Any Color But Green: How Cody Rhodes Follows Dusty’s Playbook
“I told Brandi one time that I don’t see color and she said ‘well, then you don’t see my experience.’” — Cody Rhodes, post-show interview (2019)
The above quote was spoken by one Cody Rhodes, son of the Son of a Plumber, the legendary Dusty Rhodes. Cody’s rise from mid-card also-ran in WWE to current Vice President of his own major wrestling company, All Elite Wrestling (AEW), is the stuff of inspiration to anyone who believes that the system-at-large is only designed to limit, not expand your stardom. Cody is unique because he literally grew up in the pro wrestling business, watching his father navigate all aspects of promoting, developing, and paying off storylines. As such, Cody’s experiences with wrestling are different — his ideas and worldview about the art form are shaped by countless interactions with wrestling legends from across the spectrum. Hard work, paying dues, and connecting with the audience were requirements to becoming a success in wrestling.
When the subset of social media known as #WrestlingTwitter discuss Cody’s rise to prominence, we focus sometimes on the pedigree, or the astute marketing mind, or the ability to somehow wrestle a WWE-style that most independent wrestling fans hate to thunderous applause, but we rarely focus on the meaning of the above quote, his upbringing in the business, and the ramifications it has on our understanding of AEW booking and Cody Rhodes himself.
Cody made the above comments after the official AEW inaugural PPV, “Double or Nothing,” emanating from Las Vegas. Andreas Hale, Senior Editor of Combat Sports for Sporting News, captured video from WWE Hall of Famer Mark Henry asking Cody a question about inclusion and diversity — two predominant themes Cody and the rest of the wrestling braintrust at AEW have sold as bulwarks of their company’s mission. Cody’s response was both lauded and illuminating, depending on which side of the spectrum you fall upon.
To be frank — The AEW fanbase is often quick to defend, promote, and insulate the “Elite” — the faction of wrestlers primarily responsible for the creation of All Elite Wrestling. Despite serious questions about their political views, questionable friendships with sex offenders, and just the general dickishness of their presentation, the fanbase as a whole is passionate to a fault. Ownership amongst fans is powerful, particularly amongst the independent fanbase. While WWE meet-and-greets are often dry, corporate affairs, nothing creates a lifelong fan more than a 5 minute conversation at the gimmick table with Wrestler X after a 20 minute wrestling match in a small environment. The sheer intimacy of some of these events created new ecosystems for wrestling fans — now, wrestlers can make a name for themselves, brand themselves with fan support, and eventually turn that brand into its own movement, word to the British-based Schadenfreude, which definitely isn’t a cult.
However, a cursory look at the AEW fanbase reveals the continued presence of the dreaded “neckbeard” — the self-important fan whose knowledge of product is only superseded by their smug alienation of anything they consider mainstream. These fans, ironically enough, trend away from the sort of inclusive and diverse environment Cody and Company are touting to the media. At “Double or Nothing,” an AEW fan openly mocked Nyla Rose in the crowd, leading to an eventual ban from events. Jim Ross, Hall of Fame announcer and the voice of the vaunted WWE “Attitude Era,” misgendered Nyla Rose, a transgender woman competing for AEW, on their very first live show. Things get even uglier when you consider that on the same night, the “big” reveal at the end of Dynamite was Jake Hagar (f/k/a WWE’s Jack Swagger), who has recently come out tacitly endorsing transphobia.
Yikes.
By my count, there has been exactly ONE match on AEW TV or PPV in which a black male wrestler was given a showcase match, and that was during their very first show, “All In,” way back in 2018. That match was a Ring of Honor championship match featuring Jay Lethal. Since September 1st, 2018, there hasn’t been a singles match on any main show featuring a black male wrestler.
ZERO.
When I mention this online, people often point to Scorpio Sky (who is part of tag team SoCal Uncensored), or try to extol the virtues of Sonny Kiss wrestling on the Youtube show, AEW Dark. They will mention Private Party opening AEW Dynamite and wrestling the Elite’s Young Bucks. They’ll point to Brandi, or that one time Nyla Rose wrestled on the show.
What they cannot point me to is the black male wrestler I should identify with and boo or cheer. My avatar for the action that takes place inside their universe.

Again — for a company that tacitly endorses diversity and inclusion, the absence of black men and women on their television show is galling. Even more galling is the response to criticism when you point out this fact. Rich Fann, a reporter for PWTorch.com, and I have discussed (ok — I badgered him) this issue online, leading to him confronting Cody on the perception that AEW isn’t truly as diverse as Cody proclaims, especially when shots of the crowd look, well… like this:
So what does Cody’s quote have to do with any of this? The well-meaning white ally, normally dripping with an almost inordinate level of self-importance and moral superiority, will declare “I don’t see color” when confronted with the very real experiences of those minorities who are uncomfortable in shared spaces. The glass ceiling that Cody felt in the WWE system is the reality in all aspects of life for minorities in the United States, and has been since before this countries inception. However, Cody’s subsequent rebranding post-WWE has transformed him into a shining example of connecting with an audience eager for a common man they can relate to and support. Basically, someone REAL. His father was often treated the same way.
However, Cody’s journey to the top of the wrestling industry tinted his own vision rose — in no uncertain terms. Out of his own mouth, it took him until 2015 — after meeting a woman he considered worthy of marriage — before the experiences of black people mattered to him. That is a scary, dangerous premise. That means he couldn’t see how Cryme Tyme was caricature, or why the language surrounding Mark Henry was problematic. He couldn’t see the double standard that wrestlers like Shelton Benjamin wouldn’t receive the same opportunities he would receive. EVER. This is the same person who watched his father Dusty take black Southern Baptist preacher cadences, movements, stories, and swagger; incorporating them into a persona that made him millions. Wrestling fans often look upon Dusty’s promos with fondness — he was a gifted orator. Probably the best in wrestling history. Don’t believe me, take a few minutes and check out Mr. Lariato’s “Let’s Listen to Dusty” collection.
Finished? Good.
On November 4th, Cody teased a new t-shirt design, calling it the “Most ridiculous thing he’s ever seen.” Anticipation grew. It always does when Cody or The Elite drop merchandise, good or bad. When the image finally dropped, my jaw did the same. Equal parts anger and frustration poured from me as I stared at the image on my phone. Without context, the shirt design can only be described as cultural blackface, no different than the Gucci blackface sweater or Adidas ball-and-chain shoes. With context, the shirt design shows an almost comical lack of self-awareness, cultural connections, and the lack of diverse places willing to say, “Hey Cody… Uh, this is a bad idea.”
Word to Jordan Myles. #ForTheCulture
Let’s overlook the fact that wrestlers AJ Gray and WWE’s Street Profits have created similar Pen & Pixel-style merchandise. Let’s overlook the fact that entrepreneur Percy “Master P” Miller himself is now involved in the wrestling industry with his acquisition of New York-based independent House of Glory (HOG) wrestling. Lets even overlook that some of my personal favorite wrestling shirts are parodies of pop culture. I’m even willing to overlook the fact that Cody has no CLUE what Pen & Pixel represents to fans of No Limit, Cash Money, Three Six Mafia, Suave House and so many other independent southern record labels and artists. I can push past all of that, and even the subtle mocking of Master P by Cody on The Elite’s youtube show, Being The Elite. It is generally a trip down douchebag lane, and I rarely find any of their attempts at comedy actually funny.
Let’s overlook ALL of that, alright?
Look — I think most of Cody’s shirts are Futt-Buggly. American jingoist nonsense I wouldn’t wear anywhere, wrestling event or not. If anything, there is a separate conversation to be had about which audience Cody is looking to attract with the overt American flag imagery; that said, the bigger issues here are the ideas of representation and cultural appropriation. In my last piece, I discussed how wrestling companies are using hip-hop and black culture to tan their own product, sanitizing their message and creating footholds for their product off the backs of black experiences without dealing with the repercussions or even providing equitable platforms and safe spaces for black talent. GCW is (relatively) small scale; now, we are watching this same scenario play out with the Shad Khan-funded, TNT-backed AEW.
Cody’s choices about presentation, representation, and understanding of who supports his product all inform his decisions as it relates to the signing, promotion, and control over the image of All Elite Wrestling. When you look back at the already questionable decisions made as it relates to hiring, diversity, and inclusion, this shirt design comes off less as a simple parody, and more of his father’s appropriation of culture. Which begs the question — is diversity truly a stunt, or merely Cody pulling from his father’s successful handbook? Does AEW’s diversity and inclusion only exist as a marketing ploy, or a means to provide “Look at us — We are DIVERSE, dammit!” dog whistle ammunition designed to be thrown at pundits and skeptics — this writer included — who sees the lack of diversity amongst their roster as a serious impediment to supporting their product?
The bigger question is — does Cody even care? To borrow a common wrestling axiom, “Ain’t nothing real but the money and the miles.” Maybe the only color he truly sees is green, because this shirt reeks of an “ally” being in a room full of his friends, proudly making colorist jokes because if anyone objects, he can point out that, “Hey! I married a black person! I can’t be racist!” This is why it is important to note that racism is one thing — appropriation is another. Racism can cost you everything (unless you are Terry Bollea), but appropriation can make you rich, word to the Son of a Plumber.
