And just because some female wrestlers are getting more opportunities doesn’t mean they all are. CNBC estimates that Lynch’s salary hovered around $250,000 in 2018 - while Brock Lesnar, a popular male wrestler, took home about $12 million.Īnd while the company has added lots of feminist verbiage to its promotional material, it’s hard to tell how much of Lynch’s moment, and the growing attention paid to women’s wrestling in general, is thanks to legitimate progress at the WWE, and how much is just marketing.Ĭliched storylines-catfights, boyfriend problems-are still par for the course. The WWE doesn’t disclose wrestling salaries, but it’s no secret that its women’s roster makes significantly less than its men’s. That doesn’t mean she gets paid like one. So when a stadium packed with nearly 100,000 people cheered Lynch’s name-liked they’d cheered for The Rock, John Cena, and Hulk Hogan in past WrestleManias-she became one of the biggest superstars in wrestling history. And that’s no small thing: Wrestlers who win blockbuster matches are usually the ones fans decide MUST win. Lynch, the night’s winner, was once written into WWE scripts as a “heel,” or villain, but was so universally adored by fans that writers had no choice but to make her the good guy. ![]() The main event pitted three high-profile athletes against each other: Rounda Rousey, a famous mixed martial artist Charlotte Flair, daughter of WWE legend Ric Flair, and Becky Lynch, a trash-talking Irish wrestler who goes by “The Man.” ![]() By the end of 2018, the female roster had its own pay-per-view event. In 2016, Stephanie announced that the WWE would retool its women’s division to include longer matches and more nuanced storylines. That night, #GiveDivasAChance trended on Twitter, and the next day, wrestler AJ Lee started a Twitter feud with Stephanie McMahon (now chief brand officer of the WWE, a title she still holds) about the company’s miserable reputation among women. In a February episode of Raw, four female wrestlers faced off-the Bella Twins versus Paige and Emma-in a tag team match that lasted an insultingly short 30 seconds. Rick Madonik-Toronto Star via Getty Images “Miss Elizabeth, ” manager of the legendary Randy "Macho Man" Savage, was lusted after by George “The Animal” Steele, and kidnapped caveman-style (on the WWE’s YouTube channel, you can watch retro footage of a 1987 “Winner gets Elizabeth” match. Stereotypes that long outlasted GLOW’s real-life run.Įver since women popped onto the pro-wrestling scene, they’ve either been typecast as histrionic damsels in distress, or sidelined completely. Three seasons in, Netflix’s adaptation subverts the male gaze, and satirizes the lazy cultural stereotypes that pro wrestling sometimes doubles down on (the black “Welfare Queen,” the Asian “Fortune Cookie”). She gives in, eventually, and goes on to rock an ‘80s bouffant and the stage name “Liberty Belle.” Like the real “Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling,” a troop of women who wrestled in low-budget televised matches from 1986 to 1990, Debbie kicks ass. I mean, you’re like Grace Kelly on steroids.” There’s this scene in GLOW, the Netflix series about an all-female wrestling circuit in L.A., where director Sam (Marc Maron) recruits a blonde up-and-comer named Debbie (Betty Gilpin).
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |