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Cherokee Ryder – Breaking Barriers in Wrestling


The scene opens in a dimly lit backstage area of WXW Stardom, a top-tier women’s wrestling promotion. A black backdrop adorned with the WXW logo stands behind a folding chair, where Cherokee Ryder sits, dressed in her ring gear—fringed brown and red tights, knee-high boots, and a beaded necklace that reflects her Cherokee heritage. Her long, dark hair is braided, and a single feather is tucked behind her ear. She leans forward slightly, resting her arms on her knees, her expression calm but intense as she gazes into the camera.

Cherokee Ryder:
“So here we are. Another night, another fight. Another chance for Cherokee Ryder to step into that ring and do what she does best—prove people wrong. Again.” [She exhales, shaking her head slightly.] “You see, for a long time, I’ve walked into these arenas, looked around, and realized something—people like me? We ain't supposed to be here. At least, that’s what they want us to believe.”

[Her fingers tap against her knee as she gathers her thoughts.]

Cherokee Ryder:
“Professional wrestling has always been full of larger-than-life characters, right? But let’s be real—Native Americans? We’ve been used as props, stereotypes, and gimmicks. When people hear ‘Native American wrestler,’ what do they picture? A guy in a fake headdress, doing some ‘war dance’ in the ring, and yelling like he’s in some old Western movie. And if you’re a Native woman? Oh, forget it. You’re either some ‘Pocahontas fantasy’ or you don’t exist at all.”

[She scoffs, running a hand down her braid before her gaze sharpens.]

Cherokee Ryder:
“But I exist. And I’m done being dismissed. I step into that ring every night, and I don’t need to play a stereotype. I’m not some outdated Hollywood version of what a Native wrestler should be—I’m Cherokee Ryder. I hit hard. I fight with fire in my soul, and when that bell rings, you’re gonna feel every bit of who I am. My ancestors fought to survive, and that same fight? It’s in my blood. It’s in every punch, every suplex, every time I get back up when they think I should stay down.”

[She leans forward more, her voice lowering, her eyes locked onto the camera.]

Cherokee Ryder:
“And that brings me to you, Jessica Williams.”

[She chuckles darkly, shaking her head.]

Cherokee Ryder:
“You know, Jessica, I’ve heard what you’ve been saying. All the little comments about me being ‘just another tough girl with no real skill.’ You say I don’t have the ‘polish’ to be at the top of WXW Stardom. That I don’t belong in the main event picture. Funny how people like you are always so quick to decide who belongs and who doesn’t.”

[She cracks her knuckles, her expression tightening.]

Cherokee Ryder:
“But let’s talk about you, Jessica. The so-called ‘Perfect Athlete.’ The golden girl of WXW. The one management loves to push because you check every box they want. You walk around here with that smug little smirk, acting like you’re untouchable because you’ve got the right look, the right connections, the right everything. You don’t know what it’s like to fight for every damn inch, to walk into a room and have people size you up before you even get the chance to prove yourself.”

[Her tone sharpens, a fire burning in her dark eyes.]

Cherokee Ryder:
“I do. I’ve fought through every single person who’s looked down on me in this business. I’ve been told to my face that ‘a Native girl won’t sell tickets.’ I’ve been put in matches where they wanted me to play the underdog, to be the ‘plucky fighter who just falls short.’ But here’s what they don’t get—I don’t fall short. I rise. I grind. I take every insult, every slight, every doubt, and I turn it into fuel.”

[She stands up now, rolling her shoulders, letting the tension build in the air. Her presence is undeniable, a storm brewing before the strike.]

Cherokee Ryder:
“So, Jessica, when we step into that ring at WXW Stardom, I want you to remember every word you’ve said. Every time you’ve called me ‘second-class.’ Every time you laughed at my name, at my heritage, at my so-called ‘lack of polish.’ Because when that bell rings, you’re not stepping into the ring with some underdog—you’re stepping into the ring with a warrior. And I don’t need anyone’s approval to take what’s mine.”

[She cracks her neck, pacing slightly, the energy in her body electric.]

Cherokee Ryder:
“You like to talk about perfection, Jessica? Well, perfection is a myth. But what’s real? Grit. Fire. Determination. And that’s what I’ve got in spades. So when we go head-to-head, don’t expect me to play my ‘role.’ Don’t expect me to bow down to the so-called pecking order of WXW. Expect a fight. Expect pain. Expect the unexpected.”

[She stops, looking straight into the camera, her final words carrying weight.]

Cherokee Ryder:
“I’m Cherokee Ryder. I’m Native. I’m a wrestler. And I am not a damn gimmick. You’ll learn that firsthand.”

[She glares into the camera for a few more seconds before walking off, the sound of her boots echoing on the floor. The screen fades to black, but her words linger—powerful, unshakable, and filled with promise.]


End of Roleplay.

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