DODGE CITY, Kansas — Outside a garage on the edge of Dodge City, Kansas, the sound of bodies thudding against mat in a wrestling ring echoes in the air.
Inside, three men in masks descend from the top ropes of the ring. Each time they collide with the mat, it shakes the room.
They are practicing lucha libre, a traditional Mexican style of wrestling. It’s gritty, fast and over-the-top. It’s growing in popularity in the United States. And it has traveled far beyond the Mexican borders to Kansas, where the rural southwestern part of the state is leading the charge.
Angel De Paz started SKILL Lucha Libre out of this garage in 2024. The group is booking more shows and events lately.
When he puts on his red and black mask covered in two golden angel wings, his luchador character comes to life.
“(It’s) high flying, intense action and a story for everybody to know of the good luchador, who is fighting for his mask, defending his honor,” De Paz said.
De Paz goes by “El Chanclador” which is a reference to a chancla, or sandal. It’s a term many might remember from their time as a misbehaving child, but De Paz now uses it to dispense justice in the ring.
“A chancla roughly translates to flip flop. Your flip flop that your mama and abuelita hit you with when you're younger,” De Paz said.
Lucha libre is well known for gymnastic-like acrobatics and theatrical performances that are influenced by the crowd.
But it’s not only entertainment. Woven into the sport, down to the masks and conflict, are cultural traditions that are preserved and shared through wrestling. It not only connects Latin American people who make new homes across the United States, but can be a way for the wrestlers and fans to express their emotions and process challenging events happening in the real world.
“Lucha Libre is an experience, not just wrestling, but community, culture and learning our roots,” De Paz said.
Rise of the luchadores
Lucha libre, roughly translated to “free fight” or “freestyle wrestling,” has been evolving for many years before arriving in the High Plains.
The story dates back to the colonial period when France occupied Mexico in the 19th century. Greco-Roman style wrestling had become popular for the French, and during the Second Intervention of Mexico, French soldiers brought the sport to Latin America.
But the Mexican people would develop the sport even further and make it their own, adding a more acrobatic style. The performers used theater to create a play-like story. And the sport spread, along with traditions and cultural values from the communities.
Colorful masks became traditional for luchadores, symbolizing a sacred and mysterious warrior, often including art and designs linking back to Aztec and Mayan cultures.
The loss of a mask in the ring is a significant, career-defining moment.
De Paz told the story of his mask while standing next to the ring.
“My lucha mask has two angel wings that signifies myself as the angel being carried with the wind,” De Paz said. “Beneath My Wings, the cross on my back is a cross dedicated to my abuelitas, who were hard working Catholic women.”
De Paz said the cultural stories luchadores bring in the ring helps define the sport.
The impact outside the ring
Lucha libre for many Mexicans and Latin Americans is a cross section of sports, arts and culture.
Brandon Rubio is a graduate student studying lucha libre for his doctorate in Latin American studies at Stanford University. He’s always been a big sports fan, and the cultural ties to wrestling made it special to him.
He traveled throughout California and Mexico to watch lucha libre live. He learned about the importance the cultural phenomenon has for the people that attend, but also those that perform.
“What popped out to me is 1% of luchadores would make it to be financially successful from this. Yet, a lot of people continue to do it and put their body on the line,” Rubio said.
Rubio said the lack of financial compensation feels similar to performing artists who are driven by passion.
One of the luchadores in Dodge City, El Diablo, said for him it’s an outlet for self-expression.
“I could show my anger through El Diablo,” he said. “I can show other emotions through El Diablo. I could show my coolness through El Diablo.”
El Diablo and the other wrestlers outside of De Paz uphold the tradition of not revealing their identity behind the mask, similar to pioneering luchadores like El Santo and Blue Demon.
That artistry element allows for the sport to be larger-than-life and can actually include social commentary or political discourse.
Rubio in his studies had seen the use of lucha libre to process challenges within the Latin American community or discuss social and political issues happening outside the ring. He noted an increase in border patrol officers being used as characters in the ring, coinciding with increasing immigration enforcement throughout America.
“A lot of the time, minority (or) marginalized communities kind of feel like they can't really express themselves for fear of persecution,” Rubio said. “With this, just for one night, they feel like there's some sort of justice.”
But what sets apart lucha libre from many other sports is that lucha libre has flourished through community-centered promotion at places like local grocery stores. Events often other businesses and vendors to join and promote themselves as well.
“In an age of selling tickets to shows digitally through Ticketmaster, a lot of lucha libre promotions still partner with local community centers to sell tickets,” Rubio said. “I think that really represents the Latin American culture of ‘it takes village.’’’
And SKILL Lucha Libre in southwest Kansas upholds this tradition, inviting local taco trucks, jewelry makers and other businesses to their events.
Growing new Kansas luchadores
Back in Dodge City, the luchadores are preparing for several shows they have coming up in May, including a Cinco de Mayo celebration and a taco festival fundraiser.
For one of the biggest luchadores in the squad, who goes by Bruisador Violencia, giving back to the community is one of his favorite parts of wrestling.
“My dad always taught me to be a good person, and always to give back. I feel like I'm doing that with lucha libre,” he said.
He said he also loves seeing people’s reactions, especially the kids that attend. It reminds him of when he fell in love with wrestling.
But Bruisador thinks it’s they offer more than wrestling.
“There's more to lucha libra than just us chopping each other,” he said. “It's dope, and it's entertaining and fun, but we bring more to the table.”
Bruisador, De Paz and El Diablo all also help with wrestling classes for adults and kids, bringing up the next generation of luchadors and teaching them the ways of lucha libre.
It’s their way of embracing and sharing culture while helping others find their identities.
As De Paz climbed back into the ring, he said support from the community of fans is what drives him.
“They easily could have been like ‘we don't care,’” De Paz said. “Instead, they've said ‘no, we need this. We love this. We need to see more of this.”
