Mariam Jobrani’s documentary on “The Fighting Cholitas” was fascinating, and deeply captivating in its personal, authentic and unique portrayal of a cultural instance where sport seems to erode divisive gendered boundaries, and empower those whose voices are too often marginalized. The fact that this was something I had never heard of, and I presume the same for most others in our class, speaks to the role the documentary has played in opening up parameters for what traditionally defines a sport still so male-dominated like lucha libre. The women who were interviewed spoke with conviction and pride for their wrestling identities, whether they consider themselves to be in the ‘tecnicas’, ‘rudas’ or ‘amoradas’ categories- a nod to the empowering role the sport seems to bring to their identities as Indigenous women, or Cholitas. I feel as though there is a connection between these distinct identities, almost characters they have assumed, and one of the women’s comments on how the matches are “80 percent real and 20 percent show.” Show or reality, or both, the Cholitas’ skirts, and their refusal to remove them during their fights, is powerfully symbolic. The skirts in this documentary serve more than material function for these women, they serve a function of identity. Cholitas’ skirts are reiterated in this documentary, both visually and verbally, as integral parts of Indigenous identity and culture. 

Further, it must be acknowledged how, through lucha libre, the fighting Cholitas are ultimately redefining cultural and social notions of femininity. I was struck by the way in which the sport gave these women both external and internal motivation and praise for something beyond traditional boundaries and expectations limiting female identities. Yolanda hoping for her own daughter to become a professional like herself seemed to demonstrate this relationship between motherhood, a gendered role women are expected to fulfill, and the challenging of those expectations.

Lastly, what I found quite intriguing was not only the role lucha libre seemed to play in the lives of the Cholitas, but the role it was playing for the community and spectators. The cholitas, in acknowledging a performative dimension of the sport, highlighted its attraction to those who attend the matches as viewers. As quoted in the other reading for this week, Margarita de Orellana’s “Lucha libre: Stories with no Time Limit”, the ring or “arena offers a space where a marginalized public finds a way to vent about the discrimination and shortages it experiences in everyday life, and this experiences a catharsis” (95). It was fascinating to hear how the Cholitas, themselves, recognized how their matches provided a form of relief, laughter, and escape from life’s stress for the women who watch them. 

Overall, what are your thoughts on the role the Fighting Cholitas play in redefining notions of femininity? Do they? What cultural significance does this have within the context of lucha libre?