Strictly’s Motsi Mabuse has stepped in to support Amber Davies after the star was hit with yet another wave of trolling about her previous dance training.

Amber and partner Nikita Kuzmin sailed into the semi-final at the weekend. But their win didn’t go down well with everyone.

After the pair were saved unanimously by the judges in the dance-off – sending Lewis Cope and Katya Jones home – some viewers took aim at Amber online, accusing her of having an unfair advantage.

Amber Davies has hit back at trolls after making it to the Strictly Come Dancing 2025 semi-final (Credit: BBC)
Motsi Mabuse defends Amber Davies against trolls

It’s not the first time she’s been targeted, and Amber has already urged fans to “be kind”. Now, though, Motsi has made her feelings crystal clear.

Posting a heartfelt message on Instagram, Strictly judge Motsi Mabuse said she “applauds” both Amber Davies and Lewis for the dignified way they’ve handled the scrutiny around their dance backgrounds.

“I applaud the both of you how you are handling all of this negativity towards you, to think how both of you stepped in last minute giving us honestly beautiful dances!! You both have my respect,” Motsi wrote.

A quiet but powerful show of solidarity. And one Amber will no doubt be grateful for.

Strictly Come Dancing star hits back against backlash

In an emotionally-charged message, Amber – who’s position on the show has been criticised due to her profession as a West End leading lady – reminded fans it is “just a television show” on Monday.

Writing on X, formerly known as Twitter, Amber said: “Guys, please… it really is just a television show. I wasn’t even supposed to be in the comp. You have no idea what we put our mind and body through for this experience.

“I’m really just trying my best with the opportunity that came to me. To anyone you has left a NICE comment thank you.”

Amber, who was drafted in to replace Dani Dyer, reshared her message on Instagram. She added: “The meanies are out to play. Please be kind.”

Amber and Nikita performed a Charleston during the Musicals Week quarter-final. They took on Sit Down (You’re Rockin’ the Boat) from Guys and Dolls.

Shirley Ballas, Anton Du Beke, Motsi Mabuse and Craig Revel Horwood all awarded them a 10, giving them a perfect score of 40. But when it came to the public vote, they fell drastically short.

The judges admitted they were “speechless” by the outcome. However, there has been a growing backlash against both Amber and Lewis for their professional dance experience.

Both competitors were brought it to Strictly Come Dancing at the last minute. But both have a background in dance. Lewis has also starred in the West End’s Billy Elliott and performed on Sky’s Got To Dance.
Amber and Nikita received a perfect 40 for their Musicals Weeks Charleston (Credit: BBC)
‘The public wants an amateur to win!’

Writing on X this weekend, one viewer said: “I don’t know why everyone’s so shocked. Yes Lewis and Amber are the best dancers but they were also over qualified, have both performed professionally in musicals and the public wants an amateur to win.”

Another added: “Shirley saying Karen was a novice when she isn’t, that the West End is calling Amber when she’s just finished one show & is into another! It’s a mockery this year!“

“‘Rubbish All three have dance experience, Lewis, Karen and Amber. Amber has been in west end shows,” another said.

However, others have thrown their support behind Amber.

One wrote: “Really not getting all the unnecessary hate for Amber right now on #Strictly #StrictlyComeDancing – Are people jealous of her because of her background in Musicals or because she’s attractive etc? She came in at the very last minute and is fully embracing the SCD experience.”

Someone else said: “I just hope people leave Amber alone now and focus on the routines and the dance quality not who can dance or not especially so close to the final. She didn’t deserve to see those horrible comments.”

Amber and Nikita now head into this weekend’s semi-final alongside a seriously competitive line-up. They’ll be taking to the floor with Karen Carney and Carlos Gu, George Clarke and Alexis Warr, and Balvinder Sopal and Julian Caillon – a final four that promises one of the tightest showdowns of the series.

The swirl of sequins, music, glitter, and energy that defines Strictly Come Dancing has always served as an escape from the pressures of daily life—a celebration of movement, performance, and joy. But beneath the bright lights and dazzling costumes lies a reality that is often overshadowed by the spectacle: the emotional fragility of the people who put themselves on stage, week after week, to be judged not only by professionals but by millions watching from home. This delicate truth surfaced again when Amber Davies, one of this year’s most talked-about contestants, found herself at the center of a wave of online trolling. What should have been a time of personal growth, pride, and artistic exploration quickly became tainted by cruelty. But this time, someone refused to let the silence linger. Motsi Mabuse, beloved judge, former dancer, and one of the strongest voices on the panel, spoke out with unmistakable emotion, offering support, wisdom, and a firm condemnation of the trolls who targeted Amber. In doing so, she ignited an important conversation—not only about the pressures of Strictly itself but about the emotional cost of online hate and the responsibility society holds in protecting those who dare to be vulnerable in front of an audience.

Motsi’s intervention was not simply a judge defending a contestant. It was an act born from empathy, experience, and an intimate understanding of the sacrifices dancers make—physically, mentally, and emotionally—when they step into the spotlight. She has spent decades in the competitive dance world, witnessing the countless layers of insecurity, fear, and self-doubt that dancers face, even as they appear strong and confident on stage. Strictly, for all its glamour, is no different. Behind each performance lies hours of rehearsal, physical strain, emotional exhaustion, and the constant internal battle between striving for perfection and accepting one’s human limitations. When trolls attacked Amber Davies, they were not merely criticizing footwork or technique—they were targeting a human being whose courage had brought her onto a stage where judgment is inescapable. Motsi recognized this instantly, and her voice carried not just authority but compassion, the kind that can only come from someone who has lived the journey herself.

Amber’s rise to fame, beginning with her success on Love Island and evolving into a career in musical theatre, has often placed her under a microscope. Many still fail to see her as anything more than a reality star, overlooking her years of professional training and her dedication to her craft. That bias followed her into Strictly, where she not only competed but thrived. Yet her growth, improvement, and commitment were overshadowed by pockets of negativity that attacked her character, questioned her motives, and belittled her achievements. Trolls insinuated that she didn’t belong on the show, that she lacked authenticity, and even accused her of exploiting relationships for publicity. These narratives were not critiques—they were attempts to strip her of dignity. And Motsi, with the clarity of someone who has seen such attempts far too many times, spoke with a fierceness that resonated far beyond the Strictly stage.

Her statement, though brief, was layered with emotional truth: performers are human. Judges, dancers, celebrities—none of them are immune to the pain of harsh words. Motsi reminded viewers that the joy of Strictly is built on vulnerability. The show thrives because contestants allow themselves to be seen, to make mistakes, to grow in real time. That vulnerability is a gift, not a weakness. And when trolls exploit that openness to inflict emotional harm, it reveals something deeply broken within the culture of online discourse. Motsi’s voice trembled slightly as she expressed her support, not because she was unsure, but because she felt the weight of Amber’s pain and the pain of countless others who had endured similar treatment. Her words were both a shield and a call to action.

Amber herself spoke through social media, expressing confusion, sadness, and frustration over the relentlessness of the online attacks. She admitted that she tries to stay strong, to focus on her dancing, to honor the commitment she made to herself, her partner, and her fans. But the negativity, she confessed, sometimes seeped in and made her question everything—her talent, her worth, her right to be there. These moments of self-doubt were emotionally devastating not because Amber lacks confidence but because she, like every performer, is human enough to feel the sting of cruelty. The trolls did not see the hours she spent in rehearsals pushing her physical limits, the injuries she worked through, the emotional rollercoaster of learning new styles each week. They saw only an opportunity to project their dissatisfaction, jealousy, or unresolved emotions onto someone they believed would never fight back.

But Amber wasn’t alone. When Motsi stood up for her, she sent a message not only to the trolls but to Amber: you are seen, you are valued, you are protected. That emotional reassurance matters deeply, especially in the isolating world of celebrity criticism. It reminded Amber that her journey was worthy, her progress was real, and her presence on the show was earned through hard work, passion, and dedication. This validation does not erase the emotional harm inflicted by trolls, but it offers a lifeline—a grounding truth to hold onto when negativity threatens to overwhelm.

The emotional landscape surrounding Strictly Come Dancing is far more complex than many viewers realize. Contestants balance physical exhaustion with emotional vulnerability, trying to improve each week while managing personal expectations, professional critiques, and public scrutiny. Some enter the competition to regain confidence after difficult chapters in their lives; others join to challenge themselves or reconnect with a part of their identity they have long neglected. Whatever the reason, each contestant brings a heart full of hopes, insecurities, and dreams. Trolls rarely see this. They see only a performance, a costume, a moment on screen. But that moment represents layers of emotional labor invisible to the audience.

Motsi Mabuse, as a judge and former professional dancer, understands the emotional architecture behind every performance. She has lived the fear of stepping onto a stage, the pressure of perfection, the heartbreak of mistakes, the thrill of success, and the vulnerability of being evaluated. Her empathy is not performative—it is ingrained. That is why her defense of Amber Davies carried such emotional power. She was not simply scolding trolls; she was advocating for the emotional well-being of performers everywhere. Her voice became a guardian, a protector, a reminder that cruelty has consequences and that performers deserve respect.

Her defense also illuminated an important truth about the culture of Strictly. The show thrives not because of flawless performances but because of the emotional journeys the contestants undertake. Viewers become invested in their growth, their stumbles, their breakthroughs. When trolling enters the equation, it threatens to destroy the very essence of the show—the vulnerability, the courage, the humanity. Motsi’s emotional plea was not only for Amber but for the spirit of Strictly itself.

Beyond the world of dance, the situation sparked a broader societal conversation about online behavior. Social media has created an illusion of distance that allows people to forget the humanity of those they target. Empathy dwindles behind the anonymity of a screen. But the emotional damage inflicted by online cruelty is real, lasting, and often invisible. Motsi’s words shone a light on this invisible wound, forcing the public to reckon with the reality that online hate has consequences far beyond digital spaces.

Amber’s journey on Strictly became symbolic of a larger emotional truth: when someone pursues a challenge with passion, they deserve encouragement, support, and kindness—not ridicule. Her performances reflected growth, dedication, and joy. But the trolls, fueled by their own unresolved emotions, attempted to overshadow that joy with negativity. Yet, in the face of cruelty, Amber continued to dance. That alone demonstrated extraordinary emotional resilience.

Her partner, traditionally providing choreographic guidance, became also an emotional anchor. Together, they built a partnership based not only on dance technique but on trust. Their rehearsals became sanctuaries—spaces where Amber could express her fears, receive reassurance, and channel her emotions into performance. The emotional bond they built served as another line of defense against the trolls’ cruelty. And when Motsi spoke out, it added yet another layer of support reinforcing Amber’s emotional safety.

What many people fail to realize is that trolling affects not only the individual but everyone connected to them—partners, families, friends, coaches. When Amber’s pain surfaced, it rippled into her relationships. Loved ones hurt when she hurts. Viewers who admired her felt protective. Motsi felt compelled to act because, in her heart, she saw Amber not as a competitor but as a young woman experiencing undue pain. That emotional connection gave her words power.

The emotional weight of this moment also highlighted the need for cultural change. Society must evolve beyond using celebrities as emotional punching bags. The normalization of online hate has reached a dangerous level, and the emotional well-being of public figures is often sacrificed in the name of entertainment or opinion. Motsi’s intervention was a small but significant step toward dismantling that harmful dynamic. She used her platform not to judge but to heal, to educate, to draw boundaries.

Amber’s emotional response revealed the vulnerability of even the strongest performers. She admitted that she did not want trolls to dictate her experience but acknowledged how difficult it was to block out the negativity. Her struggle mirrors that of thousands who face cyberbullying daily. Her courage in continuing to perform, to smile, to dance, despite the emotional wounds inflicted upon her, is a testament to the resilience of those who choose joy over fear.

Strictly Come Dancing thrives on joy. It thrives on growth, connection, and humanity. It thrives because people like Amber choose to challenge themselves publicly. And it thrives because judges like Motsi protect the emotional environment that allows contestants to flourish. When one of its own is targeted, the show loses a piece of its heart. Motsi’s defense was an act of preservation—preserving the emotional integrity of the show, the dignity of its contestants, and the values it represents.

As the controversy continued, Amber found renewed strength not from ignoring the trolls but from embracing the support surrounding her. Messages from fans poured in, each one an emotional antidote to the bitterness of online hate. Fellow contestants expressed their solidarity. Former Strictly stars shared their own experiences with trolling, helping Amber feel less alone. This collective support served as a counterweight to the emotional toll of the negativity.

Her journey, though painful, became an opportunity for growth. She learned to trust her instincts, to value her own opinion above the noise of strangers, and to rely on the emotional pillars in her life—her partner, her family, her colleagues. She discovered resilience she did not know she possessed. And every time she stepped onto the dance floor afterward, she danced not only for herself but as a symbol of defiance against cruelty.

In time, the public began to rally around her even more passionately. Her performances gained emotional depth, as though the pain she endured infused her movements with new meaning. She danced with vulnerability, with fire, with a newfound clarity of purpose. And Motsi watched with pride, recognizing that Amber was not merely surviving the storm—she was transforming within it.

The emotional arc of this chapter in Strictly history will be remembered not for the cruelty of the trolls but for the strength of the women who refused to let that cruelty define the narrative. Motsi’s voice, grounded in empathy, echoed far beyond the ballroom. Amber’s resilience became a testament to the power of vulnerability. Together, they turned a moment of pain into a message of empowerment.

In the end, this was not merely about dance. It was about humanity, empathy, and the emotional cost of living in a digital world. It was about the need to protect those who dare to be vulnerable, to celebrate their courage, to lift them when they falter. Motsi Mabuse spoke out because she understood that silence enables cruelty. And Amber Davies kept dancing because she understood that courage dismantles it.

Their story is a reminder that behind every sequined costume and every graceful step lies a beating heart, a fragile spirit, a human story full of fear, hope, and determination. And sometimes, it takes one brave voice—like Motsi’s—to remind the world that kindness is not optional. It is essential.

As the conversation around Amber Davies and the trolling she endured continued to echo through social media and living rooms across the country, something deeper began to unfold—something that went beyond the glitter, the choreography, the judges’ scores, and even the performances themselves. It was the emergence of a shared emotional truth, one that resonated quietly yet powerfully with viewers who had watched her smile bravely through criticism she should never have had to face. The moment Motsi Mabuse spoke out in her defense became the emotional turning point that illuminated everything at stake—the fragility of courage, the importance of support, the silent wounds inflicted by online cruelty, and the profound humanity embedded in a show designed to bring joy. In the days that followed, as Amber returned to rehearsals and prepared for her next dance, she carried with her not only the weight of her own emotions but the swell of collective empathy from strangers who had come to understand her vulnerability more intimately than before. And in that shared emotional space, the story transformed from one of pain into one of resilience.

Amber’s emotional journey did not end the moment Motsi defended her. In many ways, it was only beginning. The experience had peeled back a layer of armor she had worn for years, exposing not weakness but truth. For the first time, the public saw the emotional cost behind her determination. They saw a young woman fighting through fear, exhaustion, pressure, and insecurity, yet still choosing to show up, to dance, to give herself fully to something she loved. That courage resonated deeply in a world where vulnerability is often mistaken for fragility. Amber’s story became a reminder that vulnerability is, in fact, the purest form of strength. It requires bravery to be seen, to be judged, to be misunderstood—and still choose to continue.

The days after Motsi’s statement were filled with quiet reflection for Amber. Returning to the rehearsal studio, she found comfort in the structure of dance—the repetition, the rhythm, the movement that allowed her to release emotions trapped inside her chest. Dance became her sanctuary once more, a place where words were unnecessary and where pain could be transformed into expression rather than silence. Her partner, ever patient, understood the unspoken heaviness she carried. They barely needed to discuss the trolling anymore; he could feel the weight of it in the tremor of her laugh, the tension in her shoulders, the way she hesitated for just a beat longer before beginning a new routine. And yet, every time she mastered a new sequence or pressed through physical discomfort, her confidence flickered back to life. Small victories became emotional lifelines.

Motsi, too, continued to reflect on what had unfolded. She had spoken out instinctively, the way someone does when they witness injustice inflicted upon a person who does not deserve it. But the emotional aftershocks stayed with her. She knew better than anyone how deeply performers feel criticism—how they hold it not in their minds but in their bodies, their breath, their posture. She thought about her own early days as a dancer, when one unkind comment could unravel hours of progress. She remembered the nights she lay awake, replaying each mistake, wondering whether she belonged on the stage at all. That memory is what gave her voice its firm, unwavering tone when she defended Amber. It wasn’t just empathy—it was experience, lived and felt and carried through time.

The emotional truth that Amber and Motsi illuminated became a gateway for others to share their experiences. Former contestants, professional dancers, even celebrities from unrelated fields began speaking publicly about their own encounters with trolling. Their stories varied, but the emotional core was the same: the pain of being reduced to a caricature by strangers who did not know them. It created a ripple effect that loosened the silence surrounding online cruelty. People began discussing the psychological toll it takes; the anxiety that creeps into the quiet moments; the self-doubt that festers beneath confidence; the isolation that grows from feeling misunderstood by thousands. Amber watched these conversations unfold with both sadness and relief—sadness for the collective suffering, relief that she was not alone.

As the weekend approached and the next Strictly live show edged closer, Amber’s nerves heightened. This performance mattered to her—not because she wanted to prove anything to the trolls, but because she wanted to reclaim her joy. She wanted to dance not under a shadow but under lights that celebrated her effort. Rehearsals grew more emotional as she channeled everything she had felt—anger, sadness, gratitude, hope—into each step. There were moments when she broke down crying in the studio, overwhelmed by the emotional intensity of it all. But each time, her partner placed a hand gently on her back, grounding her. Each time, she wiped her tears, breathed deeply, and returned to the routine. Her resilience painted the walls of the studio like a quiet, pulsing heartbeat.

By Saturday, something in Amber had shifted. She stepped onto the Strictly stage with a stillness that was not the absence of fear but the acceptance of courage. When the music began, she moved with a rawness she had never shown before. Her lines were powered not only by technique but by emotion flowing freely through her body. Her footwork carried strength; her turns carried elegance; her expressions carried truth. Viewers could feel it—not just see it. The audience rose to their feet, not because the dance was perfect but because it was honest. It was the performance of a woman who had been hurt, who had been judged, who had been belittled—and who had chosen to rise anyway.

Motsi watched with a full heart, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. Not the dramatic tears of a television moment, but the sincere tears of someone witnessing a soul reclaim itself. When it came time to speak, her voice was gentle but steady. She praised Amber not only for the technical aspects of the performance but for the emotional bravery it took to step onto the floor after such a difficult week. She acknowledged the pain without spotlighting it, honored the resilience without romanticizing it. Her words lifted Amber the way a mentor lifts a student—not through flattery but through recognition.

Amber’s reaction—eyes glistening, chest trembling, smile soft but trembling—revealed the emotional depth of what Motsi’s support meant. In a world that often focuses on glamorous exteriors, this exchange stripped away every layer except humanity. It was teacher and student; judge and dancer; woman and woman. Two hearts communicating in a space where empathy overshadowed performance.

As the scores came in, applause filled the studio. But Amber knew that the numbers didn’t matter—not tonight. The victory had happened long before the judges held up their paddles. It had happened the moment she decided to dance anyway. The moment she refused to let cruelty steal her joy. The moment she allowed herself to feel deeply while still moving forward. These were the kinds of emotional victories that linger long after the season ends.

After the show, messages flooded in. But this time, the tone was different. People wrote not only to praise her dance but to thank her—for being vulnerable, for being strong, for speaking out about pain so many understood. Mothers said they watched with tears in their eyes, seeing their own daughters’ struggles reflected in Amber’s journey. Young performers wrote about feeling inspired to keep pursuing their dreams despite fear of judgment. Even individuals who had never watched Strictly before wrote messages saying that this emotional storyline had drawn them in. Amber read the messages slowly, letting each kind word wash over the raw places inside her chest. Healing comes in waves; this wave, for the first time in weeks, felt warm.

Motsi, too, received messages—thousands of them. From performers, from parents, from people who had experienced bullying, from people who simply admired her courage. They thanked her for using her voice not to entertain but to advocate. For choosing empathy over silence. For proving that judges are not merely critics but guides. Her presence on the panel had always been powerful, but now it carried a new dimension—one woven with emotional responsibility. She had become a reminder that authority figures can be compassionate, that strength is not incompatible with softness, and that influence carries an obligation to protect.

Amber returned to rehearsals on Monday feeling lighter, though not entirely healed. Healing from emotional harm is not linear; it happens in spirals, with steps forward and steps back. But she felt a renewed sense of purpose. The trolling had not defeated her—it had awakened a deeper resilience within her. She approached her next routine with a calmer heart, knowing that she was no longer dancing alone. She carried with her the support of strangers, the pride of her family, the trust of her partner, and the unwavering solidarity of Motsi.

As days turned into weeks, Amber began to understand the greater meaning of what she had endured. Her emotional wounds had forced her to confront questions she had long avoided: What did she want to represent? What kind of performer did she want to become? What kind of person? Slowly, she realized that her journey on Strictly was no longer just about dancing—it was about reclaiming her voice. It was about learning to separate her worth from the opinions of others. It was about choosing joy in a world that sometimes tries to steal it.

Motsi watched this evolution proudly, seeing in Amber a reflection of so many dancers she had mentored through her career. The ones who grew not only in skill but in confidence, in voice, in self-awareness. She understood better than most that dance is never just movement—it is a mirror of the soul. And Amber’s soul, shaken though it had been, was finding its footing again.

The public, too, began to see Amber differently. She was no longer just a former Love Island star, no longer a contestant attempting to prove herself. She became a symbol of emotional endurance, of grace under fire, of vulnerability transformed into strength. Her story became a reminder that even those who seem to shine effortlessly often carry unseen battles. Trolls could not dim that kind of authenticity. In fact, their cruelty only highlighted the necessity of compassion.

As the season progressed, fewer trolls appeared. Their voices grew quieter, drowned out by the overwhelming kindness that had emerged. Compassion had become louder than cruelty, empathy louder than judgment. And Amber, once bruised by the weight of negativity, now danced with the freedom of someone who knew she was supported. The transformation was visible in her posture, her smile, her confidence, her presence on stage. She was not merely surviving anymore—she was thriving.

Motsi’s decision to speak out had become the emotional catalyst for this shift. Her intervention changed not only the narrative but the atmosphere surrounding the show. It reminded viewers that Strictly is more than a competition—it is a community. A place where people come together to celebrate humanity, not tear it down. And Amber’s resilience became the heartbeat of that community, reminding everyone that joy is worth fighting for.

In the final weeks of the show, Amber danced with a freedom that felt almost spiritual. She no longer worried about perfection. She danced for the little girl inside her who once dreamed of performing on stage. She danced for the young woman who had endured harsh judgment in the public eye. She danced for the countless others who felt small beneath the weight of criticism. Most importantly, she danced for herself.

The emotional journey reached its quiet climax the night of her final performance. Standing on the floor, waiting for the music to begin, Amber felt a stillness wash over her. Not the stillness of fear, but the stillness of acceptance. She had already won—not the competition, but her own heart back. She had proven to herself that no amount of cruelty could steal her love for dance. She had reclaimed her story.

And as she executed her final movement, the audience erupted in applause—not for the technique, but for the emotion. For the courage. For the journey.

Motsi’s final words to Amber that night were simple, heartfelt, and unforgettable: “You kept dancing. That is the victory.”

Because in the end, this was never just about trolls. It was about resilience. It was about love. It was about the emotional truth that when someone chooses to keep moving forward despite the weight on their shoulders, they become more than a contestant—
they become a light.