There are women who walk into a wrestling ring. And then there’s Dark Silueta—who floats in like a ghost from a cathedral in hell and hits like your father’s belt on a Sunday afternoon after the tequila wore off. Born in the highlands of Guadalajara, Joana Guadalupe Jiménez Hernández stepped into the squared circle at the ripe age of 13, the kind of prodigy you only hear about in noir detective novels and cursed family sagas.
She trained under Francisco Gaitán, a name that sounds like it belongs more to a revolutionary or a hitman than a wrestling trainer. Either way, Gaitán knew how to make fists fly. By 2006, Silueta wasn’t just another rookie. She was a masked force of nature, gliding across ropes like an avenging shadow and bringing the kind of chaos that made audiences question whether they were watching lucha libre or a séance.
Rise of the Righteous Ruda
The irony, of course, is that Silueta spent most of her early years playing the tecnico—the “good guy” in Mexican wrestling terms. But her aura was always more ruda than righteous. Maybe it was the way her eyes never smiled beneath the mask. Or maybe it was the fact that she always looked like she was five seconds from cursing out the ref and pile-driving him into the floor just for fun.
Her war with Zeuxis in 2010 became instant legend—two masked women clawing and gouging through trios matches, turning lucha tradition into a blood sport. The heat between them was so white-hot it could’ve powered the lights in Arena México for a month. Eventually, it led to a Luchas de Apuestas match—mask vs. mask, pride vs. paycheck.
She lost. She unmasked. And in that moment—when the crowd gasped and cameras clicked—Joana Guadalupe Jiménez Hernández was born again. The mask was gone, but what she gained was something more dangerous: identity.
A Tale of Two Nations
With her identity now public and her name echoing from the speakers like a declaration of war, Silueta didn’t fade. She roared.
Her work in Japan, particularly with Reina, elevated her from Mexican hopeful to international hitwoman. In 2011, she won the CMLL-Reina International Junior Championship, outlasting seven other women in a torneo cibernetico that looked more like a street fight outside a tequila bar than a wrestling match. Over the years, she’d win that title three times, trading it back and forth with Zeuxis and Japan’s Maki Narumiya like it was a poker chip and they were playing for souls.
In 2015, Silueta signed with Reina permanently. She and Syuri took the Reina World Tag Team Championship, because apparently domination was just easier in pairs. They held the belts until Syuri walked, and like every scorned wrestler, Silueta turned her betrayal into fuel. She didn’t just chase titles—she hunted them.
The National Crown and the Lady’s Ring
Back in Mexico, Silueta continued her march through the CMLL women’s division like a buzzsaw in glitter boots. In November 2021, she won the Mexican National Women’s Championship, a title older than many of the wrestlers she now faced in the ring. She vacated it in June 2023, not because she lost steam but because even warriors need to rest—or maybe because she wanted to make space on her wall for new trophies.
Her conquest didn’t stop. In September 2023, she won the CMLL Japanese Women’s Championship, adding another international notch to her belt. Then, like clockwork, she lost it… and took it back again. Winning it twice—because for Dark Silueta, nothing worth having should only be had once.
Two Kids, One Flame
Behind the sequins and the slams, there’s a woman who makes pancakes. A mother of two sons—one born in 2010, the other in 2018—Joana balances her life like she does her opponents: upside down and probably in pain. How she balances motherhood and moonsaults is anyone’s guess, but let’s be honest—if anyone can cradle a baby in one arm and chokehold a rookie with the other, it’s Dark Silueta.
She doesn’t talk much about her family. But if you look into her eyes before a match, you see it—the fire, the drive, the blood oath whispered in the shadows of a baby’s crib: “Mama’s going to war, mi amor.”
Legacy in Black Lace
Dark Silueta doesn’t need a legacy. She’s too busy living it. With championships across continents, a resume soaked in rivalries, and a fan base that chants her name like it’s a holy hymn and a death threat at once, she’s carved herself into lucha libre like a dagger through velvet.
She is what happens when determination puts on mascara and hits a German suplex.
She is what happens when sacrifice meets spotlight.
She is the silhouette that no longer hides in the dark—she is the dark.
