My love for pro wrestling started when I was a young boy. Every Monday night after I ate dinner, I would settle in in the middle of the living room to watch The Rock and Triple H, larger-than-life gladiators, square off on Monday Night Raw. My favorite, of course, was the Rock. As he made his way down the ring, I would mimic everything, from his walk to his signature eyebrow raise.
I revered these men as the epitome of what it meant to be a man: strong, charismatic and stoic. They were impenetrable figures, and I wanted to be just like them.
But I also remember the first time I saw a pro wrestler cry. It was the Monday Night Raw program after the news broke that wrestling legend Eddie Guerrero passed away in 2005. I sat on the floor in my living room, as always, but this time they didn’t have a regular show. The wrestlers paid tribute to Guerrero by sharing fond memories of him. I particularly remember another favorite wrestler of mine, Batista, ball his eyes out.
In that moment I saw those wrestlers, those larger-than-life men, differently. They were people who were grieving. How lucky I was to see them — unafraid to show their feelings to a national TV audience. Not often are men seen on TV, let alone in public, showing emotion, much less crying.
A trip to the movies reinforced my advocacy for expressing emotion.