Coming into my introduction to NXT as a fan excited for the new and progressive, I was attracted to the promotion’s roster of up-and-coming athletes who came from all levels of experience. While performers such as Sami Zayn, Adrian Neville, Tyler Breeze and Enzo Amore thrilled me with their athleticism and charisma, I was intrigued more by the whispers of a new kind of icon: Charlotte, the daughter of two- time WWE Hall-of-Famer Ric Flair.
By then, I was pretty tired of ho-humming my way through every Divas appearance. I was hoping that this single woman would revitalize my faith in an entire gender of performers. After all, I didn’t want to see the women of the main roster objectified and relegated to irrelevance any longer. Hell, I can go as far as saying that I was weary of thinking like a sexist; that women not only WOULDN’T, but that they just COULDN’T stack up in the ring with the boys. *Insert reference to Greg Valentine here*
So I bought into Charlotte’s earliest televised NXT appearances with apprehensive optimism. She had the body of a real female athlete, the charisma to do her lineage justice, and the technical prowess to put on a cringe-free five-minute contest. Still, what I initially failed to appreciate was that there was more brewing in the women’s roster beneath the “genetically superior” woman who “(does) it with Flair”.
There was Bayley, an adorable but seemingly harmless performer whose foundation, I thought, was an affable gimmick bordering on the cartoonish. She skipped to the ring adorned in streamers and colorful head bands, smiling and hugging her way around the audience amongst wacky-inflatable-arm-flailing- tube-men. In the ring, her moveset appeared limited in my skeptical eyes, but there was no denying her commitment and vibrant charisma.
Meanwhile, Sasha Banks was fighting to step out of Charlotte’s shadow. Fresh from separating from their “B.F.F.” partnership, Sasha was diminutive in stature but giant in attitude. Her skill-set was not yet entirely flushed out, and her matches at first resembled the fare that I had grown accustomed to. Even still, her poise and confidence was comparable only to Charlotte’s and she somehow set herself apart from even the main-roster Divas. She behaved like a superstar, not simply a beautiful Diva.
It was not long before I was insisting that we tune into the previous week’s NXT broadcast following every Monday Night Raw. I felt it was important for my friends to see the competitive, fast-paced, electric energy that the show’s performers were exuding – and that was in no small part to the three blossoming female artists.
The icing on the proverbial cake for me was the debut of a beautiful new character with a penchant for technical grappling. Portraying a tacky Irish stereotype, Becky Lynch emerged from the curtain with fiery energy and an ambiguous reputation as an “indy” performer who was well travelled and greatly experienced. This prompted me to conduct my own research and before long, I was defending Lynch’s evolving stock to my friends: “I know her gimmick is dinky, guys, but she knows her stuff… giver a chance… give her time”…
Little time was needed before the ladies were an obvious league of their own.
