Priscilla Kelly doesn’t ask for your pity. She’s not looking for a Hallmark hug or a redemption montage with soaring strings. She’s clawing her way out of the wreckage with black eyeliner smudged and fists still clenched—and this week, the former WWE NXT standout better known as Gigi Dolin reminded the wrestling world that behind every glitter-dusted entrance is a human being holding it together with duct tape and sarcasm.
It started with a tweet—one of those midnight gut punches that hits the feed like a glass of whiskey hurled against the wall. “Maybe I should just kms? Don’t worry I’ll be face down ass up in the casket for you guys.” Not a promo. Not a storyline. Just raw, cracked emotion, bleeding onto the timeline for all to see.
The post vanished in hours, but the damage had been done. The wrestling community—fans, peers, ex-colleagues, keyboard psychologists—reacted with a cocktail of panic, support, and the usual internet bile. And just like that, the spotlight wasn’t just on Gigi’s ring gear anymore. It was on her pain.
No Gimmicks Here, Just Flesh
Her follow-up tried to pull back the curtain. “I tweeted out of hurt. I was being dark and sarcastic, not literal—but I understand it landed heavy,” she wrote. “Getting mocked and sexualized when you’re trying to rebuild something you love breaks a piece of you.”
That message, too, was deleted. But it said enough.
Figuratively speaking, Priscilla Kelly has been walking barefoot on hot coals since the day she stepped into the squared circle.
Born in 1997 in Georgia and wrestling by her teens, Kelly made her name not by playing it safe, but by grabbing wrestling’s rules and dragging them into the back alley for a knife fight. She wrestled like a poet on fire—chaotic, sensual, unpredictable. Her infamous 2018 spot involving a tampon at a bar wrestling show turned her into a lightning rod. Feminist performance art or desperate shock value? Depends on who you ask. But one thing was clear: she never played by anybody’s rules but her own.
Toxic Attraction, Real Emotions
When WWE scooped her up and repackaged her as Gigi Dolin, she found herself slotted into a faction called Toxic Attraction, a name that sounded like it belonged on the cover of a hair metal album from 1987. Alongside Mandy Rose and Jacy Jayne, she played the sultry misfit, the femme fatale with neon hair and a mean streak. And for a while, it worked.
They ran roughshod over NXT’s women’s division. Gigi won gold, got TV time, and lived the scripted dream.
But dreams curdle fast in Stamford.
By 2024, the wheels came off. Mandy was released. The faction disbanded. Gigi became just another name in a sea of post-Vince clean-up releases. Her exit wasn’t explosive. It was quiet—like a candle flickering out in a cold hallway.
Since then, she’s floated. Still wrestling, still trying, but on the indie circuit, you don’t get pyro and guaranteed merch checks. You get motel rooms with flickering lights and a promoter who sometimes “forgets” to pay. You get 2 a.m. dives in front of 85 people and a handshake if you’re lucky.
And you get reminded—relentlessly—that to some fans, you’re not a performer, not a person. You’re a body. A thing. A memory from NXT with good gear and tight pants.
It’s enough to make anyone crack.
Not Bulletproof, But Still Standing
In her second, now-deleted post, Kelly said, “I’m not broken. But I’m also not bulletproof.”
That line should be carved in marble and handed out to every rookie who walks into the business thinking it’s all fame and glory. Wrestling doesn’t care how talented you are. It doesn’t care how much heart you’ve got. It will chew you up, spit you out, and then mock the blood on your boots.
But still she fights.
Still she wants in.
Still she’s chasing the damn thing that made her fall in love with the business in the first place—a business that lets you feel like a god for 15 minutes and then ghosts you like a bad Tinder date the next day.
Priscilla Kelly, Gigi Dolin, whatever name she chooses—she’s still here. Maybe battered. Maybe bruised. But still standing.
And that, in a world built on illusions and body slams, might be the most heroic thing of all.