These trans wrestlers put their own spin on masculinity

At less than 1% of the American population, they punch above their weight class when it comes to taking up space in public discourse. In Los Angeles, the demand for a night like this was so steep that the event quickly sold out. A second night with more performers was announced and it sold out, too. This past Saturday was only the second time Trans Dudes of LA featured a showcase like this, but there are dates for New York and San Francisco already set up. 

Duos engaged in everything from classic American wrestling to acrobatic delights to sexy pillow fights in pj’s. They staged psychodramas, mixed fighting with strip teases, dressed up in drag and made the latent homoeroticism of WWE wrestling overt. They wore furry animal tails, lucha libre masks and superhero costumes. They carried acrylic plastic paddles with cross etchings, picnic baskets and whips.

The participants were mostly trans men — though there were competitors across the gender spectrum — and they joined from all walks of life: waiters, go-go dancers, accountants, DJs, artists and high school teachers.

Marco Miller and August Shapiro, the duo with the picnic basket, pranced on stage in short shorts and tiny tank tops. They brought everything they needed for a perfect picnic: a blanket, snacks, even candles. They stretched a bit, sat down to the cheers of a raucous crowd, opened their drinks and toasted.

Then, the true performance began: They took out vials of “T” (testosterone, the hormone therapy many trans men inject), pointed the needles up and the bottles down, drew the medication and tapped the syringe for air bubbles. A remix of Elton John’s “Rocket Man” played, and the crowd popped off as the two men sterilized body parts (Miller on his stomach, Shapiro on his thigh), toasted for a second time with their syringes and then injected. They put the needles in a sharps disposal container (safety first) and tossed the empty vials into the adoring crowd.

“It’s a dream come true just to see this out in the open,” said Mack Beggs, one of the five judges presiding over T Boy Wrestling 2.0. Beggs is a former teen wrestling star from Texas who was at the eye of a legislative and political storm when — after being denied the ability to join the boys team — he won the girls state championship in his weight class two years in a row.

The event was organized by Adam Bandrowski and Mich Miller, two L.A.-based artists and founders of Trans Dudes of LA. 

“We wanted to move away from a support-group model to highlight artists and makers in the community,” Miller said.

Bandrowski added, “We don’t have to talk about being trans, we can just hang out.”

For Cal Dobbs, a high school teacher and trans activist, it was a chance to get creative. He performs as The Devil’s Advocate. “What’s the most toxically masculine person I can think of?” Dobbs asked. “The dude-bro with salmon shorts.”

Dobbs faced off with Cowboy Blvck, a DJ, chef and performer who said they felt their identity as a Black trans androgynous person “incredibly affirmed” when they put on their first pair of chaps.

“My drag is being a cowboy,” Blvck said.

Dobbs’ loss to Cowboy Blvck was both histrionic and homoerotic. Blvk pulled down Dobbs’ salmon shorts to reveal tighty-whities that said “Trust Fund Baby.” Blvck then feigned punches that left Dobbs covered in fake blood.

The crowd booed when Dobbs’ villainous “dude-bro” persona had the cowboy on their back for a moment, and ultimately cheered as the cowboy beat the kind of entitled frat boy everyone in the crowd loved to hate.

Performer Claude Grossi said he always wanted to wrestle as a kid. 

“My brothers wrestled in high school and college, but my parents never let me. ‘Oh, we don’t want our little girl getting hurt,’” Grossi recalled his parents saying.  

Like many of the performers there that night, Grossi said that acceptance from family and friends is layered: They might feel loved as individuals but not accepted as trans men. 

“They’re accepting in their own way,” Cornelius Vango, who performs as Soft Hands, said of their grandparents, who live in rural Minnesota. 

They still use she/her pronouns for Vango, they said, but they treat Vango “like a dude.” 

“You pick your battles,” Vango said, holding a hotel-sized bottle of expensive Aesop lotion. To keep their hands soft, of course.

Vango entered the ring dressed as a construction worker and then stripped down to black lingerie.

He is scrappy and could likely take his opponent down, but said he might throw the match in exchange for the crowd’s love and laughter as he fake falters. He’s more agile than many able-bodied male wrestlers in his weight class. He has a prosthetic foot, but even in a wrestling context, it’s not what he leads with. Watching him move, you understand why he doesn’t need to.

After all, the entire point of the evening was that for once, Vango and the other participants there got to pick their battles.