Wrestling With Purpose
or how hard can I pile drive this point home
A few weeks ago I went to Freelance Wrestling at Logan Sq Auditorium. For those that don’t know, it’s amateur WWE style wrestling that happens monthly. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do since I moved to Chicago— 12 yrs ago. AND FINALLY I WENT!
It was raunchy— literally one dude “peed” into the mouth of another man and then he spit it back out at him! It was dramatic— a guy dragged his uncle out of the audience and beat him senseless with a metal chair. HIS UNCLE! And real blood was bled!
I grew up watching wrestling— the era of The Rock, Booker T, Stone Cold, Mankind. When it was like REALLY FUCKING GOOD. (It’s probably still really good but it had that early 2000’s sheen on it that just can’t be beat).
I enjoy wrestling because there is a pageantry to it. It’s pageantry inside of masculinity and it’s so fucking fun. It’s like drag but all of my aggressive interests. High level of performance and skill. But, a little blood and the gratifying sound of bodies being slammed onto a mat. Instead of lip-syncing and death drops it’s metal chairs and uncles getting their shit handed to them. But in all my years of watching wrestling I’ve never seen a queer person wrestle, ever.
The main event rolled around that night and you’ll never believe who walked out on that mat. Devon. Yes, Devon. Devon— a muscular but thinner, gay man. All night it had been beefy, muscular dudes and one round of women. WHICH AGAIN WERE ALL AMAZING! But. Devon. Oh my god, Devon.
He came out and brought every bit of himself to the show. He was cheeky, graceful, and demure. He brought his femininity into an extremely masculine space and held it with unbelievable power.
At one point he had the dude he was wrestling in a leg grip and made it look like he was eating his ass! I absolutely lost my shit. Afterwords, I went up, thanked him —as blood was trickling down his nose — and felt so seen I teared up a little bit. (For those that don’t know— I don’t cry. So when I feel gratitude and express it to a stranger I end up crying. It’s my cosmic burden to bear).
It felt so ethereal to feel represented in a space that I have loved forever, and for Devon to walk on to that mat with his head held high and a wink in his eye (BARS).
Admittedly, Devon moves like air. See video for cold hard proof.
So, he probably has some background in dance or athletics. But, at some point he was probably really good at one thing—- realized he wanted to wrestle and had to change course and dive into unknown murky waters.
Recently, I’ve been feeling annoyed. I’m watching a lot of art where people are too afraid to fully go for it. It’s this like ‘I’m not gonna fully try’ protective measure so that if they’re judged they can be like, “whatever, you just didn’t get it.” And it makes sense! Because there is a real vulnerability to bringing your whole self into a dream or a desire, and fucking going for it.
WHAT IN THIS WORLD IS SCARIER THAN ADMITTING YOU LOVE SOMETHING, BEING ASS AT IT BUT STILL CONTINUING TO TRY BECAUSE YOU KNOW/HOPE YOUR TASTE AND SKILL WILL ONE DAY MATCH UP!?!?!
The little kid in all of us is screaming!
Could you imagine if Devon hadn’t? I wouldn’t be here right now writing my weird little thing. And maybe my weird little thing will inspire your weird little thing.
But, I hope today—for you and me— we don’t get stuck on the desire 1000 steps ahead of us. Instead, figure out the step right in front of you and keep putting one foot in front of the other. (But also don’t forget you are already living your dream life— cause legit… your ass might die tomorrow)
And if that feels like too much. Just watch the clips of Devon again and buy a ticket to Freelance Wrestling—so you can see it for yourself.