WWE, Manufactured Misogyny, Ronda Rousey & Exceptional Outsiders
This was originally published for FightBooth in 2018 under the title “We’ve Been Ready to Rumble.”
On December 18, Stephanie McMahon announced that for the first time ever women will get their very own Royal Rumble. Rightfully so, many are excited. On the heels of many firsts for women in WWE, it’s undoubtedly a historical milestone that necessarily will be celebrated. But the context makes me more wary than I am glad.
WWE is a sport, sure, but it’s more a modern day gladiator, an ever expanding long form work of poetry the likes of Beowulf, a soap opera about a pantheon of gods who may or may not ever reveal their true form or true motivations. There is no doubt that what professional wrestlers do requires incredible athleticism, but the context of the show itself makes more sense if it’s about demigods than any varsity team or even street brawlers. The entertainment half of the equation means that what we’re dealing with, and what we love about it, is often more Mortal Kombat than UFC.
If I can believe that Daniel Bryan can defeat Randy Orton, Batista, and Triple H in ONE NIGHT in one of the most beautiful Wrestlemania narratives we’ve ever seen, then why can’t I believe that a woman can fight a man, that a woman can enter the Rumble amongst peers of any gender and fight and scheme and form momentary alliances and backstab and hide, do whatever is necessary, to strive for victory?
There are certainly pros to the women having their own Rumble: more women will be highlighted. There is, in theory, the potential for each woman in the rumble to start on her own narrative journey, her own climb to Wrestlemania, we could see character development, relationships born, the beginnings of feuds or factions, just as we do in the traditional male-driven Rumble.
But considering the history of women in this company and considering the limited history of women in this specific match alongside the men and the current climate of women’s wrestling and WWE fandom today, giving the women their own Rumble instead of letting them demand a spot in the existing Rumble continues to place this as a sideshow. Women, no matter how many of them now get a pass on the inherent misogyny of reviewers and fandom, are still an optional appetizer, their budding equality easily avoided with a channel flip, a fast forward, or a foray into your favorite app.
In the Royal Rumble’s past, three women have entered: Chyna in 1999 and again in 2000, Beth Phoenix in 2010, and Kharma in 2012. All three women were booked as outside of and often above the women’s division, because size, stature, or attitude made them more manly, and so, better than a woman. The tool of flattery by which they were measured was one that insists that women are inherently weak. Each woman eliminated one man per Rumble. Only Chyna’s came close to furthering a story or setting up a narrative, which is one of my favorite things about the Royal Rumble. In her second Rumble entry, she eliminated Chris Jericho, who she had a consistent narrative with for some time. Beth Phoenix’s entry was cringe worthy. She eliminates The Great Khali, and while there is merit to a competitor using brains over brawn, the way she does so is to kiss him.
Do you get it? Because she’s a woman. And she’s got all those wiles just lying around.
To CM Punk’s credit, he treats her like a person. He doesn’t handle her with kid loves or make any reference to her gender at all. He puts her to sleep and tosses her aside, but even this leaves a bitter taste in your mouth if you consider that Serena, the sole female member of the Straight Edge Society, stood doe-eyed ringside.
The Revolution & Rapid Fire Firsts:
Since the first women’s Hell In A Cell (I wrote about the disappointing critical and fan response to that) WWE seems to be eager to drop milestones for the women, often without considering the full scope of booking possibilities or what merit those firsts could really hold for representation and for their own history. A prime example of this is Money in the Bank. Carmella won the first ever women’s Money in the Bank, but she did not climb the ladder and take the briefcase for herself. James Ellsworth, a gimmick ripe for endless exploration of harmful tropes in modern wrestling, climbed the ladder FOR her and threw it down to her.
Never in the history of the match has anyone won that way. No controversial ending or interference has ever amounted to that. At best, it was using the first ever women’s Money in the Bank to highlight a frankly kink-based dynamic as male fantasy fulfillment out of complete out of touch innocence. They attempted to redo the match the very next Smackdown, but it was too late. For many, myself included (I have not watched more than a few clips from Smackdown since), the aftertaste of female recognition met with the image of a joke and tool of male fantasy standing on top of that ladder was doomed to linger.
And this has been our disappointing dance with intergender wrestling in the age of the so-called revolution.
Ellsworth went on to have a match with Becky Lynch, a match where no one could win. Ellsworth’s entire thing was that he wasn’t good enough to fight the men… so what does a woman beating him really mean? At best, it means that they rank second, still under men, still less than. Ellsworth is even weaker than you dumb girls, ain’t exactly heart warming. And the match itself was a real, competitive match. What this says is, Becky had to put up a fight to beat Ellsworth, so how could the women’s roster ever stand a chance against real men?
With the recent teasing of Nia Jax as someone to contend with by men and women alike, a device we’ve seen before with Chyna, that often ends up making the remainder of the women’s division left behind, it’s for WWE to either commit to intergender wrestling- with intention, deliberation, and awareness of its past mistakes- or to start giving these milestones real weight. Title shots on par with something like the Universal title. Stories as deeply dug as the Shield. Trust in their performers to fill a gimmick that comes from themselves.
And in theory, here at the Go Home Raw (and 25th year celebration), we could have that. The growing rumors, however, point to something entirely different…
Ronda Rousey & Exceptional Outsiders
Author Note: Rousey reportedly told TMZ yesterday evening (Jan 25th, 2018) that she has not yet reached a deal with WWE, but due to the likelihood of her eventual involvement and the possibility of a work, I decided to move forward
For years now, rumors have been very strong that Ronda Rousey, a self proclaimed wrestling fan, might appear in WWE, and these have only grown in the face of the Royal Rumble announcement. WWE has extended their “Give Divas A Chance” tailwind to giving honorary titles to female sports stars since it began, the US Women’s National soccer team for example, and have even hired former women UFC competitors, such as current NXT roster’s Shayna Baszler. Ronda Rousey’s life and career in both judo and MMA (successes and failures, wins and losses) are indicative of a wrestling fairytale, so why am I not happy to potentially see her?
On the surface, she’s just a terrible improver who has two facial expressions, which is sort of the opposite of the skill set required for pro wrestling. Her bit at the Wrestlemania with the Rock was cringe inducing and exhibited that she doesn’t really know how to feed off of a crowd. She’s the opposite of Chris Jericho, if that’s helpful to anyone not currently watching. Is true equality letting women also have a Goldberg, by which I mean a useless mass of muscle that cannot emote and is incapable of narrative because of it? In some ways, I suppose yes, but even if I weren’t invested in progress holding hands with raising the bar for this artform, we need to discuss how Rousey represents every pitfall in WWE’s sordid past with representation.
Rousey certainly challenges masculine versus feminine gender roles, often standing up for herself when some have bullied or belittled her for her strong features but her Instagram fueled “do nothing bitch” mantra left some things to be desired. To quote Rousey she doesn’t think she’s “infallible enough for [being a role model],” per UFC 190’s vlog series, but nonetheless, she’s a public figure who many found themselves relating to, and she explained that these so-called do nothing bitches are only pretty or muscular or fit to seduce millionaires and be taken care of. Perhaps she didn’t mean for this to spin into women pitting women against each other, but if you examine the hashtag on Instagram you’ll see that it has been used to take down fitness models, commercial models, and pretty much anyone with a following for their aesthetic. It’s yet another way for women who feel that they do not fit conventional modes of beauty and femininity to, in lieu of celebrating themselves or questioning the social institutions that try to classify all women and people, drag women who do fit that mold down. As recently as the feud between The Bellas and AJ Lee with Paige, WWE has a notorious problem with this. It is one of the biggest points of toxicity within pro wrestling fandom, women considered conventionally attractive (like the Bellas) often being torn apart for “sucking” or “not improving” without any examination of their moveset, mic skills, in ring storytelling abilities, appeal as faces or heels, simply because someone in Converses and darker eyeshadows is offered up as their “Other”.
The bigger issue with Ronda Rousey being brought in as a pinnacle of feminine athleticism than her casual forays into internalized misogyny (and we all have a journey to go on… this is perhaps the only way she knows how to stand for herself and I don’t wish to tarnish a hero to young women and even men who need her at this point in their own lives) is her blatant, unapologetic transmisogyny. In a company that, despite its significant steps forward in the past few years, has yet to give us positive, active representation within the LGBTQ community, we cannot afford to offer a hero that responds to accountability for transmisogyny with uneducated excuses. In 2013, Rousey responded to a gross rant Matt Mitrione was suspended for, wherein he called transgender fighter Fox Fallon a lot of gross things you’re welcome to look up at your own risk by saying, “She can try hormones, chop her pecker off, but it’s still the same bone structure a man has. It’s an advantage. I don’t think it’s fair. […] I understand the UFC doesn’t want to be associated with views like (Matt Mitrione’s). I’m also glad they didn’t straight cut him.”
Rousey has faced intersex competitors before in judo, but when asked about this, doubled down on her harmful opinions by stating that for Fallon, “it was a decision she made. She should be aware of in her career after that, it’s going to be an arduous path. […]What if she became UFC champion and we had a transgender women’s champion? It’s a very socially difficult situation.”
It’s not socially difficult. Those hormones change your body. I, of course, am writing this as a cis woman who has never experienced this myself, but it takes an incredibly small amount of time to do base level research into the process of transitioning, and to understand that after estrogen based treatments to feminize one’s body (I do not mean to speak to Fox Fallon or anyone’s specific experience or treatment) you are no longer effectively at the general testosterone level of a biologically born male, outside of the larger issue of hormones and human bodies and gender being immensely complicated things that we do not generally test for before athletic competitions. Most fighting competitions are divided into weight classes… I don’t know of any that test your hormone levels before a match up.
(And once again, WWE is less a bout of athleticism and more a Shakespearean Soul Calibur.)
You Created Your Context, WWE
We can’t keep blindly moving forward without setting all the bones we broke. The Attitude era, yes… I could talk until I’m blue in the face about bra and panties matches, evening wear, ho trains, puppies, Lita’s retirement match, etc… but even the run of our forever longest reigning Divas champion Nikki Bella was rife with a very clear brand of what they believed women to be.
I don’t want to tear apart any well meaning writer, but I’ve seen a few arguments that women are a “new” base that WWE should cater to… and just like the women in the locker room… we have always been here. We have always deserved more. Yes, we’re best for business, but we’re also people you’ve stepped on for years. You, male fans, have also neglected us. All that Total Divas, Mattel, the women themselves, have done to prove that women support women would be essentially erased, made null and void, if we brought in an outsider of any kind, to proclaim them as better, stronger, more capable, more talented, more driven, than a woman already on the roster. Even an outsider woke enough for the niche of Socialist Wrestling Twitter (I don’t know the official name of the stable, you guys) would be undermining all that the women who are here have done.
And if there are no mistakes, and if I am in awe, not only of how not blatantly offensive and shitty it is, but of how GOOD it is…
At the end of it all, the women get what? A shot at the Universal Title at Wrestlemania?
Oh, right.
Only men get to face a former UFC champion who only deigns to appear four times a year.
At the Raw 25 year celebration this very Monday night, the only honor the women received was to be called out on stage, and to smile and wave. There were no promos. There were no backstage segments. There was no old king, no king. There certainly wasn’t anything comparable to the nostalgia and niche off that we saw DX, the I guess Bullet Club, and the Revival have. Lita, one of the only women to main event a Raw or to have a substantial storyline before the feud between Sasha and Charlotte a few years ago, was not even present, and if it isn’t a work, per her Twitter, she was not even invited.
And so, mere days before this milestone, I’m left to wonder:
What’s the point?
