Wrestling has historically been a reflection of society; sometimes ahead of the curve, but oftentimes lagging behind. The Black pro wrestling journey has been long, complex, and filled with obstacles. Despite being placed in stereotypical roles; forced into one-dimensional characters and rarely given the same storytelling depth as their white counterparts, Black talent has continuously broken barriers and redefined success in an industry historically white and resistant to change. Black wrestlers have grappled their way to the top since the Junkyard Dogs gained undeniable popularity, and moments such as Kofimania have elevated them to the forefront in their own way.

A legend stands at the heart of this evolution: Jazz "The Phenom." We had the honor of talking with Jazz about her journey, from her early breakthrough days in ECW to her trailblazing WWE run, and where Black wrestling storytelling is headed.

The name Jazz is synonymous with professional wrestling—not just because she was the last WWF Women's Champion and the first WWE Women's Champion, but because she was and still is a standard bearer for Black excellence, resilience, and authenticity in an industry that historically didn't know what to do with Black pro wrestlers beyond the margins. To date, the narrative is slowly shifting—perhaps intentionally. Jazz, born Carlene Moore, is watching with pride.

Wrestling with Stereotypes

Once upon a time, if you were a Black wrestler you were likely reduced to a trope. Black wrestlers, let alone Black women in pro wrestling, were cast in limited roles for decades. They were regularly booked as dominant forces but rarely given the storytelling depth or emotional layers that made characters resonate with fans. When we talk about Black storytelling in wrestling, we remember the late, great Junkyard Dog—beloved and a draw in his time—yet introduced to audiences with chains around his neck, evoking the imagery of slavery. Kamala, billed as a "Ugandan Giant," was presented as a mute savage who couldn't speak, couldn't count, and needed handlers like a wild animal. Earlier stars like Bobo Brazil helped open doors with sheer athleticism and charm. Marva Scott, Babs Wingo, and Ethel Johnson, often forgotten in the history books, brought equal amounts of beauty and strength to their performances. They were pioneers who packed auditoriums and broke ceilings, but their stories are often left untold. "Hopefully one day, we'll see their story on the big screen," Jazz told BET. "People need to know who they were; they mattered and still do."

The Birth of a Phenom

Shockingly, Jazz entered the wrestling scene in 1998 with only three weeks of pro wrestling training. "My first match was with 'Miss Texas,' better known as WWE Hall of Famer Jacqueline; she whooped my ass in 20 seconds," Jazz said, laughing, recalling her untrained debut in Memphis against the future WWE Women's Champion. She eventually found herself in the hardcore world of ECW. Notably, she had only been training for six to eight months before landing her spot on the hardcore roster. "They had the girls stripping to bras and panties. That wasn't me, and I knew it. I didn't have boobs. I didn't fit their mold," she said. "But Dawn Marie told me, 'Girl, go show them what you can do,' so I did." An impromptu match followed in front of the entire ECW locker room. "Jason Knight and I tore it down. When it was over, I ran out and puked my guts out, but I knew that was the moment. That was when Jazz the Phenom was born." Her image was not sexualized or dumbed down in ECW. "'You're different,' Paul Heyman and Tommy Dreamer told me. 'Don't get a boob job. Don't change a thing. Just be you.'"

That type of creative freedom wasn't as prevalent when she transitioned to WWE, but her authenticity still rang through. When she made her WWE debut in 2001, the company was still stuck in the "Divas" era. The blueprint then was “Models first, wrestlers second.” But Jazz wasn't just a WWE Diva; she came in as a true competitor and WWE knew it. "They couldn't change me. It was like trying to make Muhammad Ali do ballet. It just wouldn't have worked." In 2002, she became the last WWF Women's Champion and the first Black woman to hold the WWE Women's Championship after retaining the title at a Wrestlemania. She wasn't just a transitional champion; she was dominant, taking out WWE legends like Trish Stratus and Lita. Even with the gold around her waist, The Fighting Phenom never stopped.

Redefining Blackness in Wrestling

Black performers were often handed caricatures and clichés with little control over how they were portrayed. Today, Blackness in professional wrestling feels richer and more nuanced. Black wrestlers aren't just performing; they're telling stories in intentional, layered and compelling ways. When the booking is done right (from the fan’s perspective), you can feel the vibe and shift in energy in any story. Black wrestlers have begun reclaiming their stories while demanding more involvement. What’s changed? They're no longer just filling side roles; they're creating stories. They're not just talent; they're part of the creative room, shaping narratives with authenticity and care. Much of that evolution traces back to trailblazers like Jazz, who stepped into the ring unapologetically herself, swinging from day one.

For instance, The New Day—which started as a clapping choir gimmick—became one of the most celebrated factions in WWE history. The three flipped the script, merging championship gold with cultural resonance. They made it cool to be Black and nerdy; you could love anime, quote pop culture, debate wrestling history, and still be a champion. Their eleven-year run is filled with story arcs that hit home for Black fans, none more potent than KofiMania: Kofi Kingston's 2019 journey to the WWE Championship. WWE is all about making moments and, unbeknownst to WWE, that moment wasn't just about one man. It was about three Black brothers navigating a system never built for them, lifting one up to the occasion. "It was real, and it was ours," Jazz reflected. "You felt that story. That's what storytelling should do; it should hit your soul, and that story was amazing."

The former Big 3—Bianca Belair, Naomi, and Jade Cargill—are telling a story that feels like it came straight out of a real-life group chat. A fractured sisterhood with trust issues and flaring egos pushing friendships to the edge. These women are not just performers; they're the girls from down the block caught in a raw emotional storyline. "When Bianca confronted Naomi on SmackDown, I was like this feels like my homegirls fighting," Jazz said. "It was so relatable. It wasn't just about being Black; it was about being human while being Black." We should also mention Bianca Belair is double dipping with a dotted line story to the WWE Women’s World Championship at Wrestlemania 41; something we rarely see.

Across the aisle at AEW, The Hurt Syndicate—MVP, Shelton Benjamin, and Bobby Lashley—are redefining Black masculinity in wrestling. Suited up, cerebral, and all business. "They're not thugs," Jazz emphasized. "They're businessmen who handle their business in the ring." In this modern era, Black talent are not just characters but archetypes that shape compelling stories resonating far beyond the ring. This new generation is refusing to be boxed in and not interested in fitting molds.

The Legacy Lives in the Work

Jazz doesn't wear the title "trailblazer" like a crown, she carries it with purpose. The former two-time WWE Women's Champion and NWA Women's Champion isn't resting on accolades. She's focused on what's next. Alongside her husband, fellow wrestler Rodney Mack, Jazz runs the Dogg Pound Dojo Wrestling School and Dogg Pound Championship Wrestling promotion  dedicated to building the next generation through integrity, discipline, and accurate training. A wrestler's training is crucial. "Too many people buy tights and call themselves wrestlers," she says. “Wrestling is an art. It deserves respect." When Jazz isn't teaching hip tosses and kip-ups, she's working behind the scenes at the NWA and TNA Impact Wrestling, where she produces for the women's division in both promotions and shapes the stories that are told.

Her advice to Black talent trying to break into the business: "Be true to yourself, work on your craft, and keep God first. This business will chew you up and spit you out.” 

“And don't think you're one of them... because you're not."

Black wrestling storytelling has come a long way and it is still evolving. From shackled chains to championships, silent savages to sisters standing tall, "We just want to be ourselves. There should be no gimmicks or stereotypes. Just let us be ourselves."

As the wrestling world slowly begins to reflect the audiences who've been showing up for generations, authenticity is becoming the new standard. These moments aren't just being created by pro wrestling anymore; they're being written, spoken, and owned by Black voices—and Jazz is still leading the charge.