Despite its good intentions, Evolution may end up contributing to the pattern of inequality WWE is working to abolish.
by Sam Everett, @readsameverett
During WWE's 2005 edition of Taboo Tuesday, a pay-per-view event giving fans the opportunity to vote for match types and participants, the eight-match card featured one women's match, an over-the-top-rope battle royal. Once the democratic process played out, it was decided the women would compete in lingerie. The ancient Greeks would be proud. (Fans' other options included "Leather and Lace" or cheerleader uniforms.) Half the women in the match had almost no formal in-ring experience, instead having been plucked from WWE's Diva Search, which was at worst an annual beauty pageant, at best a talent show. (No one's talent was ever wrestling.) Ah, yes, and this battle royal was for the Women's Championship.
It's easy to grab the low hanging fruit and point and laugh at what a bunch of cavemen we were in 2005. But that's not the point of bringing up this forgettable match from a forgettable event that's about to turn thirteen. (Old enough to experience confusing feelings watching its own Women's Championship match.) No, what's noteworthy is that the three women in the match known for their wrestling ability--Trish Stratus, Mickie James, and Victoria--were the last three competitors remaining in the match. They may have been wrestling in bedroom attire, but WWE had the good sense to leave them out there to wrestle.
The seeds for what would eventually become WWE's Women's Revolution have long been in the ground, even before that Tuesday night in 2005. (Of course, the battle royal mostly existed in service of a stalker storyline that culminated at WrestleMania 22 with James famously grabbing Stratus's crotch and licking her own fingers. The seeds for the Revolution were in the ground, sure, but there was a ways to go before they would begin to sprout.)
In about a month WWE presents its first all-female event, Evolution. On camera, the event is sold as the natural progression of the Women's Revolution that began in 2015; popular opinion has it that the event exists as a make-good for the women being barred from April's Greatest Royal Rumble event in Saudi Arabia (because Saudi Arabia). And if the latter is true, it's consistent with WWE's pattern of redressing--literally, in the case of lingerie matches--an absurdity of its own design, then patting itself on the back for pursuing equality.
The fact is, WWE's women deserve the payday they missed in Jeddah, but fans and talent have never really cried out for an exclusively female pay-per-view. The Revolution doesn't need Evolution. However, there are several measures the company can and should take in the interest of true, long-lasting equality.
Veteran backstage interviewer and pre-show host Renee Young was recently promoted to a full-time position behind the announce table on WWE's flagship show, Raw. This is progress. Before now, WWE Hall of Famer Beth Phoenix has acted as color commentator for a women's tournament and the Mixed Match Challenge pitting teams of both sexes against each other. But Young will be the first female announcer who isn't there primarily to offer a woman's perspective on matches featuring women. She gets to talk about all the matches and storylines involving all the people, even the ones with Y chromosomes! However, it's important to remember that even if Young doesn't pan out as an announcer, WWE should not succumb to the temptation to blame it on her being a woman. Just because she's the first, Young can't be the standard by which all future, full-time female announcers are judged. Give another woman a chance. Plenty have made their living wrestling over the years, which means WWE has plenty of candidates to consider. They don't necessarily deserve a seat at the table, but they deserve a shot.
Also, get out the engraving machine--it's time to rename some title belts. The Universal Championship needs to become the Men's Universal Championship, to distinguish it from its new Raw counterpart, the Women's Universal Championship. Ditto SmackDown Live and it's WWE and Women's championships.
WWE boasts a Cruiserweight Division and Tag Team Divisions and, yes, Women's Divisions. So they can start mentioning the Men's Heavyweight Division too, right? Otherwise the perception is that being a male, heavyweight wrestler is the default, and every other type of performer is some sort of novelty act. It sounds pedantic, but it does matter.
And can we get some last names for the ladies? About one-third of the women on WWE's main roster are known solely by their first names. (Naomi . . . Natalya . . . Bayley . . . Paige. . . .) Compare that to the less than ten percent of men. Twenty years ago Bill Goldberg became a thousand times more badass by dumping his first name. And he would have become a million times less badass if he'd only been called "Bill." So why is Lana running around with no surname, especially when this faux Russian American married to a Bulgarian has so many options? Even female wrestlers who do have last names are often casually stripped of them, by WWE and its Universe alike. Which match are you most looking forward to at this weekend's Hell in a Cell event, Charlotte versus Becky, or Jeff versus Randy? A complete name denotes a complete person, someone with a history, a family, a real life. A female performer who only goes by her first name denotes a stripper. (For TSTW's significant stripper readership: There's nothing wrong with being a stripper--but for the longest time WWE seemed to regard much of its female talent as variations of a stripper, never capable of being much else.)
Finally, rumors abound that Evolution will become an annual event. The only way this wouldn't be a mistake would be for the company to admit--freely, on television, in continuity--that the event exists strictly as a politically correct counter-balance to the yearly Saudi Arabia cash grab no one can resist. Otherwise Evolution turns female wrestling into just another gimmick, like a pay-per-view full of extreme rules matches or tables, ladders, and chairs matches. The Revolution will only be won when WWE demonstrates the simple understanding that wrestling as a woman, being a woman, isn't a gimmick.
It's easy to grab the low hanging fruit and point and laugh at what a bunch of cavemen we were in 2005. But that's not the point of bringing up this forgettable match from a forgettable event that's about to turn thirteen. (Old enough to experience confusing feelings watching its own Women's Championship match.) No, what's noteworthy is that the three women in the match known for their wrestling ability--Trish Stratus, Mickie James, and Victoria--were the last three competitors remaining in the match. They may have been wrestling in bedroom attire, but WWE had the good sense to leave them out there to wrestle.
The Revolution doesn't need Evolution.
The seeds for what would eventually become WWE's Women's Revolution have long been in the ground, even before that Tuesday night in 2005. (Of course, the battle royal mostly existed in service of a stalker storyline that culminated at WrestleMania 22 with James famously grabbing Stratus's crotch and licking her own fingers. The seeds for the Revolution were in the ground, sure, but there was a ways to go before they would begin to sprout.)
In about a month WWE presents its first all-female event, Evolution. On camera, the event is sold as the natural progression of the Women's Revolution that began in 2015; popular opinion has it that the event exists as a make-good for the women being barred from April's Greatest Royal Rumble event in Saudi Arabia (because Saudi Arabia). And if the latter is true, it's consistent with WWE's pattern of redressing--literally, in the case of lingerie matches--an absurdity of its own design, then patting itself on the back for pursuing equality.
. . . There are several measures the company can and should take in the interest of true, long-lasting equality.
The fact is, WWE's women deserve the payday they missed in Jeddah, but fans and talent have never really cried out for an exclusively female pay-per-view. The Revolution doesn't need Evolution. However, there are several measures the company can and should take in the interest of true, long-lasting equality.
Veteran backstage interviewer and pre-show host Renee Young was recently promoted to a full-time position behind the announce table on WWE's flagship show, Raw. This is progress. Before now, WWE Hall of Famer Beth Phoenix has acted as color commentator for a women's tournament and the Mixed Match Challenge pitting teams of both sexes against each other. But Young will be the first female announcer who isn't there primarily to offer a woman's perspective on matches featuring women. She gets to talk about all the matches and storylines involving all the people, even the ones with Y chromosomes! However, it's important to remember that even if Young doesn't pan out as an announcer, WWE should not succumb to the temptation to blame it on her being a woman. Just because she's the first, Young can't be the standard by which all future, full-time female announcers are judged. Give another woman a chance. Plenty have made their living wrestling over the years, which means WWE has plenty of candidates to consider. They don't necessarily deserve a seat at the table, but they deserve a shot.
Also, get out the engraving machine--it's time to rename some title belts. The Universal Championship needs to become the Men's Universal Championship, to distinguish it from its new Raw counterpart, the Women's Universal Championship. Ditto SmackDown Live and it's WWE and Women's championships.
. . . Rumors abound that Evolution will become an annual event. The only way this wouldn't be a mistake would be for the company to admit--freely, on television, in continuity--that the event exists strictly as a politically correct counter-balance to the yearly Saudi Arabia cash grab no one can resist.
WWE boasts a Cruiserweight Division and Tag Team Divisions and, yes, Women's Divisions. So they can start mentioning the Men's Heavyweight Division too, right? Otherwise the perception is that being a male, heavyweight wrestler is the default, and every other type of performer is some sort of novelty act. It sounds pedantic, but it does matter.
And can we get some last names for the ladies? About one-third of the women on WWE's main roster are known solely by their first names. (Naomi . . . Natalya . . . Bayley . . . Paige. . . .) Compare that to the less than ten percent of men. Twenty years ago Bill Goldberg became a thousand times more badass by dumping his first name. And he would have become a million times less badass if he'd only been called "Bill." So why is Lana running around with no surname, especially when this faux Russian American married to a Bulgarian has so many options? Even female wrestlers who do have last names are often casually stripped of them, by WWE and its Universe alike. Which match are you most looking forward to at this weekend's Hell in a Cell event, Charlotte versus Becky, or Jeff versus Randy? A complete name denotes a complete person, someone with a history, a family, a real life. A female performer who only goes by her first name denotes a stripper. (For TSTW's significant stripper readership: There's nothing wrong with being a stripper--but for the longest time WWE seemed to regard much of its female talent as variations of a stripper, never capable of being much else.)
Finally, rumors abound that Evolution will become an annual event. The only way this wouldn't be a mistake would be for the company to admit--freely, on television, in continuity--that the event exists strictly as a politically correct counter-balance to the yearly Saudi Arabia cash grab no one can resist. Otherwise Evolution turns female wrestling into just another gimmick, like a pay-per-view full of extreme rules matches or tables, ladders, and chairs matches. The Revolution will only be won when WWE demonstrates the simple understanding that wrestling as a woman, being a woman, isn't a gimmick.
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