Posts tagged wwf
The Rock Got Me Through My Teens

The Rock is my favorite wrestler. I’ve come to this conclusion after much deliberation. He’s on a short list alongside CM Punk, Bret Hart, Sami Zayn, Stone Cold Steve Austin, and Mick Foley. It’s not hard to figure out why The Rock is my favorite. His ascent to WWF super stardom (and beyond) perfectly coincided with my adolescence. In those precious and impressionable years, he provided a respite from turmoil and angst. I would look forward to Raw and SmackDown every week in intense anticipation of what he might say and on whom he might layeth the smacketh down. Every new catchphrase was a significant event. Every gesture or subtle motion of his body was worthy of imitation.

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The Road To Better Representation Of Asians At WrestleMania

On January 28th, 2018, two performers of Japanese descent, Shinsuke Nakamura and Asuka, won their respective Royal Rumble matches. 

This was a defining moment both in pro-wrestling history, and in my personal pro-wrestling fandom.

When you’re an ethnic minority, growing up a pro-wrestling fan presents a challenge. 

Pro-Wrestling's xenophobic roots result in the depiction of ethnic minorities as the heels (villains) opposite the "All-American" babyfaces (heroes). We are represented by racial caricatures and stereotypes that are designed to emphasize one’s foreignness. It’s a constant reminder that we are the “other”; that the way we look, the way we sound, the way we act inevitably elicits boos.

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The Magic Of Wrestling Action Figures

I held Anakin Skywalker in my hands, and I felt nothing. 

For the first time in my life, an action figure wasn’t anything more than a piece of cheap plastic. His poorly molded head stared up at me, devoid of magic. His unarticulated arm was stiff so that a lightsaber would go in and out the hilt extending from his hand, making it appear as though the blade could be turned on and off; the kind of gimmick I always hated even as a little kid. Toys with “Chop action!” buttons, bells, and whistles assumed I didn’t have an imagination. His fixed pose felt like an insult to my intelligence.

My mom sat next to me in the car, watching me open two more figures inspired by Attack of the Clones: a similarly stiff Obi-Wan Kenobi and a tiny Padme Amidala. We were in the parking lot of Wal-Mart, our custom during these sacred action figure openings.

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