JAKE’S TAKE: FRIDAY NIGHT FIGHTS

Dec. 9, 2021 OPINIONS 7

Pro wrestling, the world’s strangest art form, recently came back to town

Jacob Politte MANAGING EDITOR

Before I get into the real meat of this piece, a bit of background is probably needed.

For the longest time that I can remember, I’ve been a fan of pro wrestling. The earliest memory I have of watching it on television came when I turned on WWE Monday Night Raw when I was 7 years old, but my mom tells me I was watching it even before then.

She also told me around that time that none of it was real, which I think was her way of discouraging me from watching it; that plan of hers didn’t work at all. Ever since that fateful night in August 2003 when I watched the daredevil son of a billionaire kick the closest thing to Michael Myers west of the Mississippi into a literal dumpster fire, I’ve been hooked. That last sentence isn’t a typo: that’s something that I actually saw happen on television. When I was 7 years old. Explains a lot, I guess.

Pro wrestling is the most absurd thing ever broadcast. Objectively, it’s stupid. But it’s stupid in the best way: it’s legitmately fun. Some people will say “It’s just a bunch of dudes in underwear who fake fight each other” and that’s not exactly true... some of them wear pants. But if you set aside any preconceived notions and allow yourself to believe in the magical aura, you’d be surprised by how much one can get caught up in the action.

As I grew up with WWE though, something happened: it didn’t grow up with me. For reasons that are far too extensive to recap in an opinion’s section of a college newspaper, I’ll just paraphrase it: WWE has continued to largely dumb down it’s product over the years. As I grew up more and more, WWE’s version of pro wrestling seemingly did the closest thing to a Benjamin Button and aged in reverse. The in-ring athleticism from the competitors evolved into something incredible to watch… but everything other than that was dreadful to consume and dragged their performances down a few notches. It was childish. As a fan of the product, it just wasn’t exciting. It wasn’t even a decent way to waste time.

Since the turn of the century, WWE has been the only significant big player in the industry. It’s become a global juggernaut that has become too big to ever be stopped; the revenue from the organization’s televised (and often controversial) Saudi Arabia shows alone are more than enough to carry the company through the next decade. And despite the fact that the company is literally making insane amounts of

money despite not even trying, they’ve cut over 80 wrestlers this year alone, in the midst of a pandemic. It’s an extremely depressing time to be a WWE fan.

Enter All Elite Wrestling (AEW). Created by the owners of the NFL’s Jacksonville Jaguars, and overseen by Tony Khan himself, the promotion has quickly become the biggest alternative and competitor to WWE since 2001. In just under three years, the promotion earned a prime-time slot on cable channel TNT, signed really big names to contracts (including some names that wrestling fans thought they’d never see on such a big stage, or ever again for that matter), and are regularly selling out venues in every city they visit.

I’ve watched AEW since the beginning, and my criticisms are not extensive. They seem to be doing everything right, and that’s why I was stoked to see a show of theirs live and in person. The pandemic delayed it 17 months, but on Friday, Nov. 5, I finally got that chance.

It was well worth the wait.

Wrestling can be extremely fun if you just allow yourself to believe, and if the people around you do too. AEW shows, by and large, are really fun to watch on TV. Being at one live is somehow even more fun. As a fan, you feel like your patience and intelligence is not only appreciated, but rewarded.

The enthusiasm coming out of this show is infectious, and I’d much rather be infected by the enthusiasm that Tony Khan has for his roster and his show than any virus. No matter how old I get, I hope this pro wrestling company continues to be this fun.

GENEVA LEE NEWS EDITOR

On Friday, Aug. 26, 2016, thenState Representative Steven Roberts allegedly drugged and raped thenState Representative Cora Faith Walker (Post-Dispatch). On April 18, 2015, Steve Roberts was arrested for second-degree sodomy after thenSt. Louis University law student Amy Harms said, “no,” and he allegedly ignored her (Post-Dispatch). On Nov. 11, 2021, now-State Senator Steven Roberts had a fundraiser attended by over a dozen democratic state senators and representatives, who served on his host committee, and he has posted job offers for his U.S. Congressional Race, which he is expected to officially announce next week. Today, Wednesday, Nov. 17, 2021, seeing all of this, I stopped working, I went into my pitch-black basement, put a blanket over my head, and stared into the dark for three hours, playing out memories and scenarios repeatedly, wishing I would fall asleep. My muscles and bones were gray clouds in descent.

I know firsthand what it feels like to not have people believe that the worst thing that has ever happened to you actually happened. I am a survivor of sexual harassment and assault, and as horrific as those experiences were—seven years later, I still have nightmares—what was truly worse was the doubt. A few years after, someone told me that my best friend had gone around and said, quote, “I think Geneva is making it all up,” and I found out she actually dated the rapist in secret behind my back. One cannot understand the devastation, its persistence, and the death I’m forced to live every day from her fracture of my love and trust.

I know what it is like to have people not believe you. I know what it is like to have all of my actions and decisions questioned, to even question myself and sanity. What it is like to still think of your abusers multiple times every. single. hour. To subconsciously scan all the people in a crowd to look for Them, fearing that They’re there. To pray for the courage to die by my own hand. To crumble when they smile and find success while you choke in the consequences of their actions. To see people who know what happened decide it isn’t a dealbreaker-acceptable--and these friends of yours go on vacation, live with, and have fun with your abusers. I couldn’t even say his name for six years.

Cora Faith, I know how you feel. I know the pain with which you live. I work in politics, and our circles overlap. Many of the people who were at the fundraiser last week were your colleagues and mine. They were people for whom I have volunteered literally hundreds of hours, given money, even considered my friends. Mentors I looked up to. Who gave me hope in bleak times that there were people going to bat for me and everyone, really trying to make things better. These people came out, smiled, and clapped for an alleged rapist.

I must stand with Cora and Amy because when these politicians clapped for Roberts, they clapped for my abusers, for every rapist, harasser, and their supporters, and they told victims that they don’t care about us. We victims are one: an attack on one of us is an attack on all of us. We live in solidarity. Many politicians even had the audacity to call the people who believe Cora racist, while ignoring their own racist irony of calling Black women liars.

This is the nature of sexual assault. Given that sex, unlike homicide or battery, can be consensual, it is incredibly difficult to prove a violation has occurred. I have heard some say that what Steve allegedly did to Cora was “just” an allegation, but every rape is “just” an allegation. They poke holes in stories, and Cora’s sexual history has been picked apart by half of Missouri at this point, her friends, colleagues, reporters, random people, me, weighing judgement she never asked for. And regardless of surrounding circumstances, consent education taught me that a person can even actively be having sex with someone, and if they decide they don’t want to do it anymore and say “stop,” and the other person keeps going, that is rape. And that applies for anyone, no matter how virginal or sex-positive a person is. Even if the story is “unbelievable,” survivors are survivors, rape is rape. Yet attackers are innocent until proven guilty, and victims are guilty of lies until they can prove otherwise. But when the evidence is only our word against theirs, we will always be the ones who sin.

For those that rebuke Cora and Amy: Do you believe Cora and Amy are liars, or do you think they’re telling the truth and just don’t care?

The Missouri Democratic Party and the Missouri State Senate should censure State Senator Steven Roberts. Instead, the Democrats have chosen to protect Roberts and castigate and demonize a rape survivor. Rather than admit wrong, party members have doubled down and grossly defended themselves, as though supporting birth control entitles one to rub shoulders with rapists. In 2018, Republicans voted against Roy Moore after he was accused of statutory rape, electing a Democratic Senator in the heavily-red Alabama, yet the Missouri Democratic Party, the party purportedly of womxn’s rights, of civil rights, gender equality, has chosen to rally against rape victims.

Roberts should have already been censured.

I believe Cora Faith Walker. I believe Amy Harms. I believe Black women. I believe women, non-binary individuals, men who are victims of sexual assault, children. I believe me.

Do you?