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I am going to share a disturbing metaphor. It is unpleasant, so consider yourself warned, but I do hope you will read on and consider.

To begin, I confess that I have not followed the professional wrestling craze over the years. As a child, I spent Saturday mornings watching Mid-South Wrestling on a local Memphis television station and rooted for “Superstar” Bill Dundee over Jerry “The King” Lawler, but when professional wrestling later consolidated and exploded into a mammoth empire I was occupied with other things. It wasn’t a moral choice at the time; I was probably just too infatuated with traditional sports.

However, while channel surfing over the last couple of years, I stumbled on and appreciated several A&E documentaries featuring the biographies of famous wrestlers whose names I could not have escaped had I tried: “Macho Man” Randy Savage. Jake “The Snake” Roberts. “Stone Cold” Steve Austin. The Undertaker. And of course, I also watched a movie or two, so names like Hulk Hogan, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, and John Cena are more than familiar.

But it wasn’t wrestling fandom that led me recently to watch all six episodes of the current Netflix docuseries, Mr. McMahon, chronicling the life and times of the legendary promoter, Vince McMahon, who transformed wrestling into a national phenomenon and himself into a multibillionaire. Instead, as a higher education professional, I was interested in the McMahon story since Linda McMahon, Vince’s spouse of fifty-eight years (though very recently separated), has been nominated by President-elect Trump as the next leader of the federal department of education. I felt the need to learn more.

I did watch all six episodes, and many were very hard to watch.

Episode Five, titled, “Family Business,” was one of the hard ones and the first to really feature Linda. It shared when Vince’s evil (“heel”) character began to incorporate his wife and children into the storyline, which involved times when Linda would slap her children on camera and others when she would portray a drugged spouse whose husband would carry on affairs in front of her. This phase in the story of the World Wrestling Federation (at the time, later changed to World Wrestling Entertainment (“WWE”) due to a lawsuit) coincided with the rise of reality television, and the McMahon storyline blended reality and soap opera with a blurry line as to which parts were real. But it turns out that this post is not so much about Linda McMahon specifically.

The previous episode, Episode Four, titled “Attitude,” is another hard one and the centerpiece of the docuseries. It showcased the “Attitude Era” as announced on an episode of “Monday Night Raw” in 1997 when Vince McMahon (the business mogul) became “Mr. McMahon” (the heel/character, and docuseries title). The Attitude Era featured marked and intentional increases in hardcore, sadistic violence as well as sexually provocative content that objectified women—and the business exploded in popularity.

Episode Four reminded me that the Attitude Era was not a cultural anomaly in the late 1990s. It recalled the rise of “trash television” like The Jerry Springer Show and radio “shock jocks” like Howard Stern that were wildly popular, too. In an earlier episode of Mr. McMahon, famed bodybuilder and wrestler, Tony Atlas, described the era by saying, “We would have been looked upon in today’s society as some of the worst human beings walking the face of the Earth. I mean, we abused the hell out of women. All of us did. You know, they were like a toy for us.”

On a personal level, Episode Four led me to recall a particular prevailing [A]ttitude in the dark parts of my own childhood. I remembered when I learned terrible racist jokes (starting in elementary school). I remembered when shaming queer people was the standard. I remembered when offensive terms for disabled people were used to mock others. I remembered when the objectification of women was the societal norm.

I found it intriguing that Tony Atlas sensed a difference “in today’s society.” Times did change in certain important ways in the 21st century. The “#MeToo” movement created a major backlash against clergy sexual abuse and the Harvey Weinsteins and Larry Nassers in the United States. The creation of a “Pride Month” was a major national statement that queer shaming is unacceptable. The “Black Lives Matter” movement demanded recognition of the legacy of historic racial terror and the white supremacist foundations of the United States. “DEI” departments were established to work toward campus environments where everyone is included. The word “woke” entered the national vocabulary to say that we should no longer turn a blind eye to the terrible abuse that exists in our country. A “cancel culture” for offenders emerged.

As did accusations that these movements were going too far. Even though the movements used mild terms that reflected centuries of humiliation like the simple “me, too” (in response to being silenced) and “pride” (in response to being shamed) and “matter” (in response to being deemed insignificant) and “inclusion” (in response to being excluded) and “woke” (in response to being invisible), the accusations mounted that things were going too far. And following the 2024 presidential election, exit polls suggested that more than a few agreed with the accusations.

Given the perceived mandate, President-elect Trump then began to nominate unorthodox public figures to be his top leaders, including several accused of sexual assault; and including Linda McMahon to be the face of education.

As I watched the Netflix docuseries alongside the national news, here is the ominous metaphor that entered my mind: The current United States of America as a WWE crowd in the Attitude Era. In fact, while the thought first entered my mind in Episode Four of Mr. McMahon, the sixth and final episode begins by chronicling the rise of Donald Trump from business person to reality television star (including WWE) to popular politician and refers to “the wrestling-ification of America.”

No, I’m not claiming that all Trump supporters consciously and specifically voted for WWE values from the Attitude Era, although I am positive there are a disturbing number that did. What I am claiming is that whether enthusiastic or willing to compromise, whether reluctant or unaware, it seems clear that the nation—through the ballot box—purchased a ticket to the outrageous show. At the very least that is what the Cabinet nomination process displays so far.

In a sense, I guess the story of Vince McMahon’s astounding business success displayed that the United States already was a WWE crowd, but the pendulum swing toward a return to the Attitude Era on a national level is troubling, especially when you remember what that looked like. At some point in Episode Four, a wrestler asked a pertinent question: “Which is worse: the people who do it (i.e., sadistic violence; abuse women), or the people who love it?” I’m not sure of the answer, but it is a good question. And while I fear the cultural pendulum swing, I hope that it is less of a pendulum and more of a roller coaster drop with an ultimate upward trajectory toward progress. But I can’t say that with any confidence: It doesn’t bode well that, while we have seen this before, it is the first time that we have witnessed it with the massive power of the federal government.

If you haven’t tuned me out and still truly wonder why many are heartbroken and scared following the presidential election, consider this: While many hear the slogan, Make America Great Again, as an innocent return to a time when one income was sufficient for a family and students prayed in school, many others—especially given the actions and rhetoric of the politician that coined the slogan—hear “Again” as the time when racist jokes were commonplace, queer people were shamed and ostracized, disabled people were mocked, and women were abused and silenced. And for those facing such a recurrence, enthusiastic Christian approval is particularly painful.

It is possible that my voice is guilt-inspired. I am okay with that. Looking back at my life, I am surely not innocent. And speaking up for victims of centuries of racial, gender, and “other” abuse is literally the least I can do.

I encourage you to watch Mr. McMahon even though it is a painful experience, especially if you are willing to consider what makes it so painful. Doing so now seems timely as we fill the arena for a brand-new season of “America Raw.”