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The “Fan” Letter to WWE

You’re the ones that encourage us to keep living when we want to die. You’re the ones that show us how to live when there’s nothing but darkness with all that we see, you’re the ones that we lift up because we don’t know how to lift us up until you show us.

That’s an incredible amount of power, and we forgot that. Fans around the world forget that even superheroes cry, gangstas, cry. Everyone cries sometimes.

When Brett Hart punched out Vince McMahon he laughed, probably because he knew he’d completely changed his life with one decision.

Brett Hart, the Foundation of WWE. The son of the man who started wrestling as an industry in Canada, told the son of the man who took over that industry, to go fuck himself.

Then he wrote books, he got re-married, he had more kids, he came back to the WWE, and he realized he was right.

He was right to do what he did because as it turns out McMahon was a sexual predator, and he used his position in many ways to hurt other people, and a lot of people let it go because their jobs DEPENDED on protecting the patriarch of the company.

Violence isn’t always the answer, but twenty years of watching this show, of shows just like it, has taught me that Hunter Hurst Helmsley was right, the fans don’t know what’s happening behind the scenes and probably won’t find out for at least twenty years.

Men bled in that ring, men flew to that ring, and other men died. Lots of times the moment that we turn on the tv to watch this abusive, toxic industry, we don’t think about the bad stuff happening behind the scenes, that doesn’t matter.

GIVE US A GOD DAMNED SHOW.

And it better not ends with us leaving at three in the morning because it’s so cold and snowy in fucking CANADA that you get your fans stuck in the middle of the dark with lots of time to think about what it must be like.

To travel the world, to miss time with your kids, to watch your family members rise and fall by this business, to watch them live. and die, bleeding for our desires, our attentions, our dreams. Our children don’t think about Connor the way you do, they don’t think about the shirts, the bracelets, or how important it is that this story continues, that WWE as an industry – in particular – continues to exist.

My son’s name is Connor. My ex-boyfriend’s ex girlfriend’s son would have been named Connor. Connor died, being a fan of WWE, One Connor Lived, Two Died.

One with only a few short years on this earth, one before they even took a breath, You Honor Connor. Every Day. In Every Way.

No, we don’t always know what’s happening behind the scenes of what you do, but you don’t always know why we watch.

Sincerely,

Devon and Sharon, Surrey BC

Original drawing art by  SergioColorsStudio Buy yours today!!!

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