EPISODE 15 LAST WOMAN STANDING

Charlotte and I were on our way to Evolution. The final chapter in the book. Not actually the final chapter of this book, the metaphorical book, if you will. You know what I’m trying to say.

Anyways, they wanted me to powder (leave the ring to get away from my opponent) and cheat and do all the classic heel things. Though they didn’t want me to be a heel, or a face, or an in-betweener. They didn’t know what they wanted. But I knew what I wanted. I wanted to be the best. And so I took their direction and did it to the best of my ability. Any holes in their logic I would try to clarify on social media or in interviews.

Charlotte and I had, at the time, the longest women’s match in SmackDown history, ending in me being speared through the LED board after I got purposefully counted out so I wouldn’t lose my title, leading to us having a last woman standing match at Evolution.

Neither of us had ever been in a last woman standing match, but the understanding was that these matches could be hard. You don’t have standard false finishes such as pinfalls and kick-outs or submissions.

But I wanted this to be the best match of my career (side note, I want every big match to be the best match of my career).

We got to Long Island early. As the first all-women’s PPV, this was a big deal and they wanted to give us the best chance of success by practicing the matches a day in advance. Because of the lack of women on the main roster, they had to rely on bringing back women from the past and calling up talent from NXT to fill out the card. So it was likely beneficial to all parties to have rehearsals.

I, in a side note, didn’t necessarily love that we were having an all-women’s PPV. It was viewed as a female empowerment thing, but I’ve always wanted equality. They wouldn’t be able to get away with purposefully advertising an “all-men’s PPV”—that would be seen as archaic, or segregationist. Of course, at the time, they actually were forced to have “all-men’s” PPVs as we had just started to run shows in Saudi Arabia and women were not yet allowed to wrestle over there. But in a way, to me, it felt counterproductive that we should grovel over being allowed to have our own PPV. For me, it’s much more impactful for us to outnumber men’s matches on a standard PPV, because there are that many good female-driven story lines. Or to main event the PPVs because we’re that good and the audience cares so much that nothing can follow us. I didn’t want special treatment. I wanted equal treatment. Equal opportunity.

Although when I did an interview with TMZ they asked me, “Do you think people will tune in and watch? Because don’t they usually like story lines?” as if women were still relegated to having pillow fights in their underwear.

I knew we had to make this PPV extra special.

Mine and Charlotte’s story was easily the best one on TV and the mentality that was stuck back in the fifties of us merely being there as a special attraction really ground my gears. To be fair, I say “the fifties,” but I was looking at a poster from 2014 the other day that said: “Come see Seth Rollins, Big E, Jack Swagger, The Miz, The Big Show and the WWE Divas.”

And it sickened me. There was that special attraction shit. That lump-us-all-into-one-category shit. That don’t-even-call-us-by-our-names-’cause-you-don’t-think-we-can-draw shit. That tits-and-ass shit.

And that was only a year before I got called up to the main roster.

I want to be viewed for the work I do. I want gender out of the picture. And not because I don’t like being a woman, but because it shouldn’t matter if I am one.

Where was I? Oh yes, this historic all-women’s PPV.

We got to the building that day with a lot of ideas but nervous about how to deliver to match people’s expectations.

We started talking about table spots and chair spots, guardrails and ladders and kendo sticks. The ring was still being put up, so we pulled the guy who handles all the props aside, giving him the laundry list of what we needed for the match and where we would like it to be placed.

“We don’t have any of those things,” the props guy, Mark Shilestone, warned us.

“Eh, what?” I responded in disbelief.

“No one told us we needed them,” Shilestone confessed.

“It’s a last woman standing match,” Charlotte added.

“This is the biggest match on the card; how did no one know to get weapons for it?” I chimed back in, a bit egotistical here, but, hey, it was true.

“I have no idea. But what exactly do you need?” he offered helpfully.

“Chairs,” Charlotte started.

“We have five, I think,” Shilestone volunteered.

“We need about thirty,” I insisted.

“Shit,” said Shilestone.

“We need the wall set up so she can spear me through it,” I went on.

“There’s no walls; it’s just guardrails.”

“Fuck.” Charlotte scowled.

That spot was out.

“Ladders?” I asked.

“We don’t have any,” Shilestone said, letting us down.

“Tables?” Charlotte quipped.

“Nope.”

“Kendo sticks,” I joined in.

“We have some of them,” Shilestone confirmed, relieved.

So there was that.

Luckily, we were only an hour away from WWE’s warehouse, and because we had gotten to the building uncharacteristically early, it gave them ample time to get the hell out and get what we needed.

I was insulted. Even with the hoopla of this historic event, the attention to detail on their biggest story flew under the radar.

Charlotte and I, who were very civil throughout this whole process, got to work around the provisions we had now. There were several gaps we would be figuring out until almost bell time, but we were sure we had a banger on our hands.

We were the second-to-last match of the card. The main event was going to Ronda Rousey and Nikki Bella.

In my mind that was both misguided and brilliant. Not that Nikki and Ronda wouldn’t be able to put on a great match, but there was no way that they could compete with the level of match we would have. We had a story that was years and years in the making. Plus, we had weapons, which always makes it more exciting.

But not getting the main event would seem like we were being screwed by the company again. And the fans wouldn’t be too happy with that.

Although it did put a lot of pressure on the other girls.

It ended up being one of my favorite matches I’ve ever had. It was the first time maybe since I got to WWE that I felt completely present in the ring. I was receptive to the amazing Long Island crowd, not thinking ahead to the next spot or where my opponent should be. (I often keep an eye on less experienced talent to make sure they’re in the right position.) Charlotte is so good that I didn’t need to, as I trust her completely. We both talked to each other the whole way through the match to ensure everyone was on the same page.

I was also only getting used to being in a position on the card where I was trusted to have big matches and big stories.

But as Charlotte and I can always be trusted to do, we beat the hell out of each other. I jumped off the top of a ladder, leg-dropping her through a table and landing with all my weight on her stomach. That she didn’t actually shit herself there is a strong testament to her abdominal muscles.

I piled every piece of apparatus I could find on her—shards of broken tables, chairs, announcer table chairs, anything that wasn’t glued down—and sat back in delight as I waited for the ten count.

Eight, nine, and like a zombie she resurrected herself from the rubble. Only she just got to her knees and let out a T. Rex–esque roar.

Fuck, I thought.

Was the ref going to eliminate her? Technically, she was meant to get to her feet, but I don’t think she was entirely clear on the exact rules of the stipulation. Charlotte is a very intuitive wrestler and so this felt like the most natural thing for her. But technically, she wasn’t standing, so technically, it should have been over.

The ref let it slide. Phew! We had more stuff to do!

She came at me with kendo sticks like swords in her hands and beat me mercilessly.

(As an aside: Those kendo sticks don’t look like much sometimes, but they hurt like hell. Unless you’re me, who has my body mostly covered up, so I’ll take a beating with them all day long. On bare skin, however? Excruciating.)

We got to the crescendo. She had me left for dead on a table on the outside and went up to the top turnbuckle as if to moonsault onto me. Rookie mistake. With my last bit of energy I climbed up and power-bombed her through the tables down below.

Eight, nine, ten.

I had retained my title and I had had a blast.

We came back to standing ovations and hugged and thanked each other. The spark of a friendship that might be able to recover. Especially if this truly was to be the end of the story line. I could go on to harass someone new.

After the last match, there was a curtain call where all the wrestlers went out to the stage to celebrate the success of the night. I tried to avoid it. I thought it would compromise the integrity of the match Charlotte and I had, to see us out there side by side. Or even standing after the brutality we had put each other through. Alas, I was pushed through the curtain while battling in my head whether or not going out might be an insult to the girls who had worked so hard.

I also believed that all of us going out was somewhat condescending to us. They wouldn’t throw out the guys’ story lines like this and pull back the curtain, so why do it to us?

Regardless, there I stood. Not smiling like the babyface of yesteryear. Just trying my best to keep my character intact in the midst of my own personal turmoil about the matter.