Queer and Proud in the Wrestling Ring

Two years ago, pro wrestler Rosie Fingers (Jetta Rae Robertson) was searching for a lifeline. Suffering from housing insecurity, the trans performer began seeing personal trainer Amira Lukens for a half hour each week to cultivate some stability.

Fast-forward to early September, and the two found themselves foes, staring each other down in the wrestling ring at the nightclub Fluid510 in Uptown Oakland. At the end of their heated main event match, with Lukens on the receiving end of a short piledriver, the crowd cheered as Fingers was declared winner by the customary “1-2-3” count.

This was not your average pro wrestling night. Titled Moonlight, after director Barry Jenkins’ landmark Oscar-winning queer film, the event was jointly produced by independent promotion West Coast Pro Wrestling and queer wrestling advocacy outfit Full Queer.

Full Queer came to be in June 2021 with the idea of smashing the gender binary by crowning as champions those free from gender division and norms. Its mission is to celebrate queer wrestlers, fans and allies — and the parallels are easy to see between the garish outfits and in-your-face drama of pro wrestling and drag culture.

“I don’t think queer people were getting the opportunities they deserved” in pro wrestling, wrestler-founder Marco Mayur explained to KQED. “I don’t think women were getting the opportunities they deserved, the respect that they deserved.”

Mayur aimed to provide those opportunities, first by introducing the PrinceX of Pride title (currently held by performer Richie Coy). Subsequent championships built upon the idea, with the Lonestar title and the Harvey Milk and Sylvester tag team championship. Full Queer kept the momentum going with its first appearance at the Folsom Street Fair in 2022, and continues to find new ways to highlight and honor the LGBTQ+ community.

In August, its wrestlers battled in outdoor matches at the El Cerrito Library and read to kids, reminiscent of the drag story hours that have caused right-wing hysteria. The Moonlight event in September raised funds for Oakland to All, a support network for ballroom performers, who strutted along the ring ropes to kick off the show. After condoms were thrown to the crowd, the first match started – a battle royale named for Glenn Burke, the former Oakland A’s outfielder and first MLB athlete to come out as gay.

“They call [professional wrestling] ‘the business,’ but I’ve always said Full Queer is not in the business, we’re in the movement” for LGBQT+ rights, said Fingers, who is also Full Queer’s co-promoter. “We always try to think of how to utilize wrestling in a way that benefits and serves the movement.”

The fact is that pro wrestling has always been queer (look no further than pioneering television character “Gorgeous” George). But the industry has largely been run by straight men (notably, alleged sex trafficker Vince McMahon), who have programmed insensitive or outright homophobic storylines.

The independent boom of the 2010s brought more voices into the arena, both live and online. Those include the long-running Oakland institution Hoodslam promoted by trans performer Dark Sheik, and other performer-promoters like indie sensation Effy. At the global level, WWE’s well-monied rival All Elite Wrestling promoted trans wrestler Nyla Rose as its women’s champion, as well as queer stars such as champions “Timeless” Toni Storm and Anthony Bowens and fan favorite Willow Nightingale.

For undercard wrestler Jess Reina Capablanca (Domino Moon), being a trans performer center stage invites viewers — who even in 2025 may never have met a trans person — to see trans people as stars and equals, who deserve their place just like anyone else.

“It was pretty obvious, on a top-down systemic level, that the ‘top’ of the mountain peak [in pro wrestling] was a really fucked up place, and a place I don’t particularly care to be,” said Capablanca. “But then when I found Full Queer, I realized there’s actually a home for me in this scene, in this world, not just a place where I can work.”

As announcer Jackie Orange, Jack Lowery’s job on the mic is to add context to the wrestlers putting their bodies on the line to entertain. “We’re going after the queer community to tell them, ‘Hey, Drag Race and wrestling is pretty much the same thing,’” he said, “‘and I think you would really like this.’”

Rooting for or jeering wrestlers is part of the fun of pro wrestling events. But Full Queer cultivates an environment where crucially, that energy is focused toward the wrestler’s character in the storyline — not attacking the performer for who they are in real life.

“Punk is letting the world kick you down but getting back up over and over. It’s the same with drag. It’s the same with wrestling,” said Fingers. “All of that art has aesthetic differences on the surface, but they’re all about refusing to stay down.”

Full Queer returns to the Folsom Street Fair in San Francisco on Sunday, Sept. 28, and hosts a day of wrestling at Petaluma Pride in Petaluma on Saturday, Oct. 11.