Wrestling is a business of arrivals—some bang down the door, some sneak in through the boiler room. But when Giuliatook the Women’s United States Championship on a sultry night in Riyadh, she didn’t knock, didn’t sneak—she strolled in like the whole house belonged to her. Calm. Collected. Dangerous.
She beat Zelina Vega, clean and clinical, in the middle of the ring. Vega had 63 days wrapped around her waist, carrying the U.S. title like a crown made of glass—pretty, but fragile. And Giulia? Giulia shattered that glass without flinching.
Zelina went for the Code Red—her Hail Mary, her highlight-reel finish—but Giulia snatched momentum by the throat. A well-timed knee called the Arrivederci, then the Northern Lights Bomb, a thunderous exclamation point from a woman who hits like art painted with broken bones. Three seconds later, the referee’s hand slammed the mat and Giulia had arrived—again.
From Stardom to SmackDown
For those just tuning in—Giulia is no rookie. She’s the type of wrestler who moves like a panther and stares like a ghost. Born in England, raised in Japan, half-Italian, half-stormcloud. She came up in World Wonder Ring Stardom, where matches weren’t just athletic contests—they were declarations of pain and elegance, sometimes in that order.
She wasn’t molded in the WWE system. She exploded through it. After arriving in NXT less than a year ago, Giulia didn’t just impress—she swallowed the spotlight whole. She held the NXT Women’s Championship for 63 days—the same stretch of time Zelina Vega held the U.S. title before falling to her. Fate, irony, poetry. Pick your metaphor. They all fit Giulia like her ring gear—tight and defiant.
But her call-up came fast. Too fast, even for her.
Lost in Translation, Found in Violence
“I still haven’t properly learned English,” she said recently, half-smiling, half-apologizing in an interview with meraWRESTLING. “I’m sorry I haven’t learned English.”
There’s something disarming about that. A woman who hits like a train but still blushes at a missed verb tense. A killer in the ring, still figuring out the backstage small talk.
She admitted the speed of it all rattled her—eight months in NXT, and suddenly she’s on SmackDown, sharing locker rooms with Charlotte Flair and Bianca Belair and championship belts with more fingerprints than a detective’s desk.
“At first, of course, I had the feeling of ‘I want to go quickly,’” she said. “But then… everything was new to me. Time just flew.”
She sounds surprised. And maybe she should be. Because while many flounder under WWE’s breakneck pace, Giulia bloomed. She adapted not by slowing down, but by slicing through the chaos like a katana through mist.
Why It Matters
Let’s talk brass tacks. This isn’t just a win—it’s a statement. The Women’s United States Championship might be young in lineage, but its symbolism is sharp. It’s a belt born from WWE’s need to elevate women mid-carders beyond filler. Chelsea Green wore it first like a peacock at a funeral—flashy but doomed. Zelina Vega brought fire to it, added some weight.
But Giulia? She just made it real.
She gives the belt gravity. Presence. And danger. She’s not doing selfie segments. She’s not playing Mean Girls backstage. Giulia is a walking contradiction: all poise on the outside, all punishment inside the ropes.
She doesn’t need to scream. Her eyes do the yelling.
The Style: Smooth Violence
There’s a reason the Arrivederci knee lands different. Giulia has the rare gift of making every move look like a decision. She doesn’t wrestle. She dictates. And when she hoisted Vega and planted her with the Northern Lights Bomb, it didn’t feel like a finisher—it felt like punctuation.
Like the end of a chapter she didn’t even bother reading.
That’s what separates her. She’s not concerned with what came before. She’s not trying to be Trish Stratus or Asuka or Rhea Ripley. She’s just Giulia. A one-woman redefinition of calm brutality.
What Comes Next?
This win cements her as the most dangerous woman on SmackDown not named Rhea Ripley, and with the U.S. title in her grasp, her next challengers will have to bring more than just name value.
There’s a collision course waiting with names like Iyo Sky, Roxanne Perez, and maybe even a returning Sasha Banks if the wind shifts just right.
But Giulia doesn’t seem concerned. She doesn’t chase ghosts. She’s too busy turning flesh into folklore.
Final Word: Queen Without a Country
Giulia may still be struggling with English, but her in-ring language is universal—an unholy blend of precision, poise, and punishment.
She didn’t need pyros or politics to make her mark. Just a knee, a bomb, and a stare that could peel paint.
And now, with gold on her shoulder and fire in her stride, she’s no longer the next big thing.
She’s the thing.
