Ever catch yourself cheering for a hero who later lets you down big time? For black wrestling fans, Hulk Hogan’s passing has tapped into a well of conflicted feelings that is as deep as the wrestling lore itself. It’s not simply a question of mourning a pop culture icon; it’s about coming to terms with the emotional rollercoaster of adoring a sport and a superstar who never really loved you back.
Kazeem Famuyide, co-presenter of “The Ringer Wrestling Show,” remembers those early days, sitting on his father’s lap, watching the TV as Hogan, the best “superhero,” stood before American flags and taught audiences to “train, say your prayers and eat your vitamins.” That experience was wholesome, powerful, and for so many, the gateway to a lifelong passion for wrestling. But as Famuyide put it, “You never really got the feeling that Hulk Hogan truly felt remorse.” When the news broke of Hogan’s death at 71, it didn’t summon up just nostalgia rather, it revived the old, unresolved contradiction: How do you celebrate a legend who also admitted, “I am a racist, to a point,” and was heard on tape uttering racial epithets?
The reaction throughout the wrestling community was split down the middle. Celebrities and other fans like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson celebrated Hogan’s larger-than-life character and how he “sold out every arena and stadium across the country in your prime as Hulk Hogan, on your way of becoming the greatest of all time.” There were others, especially Black commentators and fans, who were burnt by the betrayal once more. Bomani Jones, host of “The Right Time,” said it best: “This was never going to be one where people were going to mourn quietly.” For so many, the pain caused by Hogan’s words and actions never did heal, especially when his apology rang hollow and his later political allegiances made it even harder to reconcile.
But the irony isn’t just about Hogan it’s about wrestling. WWE has a grimy, complicated past of utilizing racist stereotypes and tropes in its programming. Freelance wrestling journalist Lyric Swinton remembered watching talented Black performers like Shelton Benjamin get relegated to jobs calling up unappealing caricatures. “I kind of felt like I had to check my Blackness at the door,” she stated. That is not rare. Wrestling’s vibrant storytelling has drawn upon outdated, hurtful stereotypes at times “mammy” figures, stereotypical accents, and tribal gimmicks, as chronicled in decades of wrestling history.
Although representation has improved, the past still haunts. Its largest platforms have seen everything from Vince McMahon yelling a racial epithet at someone on national television to angles where wrestlers chased Mexicans across the border or paraded Black wrestlers around as jokes or intimidating bullies. These moments aren’t artifacts they’re reminders that, in Master Tesfatsion’s words, “You cannot tell the history of America without all these issues, just like you cannot tell the history of the WWE without these issues.”
How then do Black fans remain enamored of a sport that so often refuses to wrestle with its own past? It’s an emotional contradiction ballet. Tesfatsion rationalized booing Hogan in his last bout, feeling a shot of pain and defiance but also remembering, “I still love America, I still love the WWE. It’s an emotional contradiction that I choose to deal with because I still find value in it.” This is not a reconciliation of ignoring the pain it’s about how to hold disappointment and joy in one hand, to demand more while still loving the memories that made you who you are.
What lies ahead isn’t about forgetting or forgiving without accountability. It’s about taking advantage of fandom to compel change. As the most recent science on sport and activism illuminates, fans have real power. Social media equips everyone with a megaphone with which to decry injustice, to celebrate success, and to advance actual representation. The Black Lives Matter movement, spurred by athlete activism, already has shaped discussion in sports ranging from the NFL to the NBA and beyond. In fact, about 69% of sporting fans support BLM, and 72% believe that sports professionals have a lot of influence regarding these issues.
For African American wrestling fans, this is a chance to lay claim, to honor the complicated heritage of heroes like Hogan without giving over their failures to history. It’s about wrestling enthusiastically, criticizing it candidly, and pushing the industry to make its words match its actions. Because while wrestling is as spectacle-driven as anything else it can be, it’s also about community and that community is strongest when it doesn’t leave its identity outside.
