Scantily clad cover girls. Hot bodies. Bikini contests. Matches in lingerie.
The women of professional wrestling looked different when Allison Woodard fell in love with the sport from her childhood home in Arlington.
Woodard, now 28, describes her high school self as “an alternative girl with tattoos and weird hair.” Whenever she tuned into her favorite wrestling programs, young Woodard was faced with a discouraging reality: That female performers did not look like her, and that in most cases, their treatment did not match her own sense of self-worth.
Depictions of women and the usage of female talent in pro wrestling have largely reversed in the 20 years since the industry’s height of mainstream popularity.
Gone are the three-minute matches that served as bathroom breaks from the otherwise male-dominated action. In are athletic, 30-minute battles that main event over the men’s competitions and sell out arenas. Women wrestling in pools of mud, pudding or eggnog have been replaced with women wrestling in steel cages, deathmatches and epic ladder wars. Pro wrestling has embraced women of all body types and mostly done away with spotlighting supermodels. Female wrestlers now compete alongside and against males, and often win.
Maybe most importantly, female wrestlers are now allowed to tell stories that are intellectually intelligible, rather than misogynistic tales that aim solely to objectify.
Much of this change happened over the last half-decade, while Woodard was grappling her way to prominence among the independent wrestling scene and onto the cards of super-indie promotion Game Changer Wrestling. When GCW makes its Dallas debut on July 10 at the Irving Arena, Woodard’s homecoming will intersect with a wrestling company that is embracing the ideas of intersectionality — and not just with regards to women.
“That’s been the great thing about GCW,” said Woodard, who goes by the name “Allie Katch” as an in-ring performer. “It’s given me the confidence to know that I can stand up to things that aren’t right anymore.
“It’s taken a long time for wrestling culture to catch up,” Woodard added, “because there were so few people who were vocal enough.”
That’s certainly changed.
Woodard, along with fellow GCW wrestlers Taylor Gibson and AJ Gray, has long heard calls from fans and performers for a more diverse and inclusive product. Few wrestling promotions, regardless of age, size or stature, have escaped criticism for their usage of performers from minority and other marginalized backgrounds — or lack thereof. Time hasn’t been kind to wrestling storylines that dabbled in or outright incorporated themes of racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia or xenophobia, either. There are plenty of examples.
Pro wrestling, like possibly no other industry, has an intimate and symbiotic relationship with the wants and desires of its audience. Tastes have changed because fans have changed. Pro wrestling promotions are no longer insistent on catering to the fantasies of straight, white, working-class and potentially pubescent men. They can’t afford to be.
Pro wrestling is becoming more popular with alternative, non-traditional fanbases. The crowds at GCW shows look different than those who filled the Dallas Sportatorium almost 40 years ago. They come from different backgrounds and experiences, too.
Therein lies the question: What if pro wrestling better represented its diversifying audience, both in the ring and behind the curtain?
Though COVID-19 wreaked havoc on the livelihoods of indie wrestlers, it also provided Woodard, Gibson and Gray opportunities to make underutilized groups of performers more visible. Their goals, along with pandemic circumstances, required a unique approach.
GCW owner and promoter Brett Lauderdale didn’t flinch.
“I’ve always said, from the early days when we had our first glimmer of success and hope, that GCW was a non-traditional wrestling company,” Lauderdale told The News. “When the old school might say, ‘you can’t,’ or, ‘we don’t,’ and the reason is, ‘just because,’ my answer was always, ‘we can, watch us.’”
GCW’s willingness to be different and celebrate difference has been apparent from the start. After all, the company’s beginnings are rooted in a viral video of two wrestlers throwing themselves off a building.
Which is atypical, to say the least.
A true variety show — GCW patrons can witness technical, intergender, comedy, high flying and hardcore wrestling all in the span of seven to nine matches.
The company’s response to calls for greater, industry-wide representation began after the pandemic took hold in 2020. Two showcases spearheaded the promotion’s efforts.
“The Collective,” an October festival in Indianapolis, allowed the promotion to welcome back a socially distanced crowd for multiple days of wrestling. “Fight Forever,” a 24-hour wrestling marathon, allowed Lauderdale to provide indie performers a much-needed payday in January 2021. That event, produced on a closed set without fans in attendance, was free to watch on YouTube. 131 wrestlers split a donation total that Lauderdale says surpassed $70,000, of which $54,000 came directly from fans via crowdfunding website Indiegogo.
With financial backing from Lauderdale, Woodard, Gibson and Gray produced wrestling shows under the GCW banner at these showcases — each of which focused on providing spaces and environments for groups they represent.
Gibson, better known as “Effy” (pronounced eh-fee) inside and outside of wrestling circles, produced his “Big Gay Brunch” and “Big Gay Block,” both of which featured performers from the LGBTQ community. Woodard and Gibson are regular tag-team partners and close friends, but will face each other at the upcoming Dallas event. Gibson is openly gay. Woodard identifies as pansexual.
Gray’s “For The Culture” highlighted Black wrestlers while Woodard’s “Real Hot Girl Sh*t” sought to further increase opportunities for women. Lauderdale provided the trio the latitude to produce these shows in their own image and to choose the in-ring talent, referees, announcers, commentators and other production staff. As a result, their shows were mainly if not entirely put up by those from marginalized groups.
In a business where creative control can be tightly held by owners, Lauderdale’s hands-off approach to these inclusive events is a change of pace. He says that he would rather be a “filter” than a “dictator,” and prefers that his talents keep the pulse of what the audience wants.
“I am still a fan at heart and that helps dictate how GCW operates,” Lauderdale said. “I do put a lot of stock and trust in my performers.”
“It means a lot to me that [Lauderdale] trusts me and trusts Effy and trusts AJ to do all of these things and be representatives of these marginalized groups that need more spaces in wrestling,” Woodard remarked. “He’s not doing it for brownie points. He’s doing it because he knows there needs to be change in wrestling.”
And not only because fans are demanding it.
Pro wrestling has historically favored muscular, tall, white male performers. Pro wrestling’s audience, while operating symbiotically, also operates cyclically. How may a Black, gay or female performer earn more work when audiences can’t see them in the first place? How are wrestling’s traditional tropes holding back marginalized performers?
It all boils down to insisting that opportunities are provided for the underrepresented, which Lauderdale, Woodard, Gibson and Gray have collaborated on in GCW. Running specialized shows on the basis of gender, sexual orientation and race was a “no brainer” according to Lauderdale, who Woodard points out is an older, straight white man.
“How can we put our money where our mouth is?” Lauderdale asked himself earlier in the pandemic. “Because [wrestling promoters] have always said that we believe in providing an inclusive product and environment for fans and performers alike.
“Our company is called Game Changer Wrestling. I want to change the game.”
Changing systemic biases will always be a work in progress — not just in pro wrestling, but across the sports and entertainment landscape. There’s plenty of progress left to make.
Gibson will continue fighting for increased visibility of LGBTQ wrestlers. Gray, a former GCW World Champion, will continue to insist that Black performers be featured more prominently in major, championship storylines and trickle up to work more high-profile wrestling cards.
While conditions for female performers have greatly improved on the forward-facing side of the industry, backstage conditions can still be poor. Woodard and other women wrestlers will continue to speak out against gender-based abuse and sexual harassment that is still commonplace in pro wrestling and other entertainment realms.
Her business is no longer mainstream, but Woodard believes pro wrestling can be again. But, it may only get there by reaffirming commitments to inclusivity. In her view, there isn’t a reason why professional wrestlers can’t be the future heroes of Black, LGBTQ and women’s culture.
“We’re going to be household names again, one day,” Woodard says. “I want it to get to the point where I don’t have to say The Rock and Stone Cold anymore for people to know what pro wrestling is.
“It is so important when you see the right person, and you finally feel like you either belong or you feel like, ‘Hey, I can follow my dreams.’”
Reece Kelley Graham is a digital producer, staff writer and pro wrestling contributor for The Dallas Morning News.
Details
GCW presents: YOU ONLY DIE ONCE
When: Saturday, July 10, 8 p.m. Bell Time
Where: Irving Arena, 2323 Crown Road in Dallas
Tickets: Tickets start at $25, and can be purchased online by clicking/tapping here.
How to watch: The event can be livestreamed via Fite.tv ($13.99).
Find more Arts & Entertainment stories from The Dallas Morning News here.
