us cope and understand, whereas shoving the problems in a closet merely creates more problems, shame and fear.

Suicide.

Just that word makes me flinch.

The choices around suicide are never easy. My spiritual and personal belief is that it’s wrong. Period. For me. I speak as someone who has tried on numerous times to end my own life. I went through a dark struggle a few decades ago. I was a teenager trapped in a small bubble with people who hated me, mocked me, I suffered hazing abuse at school, there were broken bones, I can’t tell you the number of times that I was that girl other kid’s said should kill herself. But I powered through. It was hard, but I found comfort and support in my spiritual beliefs and one very special friend. Seriously, if I hadn’t had one particular friend in my life at that point I’m not sure I’d be here today. And that’s the power that one person can have on your life, but that’s a whole other post. Since those days, I’ve come to terms with my demons, the things that haunted me, and I’m better for it. I’m stronger. I’ve got scars, but I’m proud of them even when they ache.

But will my mind change in forty, sixty, eighty years when I’m elderly, maybe alone, and trapped in a body that’s dying all around me?

The truth is, I don’t know.

This weekend, while preparing for the reunion, we experienced a great loss. I’m being vague in an effort to protect family, so please understand the lack of details. We had an elderly family member. He’s been in decline. There is no relief for the pain he’s been in, and it got so bad that this person decided to take their own life. It was…horrific. The worst Dexter episode or action movie with a high body count doesn’t adequately convey what happens to the human body when it is killed by a bullet. Some of the things you never expect is that… no one is around to clean things up. The stains. The smells. They’re left behind once the police finish their investigation. And there is an investigation. It’s not a kind affair. Suicides are treated as homicides and everyone suspect until proven otherwise. It’s traumatizing on top of everything else. And then you get to pick up the pieces. You have to replace rugs, paint walls, dispose of furniture. A hundred details you aren’t prepared for. That the deceased loved one never really considered.

But what if we could be ready?

My moral compass is opposed to the idea. My gut says it’s wrong. But what if my knee jerk reaction is wrong?

I wonder, what kind of animals are we that we force our elderly to be miserable? My moral compass be damned. Why should my ethical barometer sentence someone else to live in pain?

Part of me can’t believe I’m saying all of this but, why are we so opposed to physician assisted euthanasia? Allowing someone to go out on their own terms? Letting family be prepared and aided in saying goodbye to their loved ones? Give them some dignity. I’m fully open to discussing it, but for the first time in my life I’m seriously questioning a fixed point in my ethics and the reasoning behind it.

For me and my well being, suicide is something I can’t consider. Right now. But you know what? Alzheimer’s runs in my family. So do heart problems. And old age is expensive. It would be callous of me to not consider a kinder end of life alternative than wasting away. I am by no means advocating suicide as a way to escape ones troubles. No, what I’m beginning to wonder is, could there be a better way to handle the end of one’s life instead of slowly wasting away?

If it were an option, would we have been spared the heartbreaking loss? Would we have been able to allow this person to go out with grace?