What Does Nia From Dance Moms Do Now

So, picture this: it’s a random Tuesday night, and I’m doom-scrolling through Instagram when I see a video of a woman absolutely shredding a guitar solo, her hair flying, looking like she just stepped off a 1970s album cover. I squint. Wait a second—is that Nia from Dance Moms? Yep. The same Nia Frazier who spent years being told her turns weren’t sharp enough by Abby Lee Miller. And now? She’s fronting a rock band. Life, right?

It’s the kind of plot twist that makes you chuckle. You remember Nia as the sweet, always-smiling kid who got sidelined for not being “competitive enough,” and now she’s out here owning a stage with a Les Paul instead of a jazz shoe. That’s not just a glow-up; that’s a full-on rebellion. And honestly? We’re here for it.

From Pyramid to Power Chord

Let’s rewind for a second—because if you watched Dance Moms, you know Nia was the underdog with the heart of gold. She stuck out like a sore thumb in that glittery, tear-stained dance studio. Abby famously told her she’d never be a “star,” and the producers definitely used that for drama. But here’s the thing: Nia’s story isn’t about revenge, it’s about reinvention.

She didn’t just quit dancing and fade into obscurity. Oh no. She went to college, majored in psychology (smart cookie), and then decided, “You know what? I’m going to make noise.” And I mean that literally. She launched a music career under the name Nia Sioux—yes, Sioux like the tribe, a nod to her Native American heritage.

The music? It’s not what you’d expect. It’s rock, mixed with a little alt-country swagger. Think Pat Benatar meets Fleetwood Mac, but with a 2020s pop edge. She dropped an EP called California Dreaming, and now she’s touring small venues, playing guitar, and writing her own lyrics. Take that, Abby.

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The Side Hustles You Didn’t See Coming

But wait—there’s more. Because Nia isn’t just a musician; she’s a businesswoman with a side of self-care. She runs a YouTube channel where she talks about mental health, anxiety, and (my favorite) how to unlearn the toxic perfectionism reality TV gives you. It’s raw, funny, and feels like a chat with a friend who’s been through the wringer.

She also started a cash cow called Bougie Bakes—a custom cake business. Yep, you can order a sugar-crafted masterpiece from the same girl who once cried over a pirouette. I guess after years of being told she wasn’t “good enough,” she decided to just make her own sweet success. The irony is delicious (pun absolutely intended).

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And let’s not forget her activism. Nia uses her platform to talk about diversity in the dance world and calls out the lack of representation in entertainment. She’s not just a survivor of the show; she’s a critic of the system that exploited her as a kid. That’s brave, and a little bit spicy—which I love.

The “Where Are They Now” Myth

Here’s the thing that cracks me up about articles like this: everyone assumes that Dance Moms kids either become dance teachers or train for Broadway. But Nia? She flipped the script. She’s living proof that you can evolve past your label. She’s no longer the “browbeaten teen”; she’s a multi-hyphenate creative who treats the past like a side note, not a main character.

Here's What Nia Sioux From Dance Moms Is Doing Now

Sometimes I think about how Abby Lee Miller once said Nia “didn’t have the look.” Now Nia’s out here with a band, a cake empire, and a college degree. The look she’s got now? It’s the look of someone who doesn’t need your approval. Mic drop.

What’s Next? (And Why You Should Care)

So what does Nia do right now, in 2024? She’s on tour, teasing new music, and posting behind-the-scenes clips of her band rehearsing at 3 a.m. She also collabs with other reality TV alums—because why not make a little ironic art from the mess that made you famous?

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Oh, and she’s a mentor for young dancers who feel pigeonholed. She tells them: “You can be a dancer, a musician, a baker, a nerd—whatever. Just don’t let one show define your whole life.” That’s the real legacy. Not the pyramid, not the tears—but the permission to pivot.

I’ll be honest: when I see Nia now, I don’t see a tragic reality TV character. I see a boss who used her trauma as fuel. She’s trading jazz hands for guitar picks, and she’s doing it with a grin that says, “You can’t dim my light, because I bought my own generator.”

So next time you’re in your feels about a setback, just think of Nia Sioux. If she can turn a pyramid-schemed childhood into rock concerts and cake art, you can probably survive your Monday meeting. And if you ever see her live, buy her a drink. She earned it—in more ways than one.