Bull Nakano

Here we have a woman who was as stylish in the ring as she was tough. With hair that stands almost as tall as I am, that also barely moves, and the most electifying shade of blue lipstick that would make David Bowie proud, she brought a unique and terrifying brand of beauty to women’s pro wrestling. Bull Nakano started wrestling in AJW at the age of 15, and over time has competed in multiple promotions including CMLL, WWF and WCW. Winning her first title Bull was a trailblazer of sorts, and was CMLL’s first ever World Women’s Champion. Her strongest matches were primarily tag matches alongside Dump Matsumoto, and she has held the WWWA World Tag Team Championship on three separate occassions.

This isn’t to say that she’s not a raging monster in the ring when she’s by herself. When she regained the WWWA World Heavyweight Championship title in a Japan Grand Prix tournament, she remained the title holder for just shy of three consecutive years before dropping the belt to Aja Kong.

Bull is my ideal type of wrestler: she’s slow, strong, throws her weight around and doesn’t give two shits about you or how hard you’re going to go down to that mat. No stranger to technique, she uses a lot of brute force moves to exert dominance over her opponent. My personal favourites are when she utilizes the Moolah Whip landing her opponent flat on their face across the ring, or the ever so arrogant standing on someone’s chest when they’re down for a pin. What’s even more impressive is Bull’s ability to be perceived as a tough, unbreakable monster even when she loses a match.

If she hasn’t scorpion crosslocked her way into your heart just yet, then check out this Joshi match on a SUBWAY TRAIN between her and Yumi Fukawa:

As for a suggestion on what else to watch? I’ve yet to be let down by any match of hers, so internet search to your heart’s content. (But don’t just stick to the WWE).

Faby Apache vs Sexy Star | Hair vs Mask

Art by Isz Janeway

We begin with a mantra of late 00’s message boards: In Canada it’s a tradition, in Mexico it’s a religion, in Japan it’s a sport. This sussing of sour grapes plants the evidence of wrestling’s murder on Mr. McMahon (“In America, it’s a joke). He was working alone that night, on the grassy Illuminati bunker, ruining wrestling. The homophobia, the sexism, the greed of the old guard–all these red herrings will make a damn fine fish fry when all this is over.

To label lucha libre as “mexican professional wrestling” might be unconscionably obtuse–it’s an indelible inclination of Mexican culture. Out of the ring, luchadores appear, as themselves, in comic books and monster movies. They advocate for nature conservation and human rights. They are living mythos. The masks that have epitomized the culture, domestically and abroad, safeguard the sanctity of a people’s wonder.

To be unmasked is to be jarred back into mortality, like the clipping of angel wings. El Santo revealed only part of his face to the public, once–he died a week later.

This guardianship remains today, long after the fall of kayfabe. It is less rigid in its discipline–everyone has a phone now, and google is eager to autocomplete any search for a luchador/a with “sin mascara”. It is custom for an unmasked wrestler to reveal their real name, hometown, and how long they’ve been wrestling; Wikipedia gives you all of this with a click of a “Random Article”.

Since her match with Faby Apache, Sexy Star has been willingly photographed without her mask–goddesses can assume mortal form at no cost to them. It’s the act of having that form made manifest through defeat that maroons them with mortals.

Since Samson’s slumber, mortals have removed each other’s hair as a tool of shame, revenge, and assertion of worthlessness. The shaving of an Army recruit’s head strips them of their personhood–they are now slaves of the State. After liberation, the women of Nazi-occupied towns and villages who had “corroborated” would be marched into public view and have their heads shaved.

So much of ourselves is codified in our hair. When MRAs jerk their circles over women with colored hair, they are decrying an abundance of personality they cannot confine to their expectations and pleasures.

Hair vs Mask

The first Lucha de Apuestas–”a match with wagers”–was in 1940. The masked Murciélago insisted, to counter somewhat the unfairness of wrestling someone much larger than him, that the challenger for his championship, the unmasked Octavio Gaona, put his hair on the line.

To quote Shawn Michaels (and hate myself for it), the challenger of a title has, traditionally nothing to lose and everything to gain. While it’s not uncommon for a de-crowned champion to take time off from television, a contender who fails to secure the championship rarely faces any serious immediate consequence. Roman Reigns won’t be wrestling on the pre-show–not right away, at least.

The original apuesta provided a consequence for failure in the main event; it has come in time to be a means of putting rivalries to bed.

First, Sexy Star took Faby Apache’s husband. Then, her AAA Reina de Reinas championship.

In 2009, at Guerra de Titanes, she would claim that final vestige of Faby’s status: her hair.

Family vs Fame

Faby Apache does not merely come from a wrestling family; her career and identity are defined by her struggles to exist within the confines of good daughter and loyal sister. The Apache family have stretched the ol’ “my dad doesn’t like the father of my child” routine out for years of storyline.

To not dismiss the issue of race: the Apache family are dark-skinned indigenous descendants. Sexy Star and the other women of La Legion Extranjera (“The Foreign Legion”, a rotating roster of hired invaders who make trouble for AAA) are either white or light-skinned Mexican. They twirl at ringside, petting the chin of the referee with fishnet gloves, as Faby, clad to honor her indigenous heritage, suffers potshots and slow counts to a chorus of blonde giggles.

In the year following this match, Sexy Star, the only Mexican luchadora in LLE, would claim the Apaches were nothing but maids, proudly mirroring the ugly prejudice and systemic violence sustained against women like Faby, at home and abroad.

It’s likely Sexy is mayhaps motivated not only out of smugness, but from a genuine conviction that Faby and the Apache family are lesser people.

The title would not be enough for this match.

Emotion vs Skill

When the first “Legends of Wrestling” video game came out, critics in the know lamented that you couldn’t quantify what made the slower, brawly style of the 70’s and 80’s into compelling gameplay. Older wrestling relied on tension, banking on the raw emotion of wrestlers to evoke enticement from the audience.

From a technical standpoint, Hulk Hogan vs Andre The Giant at WrestleMania 3 is a no-selling prima donna running circles around a disabled veteran nearing the end of his life. You could get better fundamentals having Jim Cornette try to put his own tennis racket in a spinebuster. It cinched the (however dubious) honor of being the lynchpin of WWF’s rise to the mainstream for the psychology and narrative; the unstoppable force overcomes the immovable object.

This match wouldn’t wile its any into either wrestler’s highlight reels. It’s a largely kick, choke, pull the hair affair. The narrative in place doesn’t require a flourish of skill. This isn’t about who’s the best–Sexy Star has already taken everything else from Faby, and needs not the affirmation of her skill.

This is about kicking Faby while she’s down, and hard enough that the referee has to check Faby isn’t concussed on more than one occasion.

Sometimes it’s about working smarter, not harder: the close-ups of Faby’s clearly dazed, fatigued face suffices where others would think to put some goofy fucking weapon up on a pole or some such bullshit.

The crowd percolates steadily–there are no “spots”. There is no heat. They clatter and erupt at Billy Boy grabbing Faby’s hair from the outside, at Sexy choking her in the ropes, at the arrival of Jennifer Blade and Rain to Sexy’s corner mid-match.

The math: Sexy has the belt. She’s joined La Legion. Billy Boy’s marriage to Faby and the resulting turmoil with the Apache family has, to date, landed him in a mental institution, kicked out of his own stable, and cost him his hair after he was pinned by Faby in a lucha de apuestas, following a heel turn spurned by Faby slapping him because she was upset she lost a match. Faby Apache has, despite her earnest character, done a lot of damage to someone she once claimed to love, the payment of which has been overly delayed.

She has no chance in winning the match. The audience bristles not at Sexy’s fortunes but at her underhandedness.

Faby vs The World

This match followed Vince McMahon’s playbook down an alley and ran off with its wallet.

Faby fends off flurries of kicks to the face from the woman who took her title and her husband, who himself keeps jumping into the ring to attack her.

La Legion is at ringside–what has she even done to piss off all these people? Is it because she’s an Apache? Is it what she represents? Do they just hate goodness? Why are all these women out to get her?

And then oh fuck: she bumps the ref.

The arrival of El Hijo del Tirantes, AAA’s rudo referee, puts the lingering doubt out of its misery.

From here it’s all cocktease. El Hijo del Tirantes flirts with Jennifer and Rain to excuse himself from counting Faby’s cover on Sexy. Faby’s punch drunk frustration becomes searing desperation, fermenting into anger. This match is a nail that traces the collarbone before going in for the stranglehold. It’s a drawn out parade of shame, population: 1.

The audience seems to gradually accept this fate–American audiences make camp on the edges of their seats because they’ve become spoiled by brutally contrived solutions to the esoteric and unsolvable. Steve Austin just knocks out the stooge referee, counts his own three with the limp hand, and then beats up the timekeeper until he rings the bell to acknowledge his win.

El Hijo del Tirantes watches Rain run in to push Sexy out of Faby’s hanging vertical suplex, and then fast counts Sexy’s roll-up into a three.

Even the crowd has turned on Faby Apache, popping for Sexy’s win–from the beginning, really, they were promised a head-shaving. And here comes the sun.

Or so they thought.

Fairness vs Honor

Faby doesn’t lose her hair. Gran Apache comes out, pushes Billy Boy around–because I guess he can’t turn rudo on your family for the same reason twice–and clips a couple of locks from her admittedly gorgeous earth-tone mane before she hulks out and, breaks free from the bounds of honor and charges at Sexy Star.

The crowd’s upheaval at this is as loud as it is ambiguous–are they cheering because Faby got her heat back, or because they’ve been denied the opportunity to see a woman ritualistically stripped of her beauty and dignity? Have even the crowd turned rudo/ruda on Faby Apache, or are they outraged at besmirched tradition?

Randy Savage loses a retirement match against Ultimate Warrior at WrestleMania 7–he’s the fucking World Champion by WrestleMania 8. Ric Flair loses a career match against Shawn Michaels and just goes to another company. Nobody cares. Most modern American fans don’t even know what a tag rope is or what it does.

Faby does not return to the ring to have her head shaved. Nor does she visit a barber. And the internet will not ever, ever let you forget this. Every article about this match, every wiki notation, and like 1 out of every 2 or 3 YouTube comments makes mention of Faby skipping out on the stipulation. Some writers have even gone as far as to accuse her of fraud. Not AAA. Not Gran Apache, who didn’t even try to finish the haircut, but Faby specifically.

The misogyny and classism/racism that might be perpetuating this anger aside: American wrestling fans never stop to consider that maybe American wrestling is a joke because they are so tolerant of non-committal booking.

Faby Apache’s appeal was so agreed upon that after she won the Reina de Reinas annual tournament, they just made it into a title for her to defend. Then they cheered for her to lose her hair and complained, loudly, when it wasn’t delivered.

This begs the question: who are the participants of these rituals beholden to? The legacy of all the men and women who came before and sacrificed their cultural immortality and aesthetic individuality for the sake of “making it real”? The wrestling community at large? The audience?

If Faby Apache says she’ll cut her hair if she loses, and AAA doesn’t hold her to it, what claim do we as the consumers have to compel her to be shorn?

Once we’re finished discussing how ridiculous Undertaker vs Bray Wyatt in broad daylight was, can we move onto this?

Another inquiry I beseech: Jesus Christ, what the fuck with all this racism? A year later, Mari Apache is forced to serve as a maid for La Legion Extranjera after she, Faby Apache, and Cintia Morena lose a “winners get a personal slave” trios match against Sexy Star, Jennifer Blade, and Rain. And yes, they make her clean up their locker room, on TV, right after the match.

It’s not just me, right? First, Sexy Star says “the Apaches were meant to be maids” at Rey de Reyes,  and then you have a match at TripleMania, three months later , that forces one of the Apaches has to serve as a maid. Doesn’t that sound like a societal fantasy fulfillment to anyone else?

Mt. Fiji

Just as she would rap in her intro, with us on her side she’ll never lose; and she never did. Throughout her stint with GLOW: Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling Mt. Fiji never lost a match, and it would be a big deal if someone were to knock this gentle giant off her feet.

Fiji is one of the greatest babyfaces that women’s pro wrestling has ever seen. Normally, the larger you are, the more likely you are to be billed as a monster among women, but she was beloved by all without having to sacrifice her brute and vicious strength. Her fellow GLOW Good Girls respected and adored her and her opposing GLOW Bad Girls feared her and sought out the challenge to be the one to knock her down.  One of her signature moves is an avalanche which involves crushing her opponent in the corner right up against the turnbuckle. Relying on that, body slams, clotheslines and other maneuvers where she didn’t need to move much, it was extremely difficult to take her out. As mentioned before, Fiji never lost a match, but has eliminated herself in Battle Royals to tend to injured friends.

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As a promotion, GLOW was no stranger to being extremely politically incorrect and relied heavily on racist and sexist tropes in order to push the envelope. Bearing that in mind, Fiji’s character remained genuine and never truly seemed to cross that line. I can’t, however, take into account anything the announcer would spout, and am basing this solely off how she presents herself in ring and in sketches. Fiji is a Samoan American and very obviously proud of her heritage, she would flaunt this in character and that was never presented as the butt of the joke.

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Unfortunately, her luck in being able to thwart racism in her career did not translate to life outside the GLOW house. Nearing the end of the show’s run, Fiji and her family were involved in an incident of extreme police brutality which was seen to be racist in nature that took place at a bridal shower. In response to a noise complaint, the LA Country Sheriff’s department descended upon their home in full riot gear and proceeded to beat members of the family with billy clubs. Fiji stood strong in effort to protect others who were there and prevent them from being on the receiving end of such treatment.

Wrestling quickly became Fiji’s passion and it could be seen throughout the entire run of GLOW. Fiji did have some wrestling related appearances on TV and in film near the end of the show, her final appearance being in Pauly Shore’s Son In Law. Sadly, after GLOW ended Fiji had to stop wrestling. Currently she resides in a nursing home due to illnesses and knee issues, but is still keepin’ on.

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Back to Mt. Fiji’s wrestling prowess, a really interesting fact is that she was often billed in handicap matches where it would be two against one.

Vivian Vachon

One might see the (American) wrestling industry’s tip-toeing around the word “wrestler” when discussing women as indication that the Bellas are pioneers, that women grapplers are just a bit green of a concept, and that WWE and TNA are working their way up to calling them wrestlers, much like you or I might work up to calling mom’s new husband “Dad” once he’s proven himself not a chump.

Before Ric Flair ever strutted his way to a main event melee, Mildred Burke wrestled men at carnivals and held a world title for almost twenty years. 12 years before the first King of the Ring, there was already a wrestling queen: Vivian Vachon.

There’s one (or more) in every family–Mike von Erich, Reid Flair, LA Smooth–wrestling has relied on family dynasties to fluff their numbers and normalize the hazard-riddled lifestyle that comes with the job. But wrestling is not known for it’s ability to 1) care for their own or 2) encourage people to share when playing. A lot of potential succumbs to the crucible of ego, politics, and addiction that comes with your dinner in a wrestling house.

Vivian is the Marilyn Munster of her family of sideshow personalities. A Mad Dog and Butcher for brothers, Luna for a niece–it’s not a lack of talent that keeps her quarried to shadow, or a lack of menace. When the golden-haired muscle muse disrobed her rainbow ring robe, she would stomp your head in with the tell-tale glib sadism that is her family’s trademark.

Wrestling in the 70’s was rougher around the edges–technical pizazz took second chair to just making it look real, and like it hurt. Today a standing leglock is recognized as a rest hold, but before “sports entertainment” gave the wink on whether or not wrestling was staged, a standing leglock could end matches, and kicking someone in the face to break out of one was more than a leadup to another “spot”.

Hair pulling was practically ingrained in the training of women’s wrestlers. Wanna know who Fabulous Moolah trained? See how often they go for the hair.

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Accomplished singer (yes, it still counts if it’s in French) and former model–it’s not stretch to suggest Vivian Vachon could have had a film career beyond the documentary. She had the effervescent girl next door elan that Americans make themselves sick on. We could have had the female response to Hulk Hogan a decade before anyone gave a fuck who that guy was.

Actually: she’d won the AWA’s Women’s Championship a full decade before Hogan would flounce out of AWA over their unwillingness to take the belt of Bockwinkel and put it on him. Had Hogan stayed to “tough it out” in AWA, HulkaMania may have never happened. Who knows if there’d have been another wrestler to take his place in leading the charge of wrestling into pop culture.

In an alternate universe, Vivian Vachon became a movie star and Hulk Hogan tried to no-sell Bruiser Brody and got hit with the whole bag of potatoes, simmering his star before it ever launched.

When WWE and TNA dance around the word “wrestler”, they discredit the decades of work men and women put to lay foundation for their mainstream appeal.

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They do a great disservice to their queen.

Rousey + Rock: Represent + Repulse

It seems that the WWE is on the path to try to win the “put the most oppressive people on a pedestal in the shortest period of time” award, and for some reason the mass market doesn’t seem to notice or care. Right now I’m going to be touting a seemingly unpopular opinion, and normally I wouldn’t mind, but this is a huge issue: Ronda Rousey’s cameo was by far the worst part of Wrestlemania 31. “But Rousey’s a tough woman who knows how to fight!”, I can hear you all screeching at me. Don’t you worry your pretty little heads, you’ll come to understand soon.

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Let’s rundown what happened on this weekend’s PPV, okay? We learned that it was the night of the irrelevant celebrity, and even made a little bit of a drinking game out of it for our Burning Brawls segment, so cue The Rock showing up even though he isn’t on the card. I can smell his personal brand of home cooked bullshit from a mile away, but against my better judgement I leaned in and listened to what he had to hear. In what was surely turning into Staring Contest: The Match between Steph McMahon, HHH and The Rock, we got glimmering moments in which someone would speak and maybe even fight. Except, to no one’s surprise, we got a whole boat load of misogyny from The Rock himself. Steph’s entire legacy is built on that of Mr. McMahon’s johnson, an image that we all definitely needed planted in front of us. This won’t make Steph back down, she can cut through you with a glare, and that’s a talent that I admire. The Rock reminds all of us that he can’t hit a girl, I think it’s because he’s afraid of Steph, but it’s more likely that he’s a misogynist and believes he has an unfair advantage due to his being assigned male at birth. So, bye bye, Rock.

Wow, what a pointless promo that lasted twice of what the Divas division got for an entire tag match. But wait, there’s a very angry looking woman glaring at him from the front row. I get momentarily excited until I realize it’s fellow transphobe Ronda Rousey. If you don’t remember, earlier this week I weighed in on The Rock’s casual use of transphobic slurs, so I’ll just skip over that bit and focus on the current issue at hand. Ronda is invited to the ring, at his side, to join in the stare down to end all stare downs, before she puts Steph into a pretty nasty looking arm bar and then takes down HHH.

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Here’s where it gets difficult to remain impartial. I get it, I’m genuinely impressed that the WWE no doubt attempted to do something right in the name of entertainment. Someone at some level is obviously up to speed in what’s what and who’s who in popular culture and they managed to book someone who is currently relevant in the world of sports entertainment. This is following them having let #DadFight take the stage and show us what old broken down wrestlers who no longer have that it factor look like for more than 30 seconds. They also convinced the WWE to let a woman who isn’t a valet, or related to someone important within the company, step into the ring and have lengthy airtime. And lastly, HHH agreed to take a bump from a woman. (Yes, I’m fully aware he took one from Brie last year.) These are all extremely impressive and I’ll give them their props… but I’m taking them away since they massively fucked it up. Intention isn’t magic, and I know you tried but trying doesn’t always give you a passing grade. And, Ronda Rousey, I’m here to tell you that neither does being a cis white woman.

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This tough little number who just took down HHH is the same woman who won’t pipe down about how it’s unfair for fellow MMA fighter, Fallon Fox, to fight in the women’s division. Her reasoning is because Fallon has made the choice to be a trans woman. You read that correctly. In the expert scientific opinion of Ronda (I hope you can smell my sarcasm), Fallon has made the decision to be trans and therefore shouldn’t be allowed to fight women who have had the fortune of being assigned female at birth. This does not apply, however, to intersex folk because they don’t have control over how they went through puberty. Ronda, among other medical experts such as Joe Rogan, tout statements such as “She can try hormones, chop her pecker off, but it’s still the same bone structure a man has”  as their main talking point in the advantage that Fallon has over the cis women within the UFC. All of this, but she has no issue judo throwing HHH. Because, even if it isn’t about her ability to fight Fallon, it would give the wrong social message.

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WWE, you’re continuing to give me the wrong social message as a queer “fan”, and I use that term loosely. It’s obvious that despite your campaigns and your pleas that we’re not welcome here. The internet’s been all a twitter about the idea of Ronda making yet another appearance on your show, which you entertained on last night’s RAW commentary, and the only acceptable appearance she should make is one where her and Brock Lesnar have a match to the death, and the other one implodes after their success of destroying on of their own kind. My universe, and that of the WWE, will be a much happier place once this comes to fruition. Until you’re ready to reach that point, keep Brock on his kayfabe suspension, and the only garbage people I want to see on screen from this point forward are the following:

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Fan Edition | Shield Devotee

In this week’s fan edition of “Who’s That Girl” we are speaking with this lovely cat from Nashville that I, AV Christensen, met during a trip I took down there in the winter. She was my Lyft driver and got really excited when she saw my profile photo was me executing a flawless Boston Cream finisher and asked if I was truly “a bad ass lady wrestler”.

Let’s check in with Audrey and her obvious obsession with a certain faction within the dubya dubya eeee.

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Name: Audrey Killawatts (a.k.a Khaos Reigns)

Age: 21

Location: Nashville, TN

Describe your ringside style: Chaotic Neutral

How did you become a wrestling fan? My best friend introduced me.

Fave Wrestler: A toss up between Dean Ambrose and Dolph Ziggler.

Fave Promo Cut: That’s a tough one, I really loved Dean’s “Ice Bucket Challenge” on Rollins.

Fave Move: Scorpion Crosslock

Fave Match: Um, dude, I have no idea, there are seriously too many. But Rollins v Ambrose early on in the break up of the shield. Ambrose looked so torn over having to take out Rollins. Brilliant.

Dream Tag Team: I miss the Shield…

If you had to choose your own entrance theme, what would it be?

Huge thanks to Audrey for taking part! Can’t follow her on social media since she’s not a twitter gal. But if you’re ever in Nashville she’ll cut your hair, or maybe drive you around if you order something on Lyft!

Women Naturally Hate Each Other, and WWE is Naturally Wrong

Guest post by: D. O’Brien of The Stretch Plum


Last night, like about a billion other people, I tuned in to watch WrestleMania 31, which was a much better show than I was expecting if I’m going to be honest, but one thing really bugged me – and no, it’s not the fact that Lana threw her shoe for apparently zero reason, though those ARE expensive shoes, so girl, what are you thinking?

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No, the thing that sticks in my craw about last night was the commentary team stating on live television before a match involving four women that “women naturally hate each other”, so obviously, they’re going to wrestle about it, right?

WWE is doing themselves a huge disservice perpetuating this bullshit and it’s not just because WWE is a company supporting a costly anti-bullying initiative, which is in and of itself a problem since they’re doing a bang-up job having one sister tell another she wishes she had died in the womb, or having those same sisters steal another woman’s clothes, or having their main female babyface tell other women they don’t look like “real women”; WWE also wants us to Give Divas A Chance and ran a Fight Like A Girl ad, and yet here’s a table full of men saying women naturally hate each other – but does the company even realize they made liars of themselves just as recently as the Hall of Fame induction ceremony for 2015?

Alundra Blayze was inducted by Natalya Neidhart-Kidd, and far from any hatred there everything I saw of the two ladies on-screen and off indicated a great mutual respect and even love for one another. Is that natural hate? Nattie and Naomi took part in the four-way tag match at WrestleMania, albeit in more managerial roles, and yes, they did fight one another at one point but NOT out of any outward obvious hate, but more as competitors watching their respective teams’ backs.

Looking at NXT, which is part of WWE no matter how weird that seems at times, you have more than a handful of beautiful, capable women whose competitiveness is not driven by hate, but sheerly by that: they are, first and foremost, competitors who happen to be women. This isn’t high school and no one, in the year of our lord 2015, should be handing a bunch of little girls the outdated notion that all women are our enemy and we should be doing our best to hate them.

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AJ and Paige, the ever-so-cutely (barf) named “Frenemies” (because I can’t be your friend unless I secretly want to destroy you, right ladies?), won their match last night against the Bellas and left the arena as a team, which kinda downplays the idea that women naturally hate each other – I’m not going to team with you if I hate you. That defies the very nature of the word. Please stop being difficult, WWE. Put women on commentary if you can’t figure out how a decent female dynamic is supposed to work.

WWE is really shooting themselves in the foot if they’re going to have tag teams of women based solely on blood or general dislike for other women. Because let’s think about this: you could have AJ and Paige teaming NOT because they dislike the Bellas, but because they’re both damn fine wrestlers in their own right and they want to wrestle other women who are. Like Nattie and Naomi, who could make a tag team work because WWE insists on overshadowing their gender because their husbands are on popular tag teams. Or have Lana stop being Rusev’s interpreter/morality chain and let HER have some singles matches. WWE has the resources, they just need to quit undervaluing them.

I know no one from upper management at a billion-dollar wrestling company is going to care what a woman says, but WWE, please. Come on. More than ever, women need to see positivity in every field. Your product reaches all over the world, including countries where women are abused and killed simply for being women. Why can’t you opt out of the convenient rhetoric and misconceptions about women and just give us a good healthy dose of solidarity and support?

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Is it really so hard to manage that in this day and age? Because as of right now, the only thing I can say I “naturally hate” is the fact that you insist on marketing women as eternal enemies.

Steven Universe “Tiger Millionaire”

If I were to tell you that one of my passions was watching television, especially kids’ shows, you’d probably be none too surprised. Most of us have been introduced to the wonderful world of wrestling through watching it on TV at home. My first wrestling match was a PPV that I watched with my dad while eating off brand chicken nuggets and barbecue sauce in his basement apartment. It doesn’t quite compare to seeing it live, but it still has it’s own unique magic to it that many other sporting events can’t compare to over a television broadcast. Another layer of the wrestling world that I love is that which is portrayed within the confines or non sports entertainment related programming. From cartoons that have the characters portraying their own crafted wrestling personas, to in ring wrestler cameos on beloved sitcoms, reality competitions with a pro graps themed challenge, I’m going to be reviewing episodes and determining whether or not they’re title worthy or if they’re no selling jobbers.

Cartoon Network show Steven Universe has been getting a lot of attention and love lately for all the right reasons, and I’m going to continue that love by highlighting one of it’s earliest episodes: Tiger Millionaire. Having returned from a mission in which Steven gets covered in blood polyps due to Amethyst’s recklessness, the gems all get into an argument and Steven ends up falling asleep encrusted by the polyps in the kitchen alone. Amethyst sneaks out of her room to sneak off into the middle of the night and Steven follows hot on her trail.

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Secret Wrestlers

Cut to the Beach City Underground wrestling promotion, The Purple Puma is introduced as the single most hated wrestler in the promotin’s history. Proving to be a force to be reckoned with in ring, Puma defeats the Lochness Blogster with ease. Amethyst leaves the event extra charged and excited when Steven sneaks up behind her and she gives him a snapmare down to the ground. Steven asks if Amethyst is a secret wrestler with the same expression of joy I receive in response to whenever I reveal to anyone I meet that I’m part of a queer women’s wrestling league. If only we could all be secret wrestlers. Amythest’s explanation as to why she’s a wrestler accurately captures part of the beauty of the art: “In the ring, nobody can tell me what to do, and if they try I hit ‘em in the face with a chair!” Maybe I identify well with this storyline because she plays a vicious heel, and well, but it’s even expressed that: “They love it, well, they hate it but it’s all part of the fun, you know. Everyone here gets that.” Feeling babied by Pearl and Garnet is an excellent excuse to give her this outlet to express herself, and Steven, feeling stifled himself, asks to be a wrestler too. Since Amythest has yet to win the tag team belt, the most superior belt of them all, she obliges his request.

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Introducing: Tiger Millionaire!

Steven heads off to prepare for one of the most important parts of pro wrestling: developing your character and choosing your costume. What good is fighting in front of a crowd if you can’t look awesome doing it? He pulls out a dress shirt, some suspenders and ponders over a tiger mask and a little tiny tiger nose before choosing the nose. To get that sleaze factor that all wrestlers need, Steven slicks his hair down with margarine before rushing over to a sleeping Amethyst to show off his new kicks. His back story is meticulously thought out:

Rich feline industrialist from Jungle Island. Once the single child of the wealthy Tiger family, he clawed out his own destiny making money in the coconut mines.

The Purple Puma’s backstory, however, is solely: Pumas are cool.

Back at Beach City Underground we meet the first tag team of the evening: Concrete Heat and Chunk Truck! The crowd meets, and boos, Tiger Millionaire and we see Lars and Sadie speculating on whether or not Tiger Millionaire is Steven and if it’s going to get creamed or not. Before Steven can climb in the ring, Amethyst stops him to alert him that she’s only using Steven to obtain the belt and she’ll do all the fighting. His biggest concern is whether or not he still gets to wear the costume. Puma knocks out Chunk Truck with ease, but Concrete Heat comes in from behind and slams a pylon on his head. Steven expresses with great upset that “That’s not fair!” and the announcer assures him that “It may not seem fair, but hey, anything goes in wrestling.”

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The Heel Turn

Being the sweet kid he is, no one expected to see Steven play a heel, but he takes this opportunity to bribe Chunk Truck into throwing the match in exchange for a million jungle bucks. What an offer! Excitedly ready to take the offer, he rushes over and Tiger Millionaire opens the briefcase in his face knocking him back. Lars jumps up excitedly, and it looks like our contender has his first fan. Puma knocks out Chunk Truck and lifts Tiger up in celebration for having won the match.

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What would a wrestling show be without your obligatory 80s montage? This features cuts of Tiger Millionaire’s most gruesome feats interspliced with shots of Steven and Amethyst trying to keep their wrestling careers a secret from Garnet and Pearl. Ignoring a match while talking on an a cellphone larger than he is, serving coconuts into an opponent’s jaw with a tennis racket, tossing pages of the Wall Street Jungle down on the mat making the opposition slip and fall are among some of Steven’s most menacing moves. But nothing compares to when record breaking heat comes down on the auditorium and Tiger Millionaire buys out the entire soda stand, and instead of sharing it with his thirsty fans he throws all the soda down on the ground and stomps in the puddle with galoshes. Wanting to maintain kayfabe, when approached by Lars to sign his soda cup, Tiger swats it out of the way onto the ground shouting “you couldn’t afford it!” Lars tosses his Tiger Millionaire tie on the ground and sulks away, because Tiger truly is the cruelest creature on the planet.

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Can’t we just wrestle?

Steven has a hard time separating his wrestling persona from real life and how he is perceived. Puma and Tiger are paired up against a gorgeous, hyper masculine tag team duo. The crowd has turned completely against Tiger, including prior fan Lars toting a “Tiger is a jerk!” sign. Garnet and Pearl show up to stop the match, upset that Steven and Amethyst have been sneaking off to this circus of violence. It’s the final straw when Garnet tells them to go home, Amythest pushes her and they have a violent brawl utilizing their powers. Steven attempts to calm things down and make a genuine face turn for the betterment of everyone involved. He picks up the mic to tell us Purple Puma’s backstory:

He was the wildest cat in the jungle, so wild the other cats couldn’t take it. So she, I mean he, went to look for somewhere he fit in, somewhere with other people who felt misunderstood. That’s why we’re all here: to be wild and free, and bodyslam each other, and wear cool costumes, and make up nicknames!

The most important question levied by Tiger is “Can’t we just have this? Can’t we just wrestle?” Taking that sweet, sweet heel spot Garnet steps in to reveal she is part of the Notorious Order of Wrestling Haters and they can’t allow that. This gets the crowd on the side of the Jungle Duo, including the sour Lars. But wait, The Good Looking Gang show up with the ladder, are they going to steal the belts? No! They help the Jungle Duo up and help save wrestling.

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On a list of shows that portray wrasslin’, this one is definitely of main event quality. Heck, they could do an entire spin off series about Tiger Millionaire and The Purple Puma and I’d buy it.

Fan Edition | Grapple Kitty

Each week, we aim to highlight some of the best women in wrestling and that includes the fans too.

Kicking off the Fan Edition of “Who’s That Girl?” is @grapplekitty

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Name: Kitty

Age: 25

Location: New York City

Describe your ringside style: Colourful, casual, and comfortable. I rarely wear t-shirts in public, as I am more of a blouse and sweater person. I actually wore a floral blouse to a wrestling show in 2012. I own only three wrestling related shirts. I just ruined my Sami Zayn shirt, and my other shirt is promotion-specific, so this was my only option for the last wrestling show I attended.

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How did you become a wrestling fan?: I grew up watching wrestling, specifically WWE, with my dad. I think I started watching regularly in 1999, with my favourites being Kane, Chris Jericho and the Hardy Boyz. I began seeking out independent and international wrestling in 2011.

Fave Wrestler: Sami Zayn

Fave Promotion: PWG

Fave Move: Chaos Theory

Fave Match: ever? That’s really hard. I think it’s Edge and Christian vs the Hardy Boyz in a ladder match at No Mercy 1999, just because I’ve seen it so many times.

Dream Tag Team: Sasha Banks and Bull Nakano. They’ll look amazing while smashing faces in.
If you had to choose your own entrance theme, what would it be?
Something goofy. Probably the Miley Cyrus/Notorious B.I.G mashup, Party and Bullshit in the USA.

If you’d like to be featured in our fan edition, please email us (femmezuigiri@gmail.com) with 1 or 2 photos of you to be included in the article and we’ll send over a short questionnaire! It doesn’t have to be wrestling tees, it’s whatever you love to wear to shows!

League of Lady Wrestlers | Island Rumble

The kick ass League of Lady Wrestlers hosted their first ever ISLAND RUMBLE at Artscape Gibraltar Point on Toronto Island September 6th, 2014. Analog Preservation Network was there to capture some of the footage on glorious VHS. Here’s a quick overview of the nights events.

Watch Kitty Stardust and Cuntzilla go at it.

Whipper Cream runs her mouth like a winner while her client, Great White Snatch, does her thing against the tough Ladyboy.

See Sweetie snatch her victory over league leader Big Jody Mufferaw.

And Doughnut Messaround cuts a really messy, sweaty promo on Mumu Dairy Air at the end of the night after tearing down the ring.

Slam Dunk

Character is collaborative. You can write every intended spoken line and weeks worth of kayfabe tweets, but you can’t move their mouths or blink their pretty eyes for them. At some point, the wrestler enacts agency.

David McLane’s women-based wrestling promotions GLOW and Women of Wrestling were plagued with setbacks by the bucketful, the least of which was a racist run rampant, practically sprinting.

It’s easy, or rather it has been societally programmed as such, to look at women of color playing out race-baiting pantomimes and fall back on the either/or: they must have full agency over their decision to take the part, or they lack all agency in their participation. The truth is stuck in the mud along the border of the rival states. There is room for enjoyment, satisfaction, coercion, and frustration, for working with the system and being exploited by it, simultaneously–the scenario is universal, but the reaction is case by case.

All this to say that WoW’s Slam Dunk made the most out of a preposterly offensive gimmick. She was set up as a (then) heel inversion of Mt. Fiji–the giant undefeated woman. Supposedly banned from the WNBA for being too violent, Slam Dunk compensated a weak knack for grappling with heel ring psychology and the sort of trash-talking swagger of self-love and confident that white America had come to resent so immensely in young black athletes.

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As a face, Bret Hart insisted he was “the best there ever will be”–he wasn’t even the best wrestler on the roster at time. But when Ali called himself the greatest, the soap boxes lined the streets. People begged and pleaded that someone, out there, would be able to teach Ali some manners and his place in society. Babe Ruth calling his shots is now endearing nostalgia–would we tolerate this from a black athlete?

One positive (of many) in building wrestling shows around non-wrestlers who are trained and learn how to be wrestlers as they go: you can actually sell a leg drop. The roughshod choreography of spots, and Slam Dunk’s imposing size difference over her opponents, makes her leg drop look at the very least unpleasant, if not legitimately painful.

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Most women who get into wrestling are taught how to work the crowd as managers–when they finally get a chance to compete in the ring, it’s hard to translate that manager heat into sustaining the audience’s attention. So they try to stick more moves and repeat botched spots and fall apart into a frenzy of awkward half-bumps when the match isn’t working.

Slam Dunk, wisely, spends more time working the crowd than she does her opponent who is, like her, a wrestler by happenstance. You do the best you can with what you have, and many of the women David McLane wrangled for his schemes weren’t given much in the way of respect or concern for safety.

A towering and obnoxious villainess like Slam Dunk is a staple of a successful fledging roster. You can feed them smaller, less experienced wrestlers for heat, then blow it off with an underdog fan favorite with a convincing half-crab (like Slam Dunk’s rival, Roxy Powers).

She may not have a believable big leaguer, but Slam Dunk had the puckered-lip cockiness and stage presence of a reliable heel menace that could have helped WoW cultivate an acceptable product. At least until they could have afforded to give her a less obvious temporary tattoo. Of a basketball.

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David McLane does not have an entry in the Southern Poverty Law Center’s database and frankly this vexes me.

Foreign Objectification: Toyota/Yamada vs Ozaki/Kansai |AJPW Dreamslam II

At WrestleMania 31 this weekend, the entire Divas division will be compressed into a single tag match with no payoff or forward motion for any of its competitors. This bag of crumbs callously offered to long-suffering believers in women’s wrestling in America will purposely underwhelm in the undercard, making assured shit show stoppers Sting vs Triple H and Brock Lesnar vs Roman Reigns seem like a stumbling attempt to provide an earnest near-miss of what the WWE audiences actually want.

WWE has gotten hip to the social media, but the overwrought hashtags belie veritable tears in the veneer modernity.

A combined age of 167 in your upper card is not progress. Putting 6 of your 8 wrestlers of color on the pre-show is not progress. Shoehorning women into a tag match whose booking goes contrary to the storylines of the wrestlers involved is not a victory lap for diversity and “reaching the people”. It is a stumbling, begrudged forced march into the dark ages of tone deafness that has sunk the industry again and again.

In 1993, one week after Hulk Hogan won the then-WWF title in a main event he wasn’t booked in, Manami Toyota, Toshiyo Yamada, Mayumi Ozaki, and Dynamite Kansai put on a women’s tag match in Osaka that broke the gender barrier like a shoot kick to the face behind the referee’s back, earning the first Wrestling Observer Newsletter’s Match of the Year for women in the sport.

When brought up, the match is often weighed down by hobbyist wrestling historians as an example of how far wrestling had fallen in that time. And, for real: WWF had shit every bed at the Sleep Train with their non-televised title changes, mismanaged younger talent, and letting Hogan job to a fireball.

But this was the same year that Shane Douglas won and then rebuked the NWA Heavyweight Championship to announce the formation of Extreme Championship Wrestling. AAA put on their first TripleMania and NJPW’s Fantastic Story in Tokyo Dome brought in 63,500 attendees.

A bleach-proof blemish in WWE’s history, 1993 was nonetheless a formative year for professional wrestling across the world.

This match is not the low hanging fruit of an industry in decline. It is, even without the benefit of understanding the commentary, one of the greatest matches in the history of the sport. Full stop; fight me.

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To Set the Scene

This match was the second of a trilogy of contests between AJW’s Toyota/Yamada and JWP’s Ozaki/Kansai. While WWF spent the mid 90’s (and really, the whole of their ouevre as an organization) pilfering talent, no matter how useless, from their competitors, fans of joshi puroresu (primarily women) witnessed rival promotions kick and scream through a series of wrestling clinics that cinched Japan’s fourth consecutive Match of the Year award.

David McLane struggles to keep a women’s promotion open in America–there are 12 listed-as-active women’s promotions in Japan, notwithstanding women who appear on the more mainstream “men’s” promotions. The competition in Japan is mayhaps more collectivist than individualist–but it is yet, as Dynamite Kansai’s face will attest, strong style stiff.

Continue reading Foreign Objectification: Toyota/Yamada vs Ozaki/Kansai |AJPW Dreamslam II

Boys Will Be Bigots

“He hurt my feelings.” “Oh well, boys will be boys.” I truly wonder how many times Vince McMahon, and the majority of the talent within the WWE, have heard this excuse used towards their actions over the years. I’m of the mindset that once is too many, but here we are continuing to wrestle with homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, you name it.

So, here we have a company that totes it’s anti bullying campaign, Be A Star, and does everything in their power to go against what they claim to stand for. Hot off the heels of hugely problematic trainer and alleged sexual harasser, Bill DeMott, stepping down from his position within the company, you’d think they’d want to push away from this troubling pattern they’ve been stuck in for so long. Instead, they pay big money to resign Brock Lesnar as one of their mainstays. This is more than just my personal feeling about his wrestling prowess, or lack there of, but solely aimed at what message they are sending by promoting a vocal homophobe and unrepentant stalker. He has, on the record, stated “I don’t like gays. Write that down in your little notebook. I. Don’t. Like. Gays.” Not only is he still signed with the WWE, but he is their champion and the face that they continue to push. They also spent a lot of money to keep him around, and if that isn’t a glowing endorsement of his behaviour, I don’t know what is.

People are going to argue that one person doesn’t constitute a problem, or point out that them keeping queer talent on the roster shows that they are trying to change. I wish I could believe that was the case, but when Darren Young came out the transparency surrounding their statement and maintaining his career to save face was strong. You had a man who you were trying to push fairly hard, only to bury him in your midcard moments after he came out. Pat Patterson has had his sexuality ‘known’ by the public for quite some time, but he only came out officially on WWE Legends’ House. There has also been some allusion from wrestlers, such as Roddy Piper, towards treatment along the lines of sexual harassment from Patterson in the locker room when they were first starting out.

Let me run down a list of other horrific examples of this problem, past and present, that drive this point home.

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Billy and Chuck

Billy and Chuck became a tag team duo that’s sole purpose was to incite gay panic. How quaint. They would have extremely homoerotic workout routines and eventually were engaged to be wed live on television. Fast forward to their ceremony, they are about to be pronounced husband and husband and there is a freak out where it’s revealed that it was all a huge publicity stunt and they weren’t really gay.

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Mark Henry

Mark’s entire gimmick is based around him being a lady’s man. Upon attempting to woo Chyna, who was having none of it, Chyna’s friend Sammy was sent back to take care of Mark. Here’s where I point out to you that Sammy is a cis man dressed as a woman, his purpose is to trick Mark into having sex with him. In wonderful attitude era fashion, we see footage of Sammy going down on Mark Henry backstage. Mark starts to feel up Sammy and then proclaims “Sweet Jesus! You got a penis!” Sammy rips off his wig to reveal he’s actually a man and Mark Henry runs to the washroom to throw up.

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John Cena

It hasn’t been long since John Cena was still rap battling his opponents before a match, most of which were peppered with slurs and wholly oppressive in nature. It didn’t take long before GLAAD actually stepped in to address this issue and steer them away from this continuing to happen. This is yet another man who the WWE has at the helm of their company, and is supposed to be a role model to children, or at least that is how he’s marketed.

This list can go on and on, and that is really disheartening. There are lesbian panic storylines surrounding Rosa on E! Total Divas, the countless times that Lawler has called someone a fag on commentary, the time that the Godfather called Regal a fag in effort to entice a fight, The Rock saying John Cena’s wristbands make him look like a bloated transvestite Wonder Woman ready to fight crime, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Cheap pops aren’t worth it, and there’s no way you can look me dead in the eye and tell me “But he makes us money” when you’re spending ungodly amounts to keep them signed and have my believe you and condone your actions. Once again though, I’m none too convinced that your real slogan isn’t “WWE: You like what we tell you to like.”

Who’s That Girl? Sensational Sherri Martel

A career like Sherri Martel’s would disrupt the otherwise deftly meticulous managing of women’s talent and identity that has become a trademark of the WWE. The first name only gimmicks and over promoting of an underwhelming Divas reality show allows WWE to effectively own the identities and careers of their talent. Should they tire of their five minute snack break matches, WWE can hold the door open to the inhospitable future that lays before them–where else do you think you’ll go? You aren’t properly trained. You don’t even have a full name like a real person. This is where you belong.

Sherri has a career that defies tethering to a brand identity. A 3 time AWA Women’s Champion and one-time WWF Women’s Champion, she has sassed and sashayed her way onto every major American wrestling promotion, even appearing on TNA before her death a year later. She was the standard bearer for wicked feminine wile in the Federation years, managing Randy Savage, Shawn Michaels, and Ted DiBiase, her deviousness accentuated by exaggerated makeup meant to mask her effervescent beauty and entice the marks to  heap hate and judgment on her.

Even the Heenan family would blush at her career-wide retinue–Harlem Heat, Ric Flair, Shane Douglas, Eddie Guerrero, Art Barr.

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Sherri’s mad mat grappling chops are undeniable, but her ring psychology outshines some of her male contemporaries. Triple H once intimidated a referee into reversing a title change. That sort of heelery seems half hearted hackery when compared to Sherri berating the referee, without ever acknowledging the opponent she is wearing down with illegal holds. “Are you happy now!?” she screams, breaking the hold and giving her opponent a chance for a comeback. Sherri knew, for better or worse (usually worse) how to manipulate what men found aggravating or even offensive about her.

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Laying a foundation for women to be fierce in and out of the ring, a formula followed for decades by other valets/grapplers, may have also cost Martel her staying power. She wasn’t tied to a single wrestler (like Miss Elizabeth) and didn’t dramatically change her name or persona when coming into a new promotion (like almost anybody who isn’t a main event star who can leverage their star power against a booking committee’s whim). She was often jobbed out or paired with wrestlers doomed to dodder into obscurity (Tatanka, Marty Jannetty). No one could own her identity. This was before WWE Creative would give you a list of acceptable names, including your real name switched around, that didn’t have the name you’ve used your whole career. This was before WWE set up a whole “starter league” to put established wrestlers through curtain-jerking purgatory to remind them of their new place. Thus Sherri was not always treated sensationally by the business she devoted herself to.

She coached champion tag teams. She took bumps from Hulk Hogan. She brawled in the audience on the independent circuit.

Sherri Martel was tried-and-true journeywoman glue, helping keep the sport together, even while her male counterparts nearly tore the industry apart because they didn’t want to share the spotlight with younger, fresher talent.

A queen if we ever deserved one.

Who’s That Girl? Madusa (Alundra Blayze)

It’s not so often that you get blacklisted by a company for 20 years only to be honoured and inducted into their Hall of Fame afterwards. But, then again, it’s not so often that we come across wrestlers that are the calibre of Madusa.

Madusa, short for Made in the USA, has held 6 separate titles around the world, including the WWF Women’s Championship on three separate occasions. That title is the one that Madusa would later trash live on WCW Monday Nitro stating that this is what she thinks of the WWF Women’s Championship belt. This was an extra huge deal considering that she was brought in to the WWF to help revive the women’s division since that title had been vacant for the three years leading up to her debut. She debuted under the name Alundra Blayze, however, because she had trademarked the name Madusa, which Mr. McMahon didn’t want to pay the license fees for. In other milestones, Madusa also fought Leilani Kai for the title at Wrestlemania X, marking the first women’s match at Wrestlemania since the first one ever.

In addition to all these titles held around the world, Madusa was the first woman ever to be awarded with Pro Wrestling Insider’s “Rookie of the Year” title and was the first foreign wrestler to sign a contract with All Japan Pro Wrestling. Ultimately, Madusa retired from pro wrestling around the time that it was rumoured WCW was going to be bought out by the WWF. The other reason was that she didn’t like the direction that women’s wrestling was headed in being less about actual wrestling and more geared towards strip matches.

One of the strongest matches Madusa ever held was a series of matches in her feud against Bull Nakano. These matches took place in both the USA and Japan, and she actually lost the WWF Women’s Championship Belt to Bull Nakano while in Japan. Her ability to fluidly move from heel to baby face has always impressed me; a lot of what factored in the response to Madusa herself was where the match was taking place in the world. Her style was very fast paced and using finishers that required great agility such as a bridging German suplex or a hurricanarana.

Outside of the ring, Madusa also acted as a manager to several great wrestlers including, my personal favourite, The Macho Man Randy Savage. Here’s to hoping that her induction into the WWE Hall of Fame will help light the fire under their asses they need to build up the women’s division once more. Sadly, they haven’t learned their lesson yet and we aren’t slated to see a title match at Wrestlemania XXXI on Sunday.

Divas Do Double Duty

Monday Night RAW starts and it’s my weekly internal debate of “Do I sit through three hours of poorly booked wrestling or do I follow my twitter feed and live off the recaps from my followers?” I decided to give it a shot to see if Vince was actually going to follow through with his vague promises.

#GiveDivasAChance started trending on twitter 2 weeks ago and it still shows no sign of going away. The WWE tries really hard to be on the ball in terms of staying current, so every week Michael Cole will address anything related to the promotion that is trending on twitter. It popped up during RAW as a result to the Divas match clocking in at less than a minute; that’s right, we have male “Superstars” who have longer entrance sequences on the show than the women were allotted to fight a complete match. Despite all this, the announcers stayed mum. Fast forward to the next day and we see good ol’ Mr. McMahon tweeting the following:

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Does Vince hear us? Is he actually going to take a chance to let us influence the narrative of his product or are we going to see a small glimmer of hope and just slide back into the way it’s been. Their current motto is “WWE: Then. Now. Forever.”; if that doesn’t show a resistance to change, I don’t know what does. Take a skip ahead to last Monday, Michael Cole was given the go ahead to address the hashtag which was trending yet again. He addressed it on air by mentioning that it was trending, but nothing further than that. It seemed your typical RAW with drawn out matches and in ring babbling and added in celebrity appearance since Wrestlemania is just around the corner. This week’s celebrity was Wiz Khalifa who got EIGHT minutes of airtime. The Divas got five minutes total. A five minute match isn’t that atrocious, it’s at least four minutes more than they got the week prior… except this was combined between two matches.

Vince McMahon heard our cry, we kept watching and he “Gave the Divas A Chance” by letting the women have more than one match one the show… but they needed to combine both matches to be shorter than an adequate men’s match. To put some icing on this bittersweet cake, partway through the second match featuring Naomi and Natalya, their husbands (Tyson Kidd & Jimmy Uso) started brawling at ringside and the cameras followed the men. What you’re telling us, Vince, is you hear us but you don’t care.

Who knows if this is a tipping point for WWE in how they treat women, but we need to remember that the buck doesn’t stop with them and they aren’t the end all be all of wrestling. This problem has trickled down to indie level promotions as well. Unless a promotion is all women, such as SHIMMER, League of Lady Wrestlers and Valkyrie, or it’s a women’s event as an exception, it’s extremely commonplace for there to be one women’s match on a card… if any are included at all. Bonus points if your sole women’s match is intergender! There are more than enough talented wrestlers who aren’t cis men that can be booked on your show; what’s the harm in mixing things up?

Women’s wrestling is moving up from what is seen as the mid card “bathroom break” and I will continue to bitch and moan until people like Vince are sick of hearing me and actually make an effort to change. Let’s see if this trend continues and whether or not it’s a genuine effort, or if they’re just pandering to keep us quiet.