Before I loved basketball, I loved wrestling.
Writer: Jordan Dinwiddie
Illustrator: Andrew Gragg
“Before I loved Penny, Sheryl, or Rodman, I loved Chyna, Stone Cold Steve Austin, and Edge.”
Before I loved Penny, Sheryl, or Rodman, I loved Chyna, Stone Cold Steve Austin, and Edge. Before I loved basketball, I loved wrestling. Wrestling consumed my world, and women’s wrestling was my everything.
Wrestling and basketball appear to be polar opposites, but they both rely on the same dramatics, athletics, and shit talking to draw emotions from their respective fans. There’s something about watching the 5-foot-10-inch, musclebound Chyna powerbomb a man in a ring in front of hundreds of thousands of people that really affects your brain chemistry. It’s the same feeling I had when I saw Sheryl pull up from mid-range with a litany of defenders draped around her.
In the Attitude Era (the pinnacle of wrestling), Black women played a minimal role and while my fandom for wrestling never wavered, it became exhausting. Simply put, I did not see myself in the ring, and the fewer Black women I saw in the ring, the more I was drawn to watching the WNBA.
“I stand 5 feet 11 inches tall, and I weigh 215 pounds. If I weren’t such a wuss, I’d wrestle.”
As a kid, I watched female-fighting phenom Jazz, and Jacqueline, a 5-foot-6 spitfire from Texas; both Black women who, although athletic forces of nature, were never given the Trish Stratus treatment, despite being better athletes in the ring. More recently, Sasha Banks, aka The Legit Boss — a cornerstone of modern women’s wrestling — left WWE due to a rumored pay discrepancy compared to her white colleagues, and Naomi — the first Black woman to capture the WWE Smackdown Women’s championship (and a hit with kids) — felt like she wasn’t being taken seriously after being a part of the company for over 10 years. They say sports are a reflection of the real world. Well, the real world hates Black women. That’s another parallel I’ve seen in women’s basketball.
I stand 5 feet 11 inches tall, and I weigh 215 pounds. If I weren’t such a wuss, I’d wrestle. If I had better hand-eye coordination, I’d be hooping. But the two worlds would eventually collide.
Professional wrestling has always been an outlet for athletes — especially former college athletes, mostly football players and wrestlers — as another path to stardom. It’s a good business move because they’re easily coached and bring a little more interest to the sport, as opposed to a beer-bellied bro. But your clock as a woman who hoops is usually a small window. Wrestling has become that second chance for women in sports, and it’s hoopers that are taking over.
Having hooped at a college most would kill to play at, going to the WNBA seemed like a natural step. Drafted by the Seattle Storm in 2019 in the second round, Lash Legend would not repeat her collegiate success, only playing 3 games and averaging less than two points a game. But she proved herself plenty flexible, literally and figuratively.
She’d sign with WWE for a developmental deal a year later.
Lash made her TV debut on WWE’s NXT (think the G-League for wrestlers), with her very spicy show Lashing Out With Lash Legend, making her the messy Wendy Williams heel (or villain, in wrestling terms) with a lot of potential. She takes the character of your typical daytime messy talk show host who will kick you in the mouth.
The WWE isn’t the only wrestling promotion on the block. Enter Jade Cargill, the kick in the ass wrestling needed.The Jacksonville University volume-shooter from Vero Beach, Florida, is a powerhouse All Elite Wrestler. She spent time overseas hooping in France but found her way to the ring after becoming a fitness model; built like a Greek goddess, with the attitude of a City Girl.
“She’s the perfect intersection of when wrestling truly emulates culture. And she’s got the skill to back it all up.”
The forward made her wrestling debut as Shaq’s valet (the female companion to a male wrestler who works in a non-wrestling capacity). When she started to work in the ring, she injected an energy that I hadn’t seen in wrestling before. She wears a different colored wig every night and has droves of fans who she affectionately calls her “Baddies.” She’s the perfect intersection of when wrestling truly emulates culture. And she’s got the skill to back it all up. She’s been AEW TBS Champion for over 387 days; an unprecedented reign for any champion, let alone a Black woman.
And if you don’t know wrestling, it’s largely because of Jade that there’s never been a more lit time to start watching. She brings the culture to wrestling in the most authentic way.
Hell, she got Trina (yes, that Trina) into wrestling, and had a whole storyline with Bow Wow (yes, that Bow Wow). Despite the bad blood between the two, Jade got Trina to turn on partner Diamante, to align herself with Jade — which, in the wrestling world, is huge; a true embodiment of bad bitches link up. She slapped rapper Bow Wow in the mouth when he hounded her on social media for a date, sending The Shade Room into a frenzy.
She’s what any good general manager would want in a franchise player. She’s what I would have wanted to see as a girl sitting on the couch, watching my older cousin Terrance yell at Monday Night Raw. I wished I saw more women who looked like me. These Black women are changing the game.
“As wrestling continues to evolve and become more diverse. I pray that both the WNBA and wrestling continue to hold space for Black women to show their personalities and athleticism in the ring and on the court.”
As wrestling continues to evolve and become more diverse. I pray that both the WNBA and wrestling continue to hold space for Black women to show their personalities and athleticism in the ring and on the court. In a league of 144 — where roster spots are highly coveted and sometimes unattainable — wrestling gives these women a second chance at becoming a star.
That’s all 10 year old Jordan wanted to see. A star that looked like her.