Community and pride through queer, feminist wrestling

When thinking about the heyday of TV wrestling in the 1980s and 1990s, feminism is probably not the first word that comes to mind. But Riot Grrrls Productions, a local performance company, has created a new flavour of pro wrestling that is queer, feminist, and completely out of the ordinary.

Having teamed with the West Coast League of Legendary Wrestlers, the Riot Grrrls hosted two sold-out wrestling shows Sunday evening that featured costumed wrestlers take to the ring, with campy comedy and floor-shaking body slams.

“Imagine an old-school WWF show, just without the misogyny,” said Vanny von Baron, the show’s organizer. “We use a lot of satire in our shows—we kind of embody toxic masculinity in a really comical way and flip it on its head.”

With a combined cast of drag queens, burlesque artists, and professional wrestlers, this show featured matches that leaned heavily into professional wrestling’s theatrical nature.

But this was no drag or burlesque show according to von Baron—the performers took their wrestler roles seriously, practising moves in their living rooms for months on end. This was their second time hosting a wrestling show like this, timed alongside Pride month events.

“You have the makeup and costume of the drag world, but this is a pro wrestling event with a proper ring, and people up on the ropes slamming each other around with extra comedy and extra pizzazz,” said von Baron. “The performers put a ton of effort and hours into prepping for this show and it shows on stage.”

Von Baron said the idea to host the show came out of a desire to “dive into some uncharted territory,” and create a version of pro wrestling that felt inclusive to those who identify as women or queer.

Riot Grrrls—whose name was inspired by the feminist, punk-rock movement that came out of Washington state in the 1990s—started as a burlesque troupe, but years ago morphed into a performance company for multiple mediums. Their work focuses on drag, poetry, and interactive dinner theatre. But wrestling was a new art form that was completely “out of [their] regular realm” of performances.

They first gave it a shot last year and received overwhelmingly positive reviews. They got help from two Island wrestling companies, 365 Pro Wrestling—who von Baron said stepped up in their allyship and supported the show from the get-go, donating a real wrestling ring, offering tech support, and lending a couple performers and an MC for the night—and the West Coast League of Legendary Wrestlers, who had shut down their own productions during COVID-19 but wanted to work with the Riot Grrrls on a special event. Due to popular demand after last year’s show, von Baron said they knew they needed to bring it back for an encore performance.

“We found nothing but support from the pro wrestling audience members who actually attended,” said von Baron, explaining there was a mixture of the usual Riot Grrrl audience and some dedicated wrestling fans in the crowd. “We felt so supported. The energy was great.

“I feel like this is like an industry, if you will, that is ready to be queerified.”

The energy from the crowd was palpable—by the end of each show, the audience was cheering, heckling, and singing along to the music.

“It’s great to be in a city where we as queer people have these safe spaces,” said Lee, who attended the show. “This has just been a night of pure fun and laughter, and being surrounded by queer joy is so heartwarming.”

While von Baron said the optimistic part of her hopes the show will be a yearly event, the effort that goes into hosting it is unlike other mediums.

“The rehearsal required for wrestling is 10 times more than any other performance art because of the risk of injury,” said von Baron.

For now, keep an eye out for Riot Grrrl’s next performance—it may not involve wrestling, but there will be plenty of alternative, campy theatre.

“We are weird. We're queer. And we're feminist,” said von Baron.

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