The Girlhood Dream

Ms. Vida seems to think that I don't have a dream. Well, honey, I'm not Martin Luther King. I don't need a dream. I have a plan.

Noxemma Jackson, To Wong Foo

I met my friend Tyler in acting class. At first, I didn't like him because I thought he was a bit of a ham. One day, I wore my CM Punk shirt to class. I only wear really nondescript wrestling shirts as the really obvious ones are ugly (and rarely come in a ladies' size anyway) so I was really surprised when Tyler complimented me on my shirt and we started our friendship over our love for wrestling.

If finding an awesome ladies size wrestling shirt is hard, finding a friend who likes pro wrestling as an art is even harder. Our conversations on Wade Barrett and Damien Sandow also included conversations about Nigel McGuinness and Colt Cabana and we could talk about the fun and the technical sides. 

When Tyler asked me if I thought he could be a wrestler, I told him the truth. It's hard. I wanted to be a wrestler but it's such a long way to get to the point where you "succeed". For me, I didn't look like a stereotypical female fit model slash actress slash wrestler. For Tyler, he didn't look like the steroid freak mastodons that the Vince McMahons of the world love.

But he didn't let that stop him. He went to Storm Academy in Calgary and trained and I supported him as much as I could. He was doing something I always wanted to do but felt so beaten before I even began.

Tonight I went to check out a local wrestling event as I really, really wanted to hit on Colt Cabana (shut up) and I was really surprised to see Tyler come out during the battle royale match. I cheered like an idiot and cheered even harder when he executed a freakin' beautiful hurricarana. During the intermission, I went to hug him and was just so proud to see him wrestling FOR REAL. 

Dreams are easy to have but actually going for them isn't. There are a lot of hurdles. Most of my hurdles were things that made me tired before I even started. The scornful looks I got when I amateur wrestled as a kid and the realization that there are barely any female main events in the WWE. I am sad I didn't say "fuck it" and go anyway. But I don't regret where my path has led me towards another dream. I just wish I had been as strong as Tyler to at least try. 

When Tyler had his second match, he and I had an epic high five as he circled the ring to slap the hands of the crowd that reached out. Seeing Tyler in the ring, even if it wasn't WWE, inspired me to dream big and just go for it. I aim to be as big as Tarantino, to make art, to do everything and anything I can. My fear may have ended one dream but the inspiration from Tyler made me realize I didn't want it to end another.

This is awesome! *Clap, clap, clap, clap*

When you gonna make up your mind

Being a wrestling fan isn't easy. You've got folks on your ass about liking a "fake" sport and all the homoerotic bits.

Add on being a female wrestling fan and things are even more sucky. You're told you're only into wrestling for the hot guys and don't know shit about anything when it comes to wrestling.

Trust me, I wasn't in it for the hot guys. Back when my grandfather and dad got me into wrestling, wrestlers looked like this:

Oh, baby, take me, I'm yours.

I go in and out of my interest in wrestling but I have a massive soft spot for it. 

It's why I lost my mind when I found out Mick Foley was doing a speaking show in my city. Mick has always been one of my favourites. Back in the late 90s, Mankind scared the hell out of me so, of course, I loved watching to see what other scary things he'd do. 

After reading Mick's first book Have A Nice Day I really thought he was brilliant. It was nice to see him succeed despite being told repeatedly that he'd never do so because he didn't look "the part". Since being a wrestling fan usually means you're put down a lot about it, I (and many other fans) could relate to his struggles. I also really loved that he is a feminist. Considering that pro wrestling isn't exactly known for its pro-women stance (amongst the wrestlers or with fans), having a wrestler tell his audience that maybe a woman should get a chance to ask a question (which Mick did at the WWE panel when I was at SDCC) is a pretty big deal. 

And he's just a nice guy really. At the WWE signing at Comic Con, my sister was heartbroken that she'd have to choose being going to a panel for her favourite TV show or going to a Mick signing that I decided to go get her autograph. I ran up to Mick during the signing and handed him a note book turned to a page with "Hi Kerri" written on it in a word bubble. I quickly told him that my sister loved him but couldn't make it to the signing but would he be so kind to take a picture for me holding the sign so I could give it to her.

His body guard was about to push me off but Mick said, "No, no, it's ok! Do you have a camera?" 

My sister nearly wet her pants

My sister was excited to meet Mick this evening to get him to sign the Comic Con picture. I was excited to shake his hand and tell him I really appreciated all the good work he does for organizations like RAINN in the US and for victims of war rape in Sierra Leone. As we got on stage at the Park Theatre and got our chance to talk to Mick, he smiled brightly at me and commented on my Cyndi Lauper shirt that reads "GIRLS JUST WANT TO HAVE FUN" saying it was cute. I shook his hand and he asked how I spelled my name. As I shook his hand again and he handed me my autograph, I told him that I really appreciated all the work he does for women who have gone through such tragedy and I wish more men were like him. He smiled and thanked me.

I didn't tell him but I am a survivor of sexual assault. The first thing you want to do about it is hide the fact that it ever happened. It's so hard to talk about it and so many people want to ignore that it even happens. 1 in 3 women are survivors of sexual violence. Every time I tell my story to a friend, they more often than not tell me they went through something similar. For a long time I felt that every man that I ran into would hurt me and that I always had to be on my guard. When you are growing up, the incentive is on you to protect yourself because "guys can't control themselves". What does this say about men? Women have to take the procautions because men can't control themselves? This thought process hurts both men and women. Men are mindless animals while women only have themselves to blame if they're raped. I think it's important that men and boys are involved in the prevention of sexual assaults.

As Mick himself has said, he's "hopeful that if he can spread the message that 'this thing that you think of as a drunken exploit that you might brag to your friends about is shattering a life and the lives of people around [the survivor],' then maybe men will listen. 'Everyone knows a survivor, whether you [are aware of it] or not, and I'm hoping that others, both unlikely figures and likely figures, will join the cause.'" (Source)

"It doesn’t seem like a pro-wrestler would be able to lend much when it comes to a campaign against sexual violence, but for some reason I kept telling myself that it made perfect sense."

Maybe some dudes in the wrestling fandom will see Mick's tweets about RAINN and get interested. Maybe they won't. However it's nice knowing that there are men like Mick supporting the cause. I really wish there were more guys like him. Knowing that there are makes me less afraid that I'm going to be hurt in those moments where I don't have my guard up. 

Plus his book made me discover the awesomeness that is "Winter" by Tori Amos. 

 

I'll start the chant: Thank you, Mick.

I Came to Play Part 2

Up until September of last year, I hadn’t watched wrestling in nearly 8 years. I had drifted from it due to a mix of disinterest and feeling like I had outgrown it. There are two things I’ve always loved about wrestling: the storylines and the wrestlers that are just damn good at wrestling. But around 2001-2002, the storylines weren’t of interest to me and not even my favourite wrestlers could save it.

So a sexy accent and magnificent bastardry brought me back to the WWE. I’m also quite the sucker for good vs. evil battles especially when the side of evil is so deliciously evil and that's why Cena vs. Nexus brought me back.

Still, not even a delicious villain with sumptuous tones or the eternal conflict between face and heel were reason enough for me to come out of the wrestling fan closet. This Trekkie had a reputation to protect after all!

I think my Raw watching would have ended just as quickly as they began if it hadn’t been for another house show I went to. This time it was just my sister and I. She had wanted to go because she was convinced John Cena would be there. I wanted to go because my high-powered binoculars, like me, had a crush on Wade Barrett. Since tickets were only 20 bucks each, we decided we’d go for a laugh. I still wore my hood the whole way there though.

Our seats were pretty awesome

House shows don’t involve any of the super cool theatrics that are on the televised shows. There’s no pyro and the matches aren’t commentated. Knowing this before hand, I went in convinced that all I was going to do was leer at oiled up boys, boo and cheer at the appropriate times and renew the drink and popcorn supply when I got bored.

The first match was Daniel Bryan vs. Dolph Ziggler.

And boy did that match not bore me.

Daniel Bryan is considered one of the best wrestlers in the world and was trained by two of my favourites: Shawn Michaels and William Regal (both being absolutely fantastic at the actual wrestling side of pro wrestling). Being new to the most recent batch of wrestlers in the WWE, I hadn’t known of Bryan or his awesomeness at the time. The mind of this once obsessed wrestling fan that grew up watching Shawn Michaels, William Regal, Chris Jericho, and Owen and Bret Hart was in absolute nerd meltdown while watching Daniel Bryan conjuring his magic. It was nerdgasm after nerdgasm, people. It was the first time I saw his absolutely badass running back flip off the top turnbuckle and I was in love with it. I would marry that back flip.

That night was a blast and that match between Bryan and Ziggler reminded me why I loved wrestling in the first place.

However the house show also reminded me of why I disliked wrestling and why I’m embarrassed to like it. You see, I've always loved women's wrestling but I always disliked how it was treated. Sure back in the WWF day, women’s wrestling wasn’t that big of a deal but they still had quite a few awesome ladies. When I was young, it was Alundra Blayze, Bull Nakano, and Luna Vachon. When I was a little older, it was Sable, Lita, and Chyna. Yes, back in the WWF days, the women wore very little clothing but they still kicked both male and female ass while in very little clothing. Sable came to the ring once in a “bikini” that consisted of a bikini bottom and black paint hand prints over her breasts. My dad had my eyes covered for that but the time she power bombed Marc Mero after kicking him in the groin endeared her to me forever (she was fully dressed for this bit of badassery). Women's wrestling wasn't a main event but at least it was enjoyable.

I don't know how but when I came back I found out women’s wrestling is even less of a deal. The match between Eve Torres and Alicia Fox that I saw was met with the most overwhelming feeling of, “Oh, God, really!?” from the 90% male audience at the house show. Which really surprised me as I had assumed that most of the guys in the audience would be into hot chicks cat fighting in very little ring attire.

What annoys me about women's wrestling in the WWE is the double standard: men have to be good wrestlers first and that’s it. The women have to be supermodels and the wrestling end is not really that important since they’ll pick it up as they go along. That bugs me because not only is it stupid, it’s dangerous. A pro wrestler is like being a stunt person and a lot of training is required to do things properly. One botched move can leave you with broken bones, a concussion or paralysis. And even with training, things can go wrong. With the women not really being expected to do anything other than look pretty, I’m surprised there haven’t been more injuries amongst the female competitors.

That’s not to say there aren’t talented women in WWE. I absolutely love a bunch of them with Melina, Natalya, Tamina, and Beth Phoenix being my fantastic four.

The way the women are presented is what stinks. Female fans feel insulted when the women wrestlers spend most of the match pulling hair and calling each other fat while the male fans are annoyed with the low quality of the wrestling that not even hot chicks in hot pants can save. And with commentators calling a women’s match with, “Well, this is a 3 on 3 Divas match, I wonder what John Cena is up to?” it appears that company isn’t taking the women seriously either.

The treatment of women in the WWE is why I’m embarrassed by it. I wish WWE would go about changing it especially when you hear little girl wrestling fans who would like to be Divas but can’t (they say) because “they’re not pretty”. It’s enough to make one fly to Connecticut, find Vince McMahon’s house, knock on his door, and hit him with a steel chair when he answers. Oy vey.

Despite that, hope remains. In the few months since I’ve been watching, things are getting better. Natalya is the Divas champion and her feud with Melina seems as if it’ll be more about the title and less about mean girl jealousy. And Beth Phoenix is back from an injury and fireman carrying two Divas on her back at the same time to show that’s she feeling better.

I want to be Beth when I grow up despite her being only 5 years older than me.

Though WWE may be turning me into a Red Lantern some nights, I’m recapturing my love of it. I doubt it’ll ever make it out of the guilty pleasure bit of my brain and there are parts I’ll always roll my eyes at. Still I find myself loving it even with the hammy overacting and incredibly bizarre storylines. It’s like a real life comic book: the Superman, the Wonder Woman, the Big Bad, and the final battle (live on Pay Per View!). Most of my old favourites have retired or are about to but I’ve surprised myself with new favourites taking the banner. And you can’t completely hate something that meant a lot to you as a kid even if sections of it embarrass you as an adult (looking at you, Backstreet Boys).

I’ll still buy the magazine while it’s sandwiched between Shape and National Geographic but I'm going to hold my head up high when my sister and I are inevitably the first women in line for the Royal Rumble PPV at the multiplex later this month.

Now that I've spilled the beans, I'd love to hear the tales of your guilty pleasures.

I Came to Play Part 1

I think it’s time I admitted it: I’m a WWE (formerly the WWF) fan.

And that tends to embarrass me. When I go in to buy a WWE magazine, the process is what I imagine buying pornography would be like. I buy a second magazine (Shape or Oxygen usually), put that magazine over the WWE one, and make sure my body is blocking the view of what I’m buying when I’m at the register.

The silly thing is, I have far more nerdy things I could be embarrassed about. I’ve spent most of my early twenties running around in some sort of guise be it a Ravenclaw student, a Spider Splicer from the bowels of Rapture, an Engineering Ensign, or the Master playing track 3. I won’t even mention the “We Believe in Harvey Dent” campaign I organized with my sister while we stood in line for the midnight showing for The Dark Knight. But I digress.

As a kid, I loved wrestling. My dad was a bad influence since his babysitting of me often involved sitting me on his lap while wrestling was on. Amongst the kids I grew up with, the only thing more popular than hockey was pro wrestling. The most popular teacher in my elementary school was the teacher that was a first cousin of Chris Jericho (we didn’t get to meet him sadly). Obviously WWF was a big deal. Tuesday morning recess was spent talking about Monday Night Raw the night before. The lucky handful that were able to attend a WWF event in Winnipeg were listened to the day they came back with a hushed reverence in the half hour the teacher set aside for them to talk (the teacher having been annoyed by our constant disruptions during math when we tried to get the goods out of the lucky traveler).

Thanks to my dad, I was one of those lucky travelers! My dad bought the tickets to a WWF house show when he found out that Bret Hart vs. Shawn Michaels was the main event that night.


Bad. Ass

I was 11 and Shawn and Bret were two of the tri-Kings of my universe (the third being Batman). The story of that trip has reached the status of legend in my head even though I only remember two things about it: the lights going out during the Undertaker’s entrance and the Bret vs. Shawn match. Our seats were right at the hockey boards, 8 rows away from the barricade around the ring. There was a clear path from me straight to that barricade. When Bret’s music hit, I made a run for it. My dad grabbed me by my belt and pulled me back to the chairs, giving me a look that said, “Don’t think I won’t drag you out of here!” I frowned but sat down and cheered for Bret.

Then Shawn Michaels’ music hit and I lost all restraint. I got a whole leg and my upper body over that board when my dad grabbed me by the neck of my Shawn Michaels t-shirt and yelled, “SONYA!” To which I responded, “DAD. IT”S SHAWN!” and put all my weight forward. I didn’t care if I choked myself out, Shawn bloody Michaels was less than 50 feet away. So there I was, screaming at the top of my lungs with my last lungful of air while Shawn entered the ring and my dad tried to pull me back. I wouldn’t freak out to that level again until I saw my favourite band for the first time 12 years later.

I’ve only recently returned to regular watching of Raw and Smackdown. I wish I could say it was because of the fond memories I had of watching wrestling when I was a child but the truth is I developed a huge crush on Wade Barrett. There’s just something about a charismatic, dominating magnificent bastard that is just fascinating and fun to watch. And the fact that he has a sexy accent is a bonus.


......I'm sorry, what?