Behind the Curtain: Wrestling’s Crisis of Performer Safety and Human Trafficking Awareness
By Brian Zilem
Special to POST Wrestling
Professional wrestling has always been a house of mirrors— where reality twists into performance. But when spectacle collides with real-world abuse, the reflection cracks. Behind the lights and storylines, the industry operates without the basic safeguards that protect people in nearly every other field: no HR, no reporting structure, and no independent oversight. That vacuum allows power to go unchecked and silence to become policy.
Part I – The Myth of Trafficking
“Trafficking is misunderstood,” said Marcy Alonzo, director of the Central Texas Coalition Against Human Trafficking (CTCAHT). “Pop culture makes it look like abduction or handcuffs—a Taken-style scenario. In reality, most victims have a relationship with their trafficker.”
Alonzo’s coalition trains first responders, schools, and social-service agencies across Austin and Travis County. Her work dismantles the cinematic myth to reveal something harder to confront: exploitation built on trust, power, and dependency.
“Trafficking is a pattern of control,” she said. “It’s someone leveraging another person’s vulnerability—financial, emotional, or professional—to gain power over them.”
That dynamic isn’t limited to street corners or hidden brothels. It exists anywhere people rely on gatekeepers to pursue their dreams. Wrestling—with its patchwork of schools, handshake deals, and unregulated locker rooms—mirrors those same vulnerabilities.
Alonzo said one of the simplest but most important principles is to start by believing. “When someone discloses harm, your first job isn’t to doubt—it’s to listen,” she said. “That’s where prevention begins.”
Part II – When Power Turns to Danger
Independent wrestler Raychell Rose knows how quickly admiration can become a threat. During her time at Reality of Wrestling, the Houston-based promotion owned by Booker T and Sharmell Huffman, a fellow trainee—someone she barely knew beyond casual pleasantries—convinced himself they were in a relationship. His obsession escalated into stalking, threats, and ultimately bringing a gun to a show.
Rose reported the behavior to leadership, including Kevin Bernhardt, who functions as Reality of Wrestling’s head of talent relations. According to Rose, her concerns were dismissed. “I did what you’re supposed to do,” she said. “I told leadership. I tried to handle it through the right channels. But there weren’t any real channels.”
Rather than removing the threat, she was blamed for “bringing drama” and faced retaliation for speaking up. “When I spoke up, I wasn’t part of the ‘family’ anymore.”
Her account was first reported by Fightful, whose coverage helped bring attention to her experience and the broader issue of performer safety in independent wrestling.
“The aftermath was quiet in all the wrong ways,” she said. “People were ready to say, ‘That’s bad, that shouldn’t happen,’ but then nothing changed. You realize the business just moves on.”
Her story highlights a system where survivors risk everything—career, reputation, income—while abusers often face no consequence. With wrestlers classified as independent contractors, there’s no HR department, no whistle-blower protection, and no neutral investigator.
“People stay quiet because speaking up means losing work,” Rose said. “If you want to keep wrestling, you keep your head down.”
The absence of structure turns safety into a matter of personality—who believes you, who doesn’t, and whether those in charge value confrontation over convenience.
Part III – Inside the Locker Room
The independent promoter I spoke with asked to remain anonymous so the focus could stay on the issue, not the individual. Their insights reflect years of experience working to make locker rooms safer through communication, trust, and accountability.
They described a simple rule: “If something feels off, you can’t be here.” In their view, accountability starts long before the bell rings. Vetting new talent, maintaining open communication, and confronting problems early are the first defenses against abuse.
“The longer things linger, the worse they get,” they said. “I like to get ahead of things and squash them fast.”
That approach earned their promotion a reputation as one of the safer independent environments. Still, they acknowledge that good intentions can only go so far. “In a perfect world, we’d have HR-style support and background checks,” they said. “Short of that, we lean on trusted veterans.”
“We’re all wearing twelve hats in this business,” the promoter said. “You’re a booker, marketer, sometimes janitor. Everyone’s stretched thin, but that can’t be an excuse for ignoring safety.”
Their comments highlight one of wrestling’s ongoing challenges: even those committed to creating safer environments often have to rely on trust and personal judgment instead of formal policy. When safety depends on relationships rather than structure, it can falter the moment that trust is broken.
Part IV – Media and Accountability
Both Marcy Alonzo and Raychell Rose say language matters. “Whenever abuse or violence gets used as a storyline,” Rose said, “it’s disgusting. For anyone who’s lived it, it isn’t pop culture—it’s trauma.”
Alonzo added, “When media or entertainment misuses the word ‘trafficking,’ survivors get hurt twice—first by the experience, then by the distortion of it.”
The independent promoter believes wrestling journalism sets the tone. “Do the right things consistently—report carefully, provide context, and be transparent,” they said.
Wrestling media sits in a unique position: half press corps, half fandom. Its proximity to promotions can blur the line between reporting and promotion. When journalists dismiss allegations as rumors or protect corporate silence, they reinforce the culture of minimization that allows misconduct to thrive.
Part V – Looking the Other Way
Independent promotions often operate on shoestring budgets, so the lack of formal infrastructure, while dangerous, is understandable. The same can’t be said for the industry’s giants. WWE, AEW, NJPW, TNA, and UFC have the resources and visibility to lead by example. Yet responses to abuse and exploitation remain vague.
On television, Paul Heyman dismissed the Janel Grant lawsuit against Vince McMahon and WWE as “rumor” and “conspiracy.” The filings are public record, naming Brock Lesnar forty-four times—nothing speculative about that. Just forty-eight hours after the lawsuit was filed in federal court in Connecticut against McMahon, former WWE executive John Laurinaitis, and WWE itself, The Ringer’s Cameron Hawkins asked Paul “Triple H” Levesque at the 2024 Royal Rumble media scrum what steps the company takes to protect talent.
Levesque replied, “I’ll give you the most generalized answer I can: everything possible.” When pressed, no policy was articulated.
Across the industry, similar silence follows questions about oversight or accountability. Promotions insist safety matters; few can show proof. That reluctance reinforces what Alonzo called “the pattern of control.” Power maintains itself by avoiding scrutiny.
I’ve reached out to WWE, AEW, NJPW, TNA, and UFC for comment, asking how each company addresses safety and awareness. Whether they respond or not, the question remains: if the organizations with the power to lead continue to deflect, what incentive does anyone else have to change?
Part VI – Building the Framework
What would real change look like? Alonzo offered a starting list drawn from proven anti-violence models:
- Annual training on domestic violence, harassment, and trafficking awareness for all staff and contractors.
- Third-party reporting lines, independent from creative or talent relations.
- Partnerships with local coalitions, such as CTCAHT, to provide education and survivor resources.
- Mental-health and trauma-response support is built into performer contracts
“These are basic infrastructure,” she said. “They protect everyone, not just victims.”
Rose believes leadership defines culture. “It’s not about knowing everything,” she said. “It’s about how you listen, believe, and act when someone needs help.”
Her advice to anyone in charge—trainers, producers, promoters—was simple: “You won’t be faulted for not knowing what to do. You’ll be faulted for doing nothing.”
The promoter agreed. “Culture isn’t about budget—it’s about values. If the companies with the power to change refuse to lead, why would anyone else?”
Major organizations have the money and visibility to implement these measures tomorrow. Yet responses remain limited to platitudes about “doing everything possible.” Without transparency, those promises are theater.
Alonzo warned that reform requires outside involvement. “You can’t fix power imbalances from inside the same structure that created them,” she said. “External partnerships and oversight are crucial.”
Rose added, “If there were independent advocates, performers could go to, I think more people would speak up. Most of us just want to know someone’s actually listening.”
Part VII – The Cost of Silence
Wrestling thrives on passion—the bond between performer and fan, the trust that makes every match possible. That same trust is what the industry has failed to protect.
For decades, silence has been mistaken for loyalty and toughness for resilience. Ignoring misconduct doesn’t preserve the business; it corrodes it. Real strength lies in accountability. Real community means protecting the people who make wrestling possible.
Performer safety can’t remain optional or hidden backstage. It must be built into the sport’s foundation—through policy, empathy, and action. Until that happens, wrestling’s greatest illusion will be believing the show must always go on.
Resources:
Central Texas Coalition Against Human Trafficking — centraltexascoalition.org
National Human Trafficking Hotline — 1-888-373-7888
National Sexual Assault Hotline — 1-800-656-4673
National Domestic Violence Hotline — 1-800-799-7233