By Jennifer Howe

On a Saturday night in downtown Las Vegas, Main Street buzzes with energy; bars are packed, neon signs glow against the desert night, and music spills from open doors onto the sidewalk. But once a month, that energy takes on a different kind of charge inside Swandive, one of the city’s hottest small venues. That’s when PrideStyle Inclusive Pro Wrestling takes over, turning the nightlife hotspot into a roaring arena of body slams, sequins, and unfiltered queer joy. It’s not just a wrestling show, it’s a cultural phenomenon where theatrical violence meets radical inclusion, and where LGBTQ+ performers and their allies take center ring.

Photo of Zoe Dubois and Nic Zander by Rick R.L.

Founded in December 2021, PrideStyle has quickly carved out a place in the Vegas underground scene as a raucous, affirming, and deeply queer celebration of identity through the medium of pro wrestling. At its core, PrideStyle champions a radical mission: to create a “safe space for violence.” That may sound like a contradiction, especially in a sport built on body slams and steel chairs, but here, the violence is theatrical, consensual, and liberating. It’s a playground for catharsis. A ring where LGBTQ+, BIPOC, and other marginalized performers can embrace the fullness of their identity, out loud, in public, and in full glam.

Walking into Swandive on PrideStyle night is like stepping into an alternate dimension. What’s usually a low-lit bar and event space transforms into a raucous arena. A full-sized wrestling ring commands the center of the room, flanked on all four sides by tightly packed folding chairs. Lights blaze down from above. Fog machines hiss softly from the corners. The air smells faintly of sweat, beer, and anticipation.

The back of the venue buzzes with vendors and merchandise tables. You can find everything from PrideStyle-branded t-shirts and posters to handmade resin trays and crafts.

The crowd begins filtering in long before the opening bell. There are dyed mullets, leather harnesses, glittered cheeks, Pride flags, and couples of every gender constellation. It’s not just a queer crowd, it’s an intentionally inclusive one. Here, self-expression isn’t tolerated. It’s celebrated.

As the house lights dim and the first booming bass drop echoes through the speakers, I barely snag a seat before the opening segment kicks off. The crowd roars, standing as the first contenders enter the ring.

Wrestling Without Boundaries

PrideStyle’s cards typically feature 10+ matches over several hours, showcasing a rotating cast of local talent, regional stars, and surprise guests. What makes the promotion unique is not just its inclusivity, but its refusal to conform to wrestling’s traditional binaries.

From the very beginning, it’s clear that the fans are in on the story. They chant wrestler names, shout signature phrases, and toss in heckles like seasoned comedy club regulars. The femme-presenting ring announcer, Diana Sandoval, dressed in a black dress with colorful flowers, has a booming voice that grabs your attention. She introduces each fighter with flair. Every wrestler’s entrance is a mini-performance: smoke machines, LED lights, entrance music that rattles your chest. You’re not just watching, you’re inside the show.

What becomes immediately apparent is that PrideStyle isn’t just about wrestling, it’s about theater. And some of the best moments come when the action spills out of the ring and into the crowd.

The first time this happens, I’m caught off guard. A thud sounds to my right, and within seconds, the front few rows stand up, abandon their folding chairs, and move in unison, clearing a path. Wrestlers tumble into the seats, continuing their brawl on the concrete floor. Fans step aside with gleeful precision, whooping and filming with their phones. A chair goes flying. It’s chaos. But it’s choreographed chaos; the kind you can’t take your eyes off of.

And yet, within the mayhem, moments of tenderness peek through. A wrestler pauses mid-battle to wink at a fan. A heckler throws shade, only to be acknowledged with a knowing smirk from their favorite heel. There’s intimacy here, between crowd and performer, that’s rare in most sports entertainment.

A Celebration Amid Protest

In one of the night’s most memorable triple tag matches, Los Suavecitos faced off against Rush Hour and Mariachi Montana. The crowd’s energy surged as The Mariachi Montana Brothers entered the arena, resplendent in traditional mariachi-inspired wrestling gear, embroidered jackets, wide-brimmed sombreros, and draped Mexican flags.

But this match wasn’t just pageantry. Outside Swandive’s walls, an anti-immigration protest was making its way down the street, chants of “No ICE” echoing against the building’s façade. From inside, cheers erupted in response, not in opposition to the protest, but in solidarity with it. As the wrestlers raised the Mexican flag and the crowd clapped along to the beat of a corrido blasting through the speakers, it was clear: PrideStyle doesn’t just tolerate political expression, it thrives on it. This wasn’t escapism. It was confrontation with joy.

Chairs, Curses, and Chaos

Then came Chris Nasty vs. Sandra Moone, a match that would take the chaos to another level. From the opening bell, it was clear this wouldn’t be a tame contest. Moone and Nasty wasted no time, launching into each other with vicious, almost balletic ferocity.

Metal garbage cans, chairs, bats covered in teeth, wooden kabob sticks, and trash became tools of combat. At one point, Chris Nasty was hurled into the front row, where Sandra Moone followed, unrelenting. As they traded blows just feet away from me, a fan in the front row started screaming at Moone, loving every second. Without missing a beat, Moone whipped around, pointed at the fan, and shouted something unintelligible, until the fan mouthed, “I love you.” Moone’s face broke into a smirk. She blew a kiss and then resumed bashing Chris Nasty with a white folding chair.

The crescendo came when Moone laid Nasty across a makeshift table constructed from two folding chairs and a wooden door. She paused, soaking in the screams of the crowd, before driving him through the door, sending thumbtacks flying like glitter across the floor. The pinfall was almost an afterthought. The real victory was in the storytelling, the surprise, the perfect violence of it all.

The Black Swan Takes Flight

The night’s finale was as poetic as it was brutal. Zoe DuBois, aka “Black Swan,” took to the stage in a black dancer-inspired costume with tall boots and red accents, and her eye makeup mimicking Natalie Portman’s iconic look from the film Black Swan. She moved with eerie grace, pirouetting, extending long limbs in slow, haunting poses. The crowd was already on their feet.

As she entered the ring, the audience erupted into a frenzy. One man in front of me ripped off his shirt, spinning it above his head, chanting “Black Swan! Black Swan!” as if possessed. Paper streamers flew from every corner of the room, black and white crepe paper that rained down like confetti until the ring was a sea of ribbon.

Then entered the reigning champion: Nic Zander, tall and statuesque, draped in a long cloak, his gleaming title belt slung low over his pants and boots. The tension between them was palpable. This wasn’t just a title match. It was a clash of mythology.

What followed was an acrobatic, emotionally charged showdown that moved with the grace of a ballet and the force of a hurricane. Zoe bent herself backward into impossible contortions. Zander countered with brute strength and confidence. The crowd gasped and moaned with each twist and slam.

The final moment was pure theater: Zoe climbing to the top rope, arms raised like wings, the spotlight catching the glint of sweat on her brow. With a sudden flip, she launched herself into the air, crashing down on Zander in a triumphant finishing move. The three-count was fast and final.

Zoe DuBois stood victorious, hoisting the New Wave Championship belt as the crowd erupted. Confetti flew again. Fans cheered, and some simply stared in awe.

More Than Wrestling

PrideStyle Inclusive Pro Wrestling is more than just a night of entertainment. It’s a vital space for expression, for performers to be larger than life, and for audiences to see themselves reflected in those roles. It’s camp, chaos, combat, and care. It’s an act of resistance, built with glitter and bruises.
In a city known for spectacle, PrideStyle has carved out a niche that’s fiercely authentic, radically inclusive, and undeniably Las Vegas.

Whether you’re a lifelong wrestling fan or a curious newcomer, one thing is certain: you’ve never seen a wrestling match like this before.

This article was originally published in issue 7 of PROUD & Kinky Magazine. You may read it in its original format here.

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