Some women carry pepper spray. Sarah Bäckman? She carries entire nations in her biceps. In a world of glass ceilings and bad Tinder dates, she entered at 14 with her arm on a table and her teeth clenched. She left with eight world titles, eleven Swedish championships, and more broken egos than a bar brawl in Södermalm.
Sarah Bäckman isn’t just strong. She’s Viking strong. Built like a Norse legend, born in Stockholm, and raised on meat, muscle, and maybe the tears of her opponents, she became the most decorated female arm wrestler on Earth. Then she quit. Cold turkey. Just like that.
Why?
Because in 2013, WWE called—the glitzy meat grinder of dreams and dislocated limbs—and Sarah said yes. Not for fame. Not for a title belt. But because it sounded fun.
She lasted one year.
But oh, what a year it was.
The Arm Wrestling Legend
Bäckman’s origin story doesn’t start in a ring or cage. It starts at a shaky table, in a dark Swedish gym, surrounded by men who didn’t believe in female strength unless it came with a tray of coffee. At 14, she won her first match. Then she didn’t stop. She trained like she was preparing to invade Normandy. By the time she hit 18, Sarah was so dominant on the international arm wrestling circuit, you’d think they’d build a statue. Or at least ask her not to enter.
Eight-time World Champion. Eight-time European Champion. Eleven-time Swedish Champion. That’s not a résumé. That’s an obituary list for everyone who challenged her grip.
She was the Tyson of the table—minus the ear biting and with more eyeliner.
Spirit Breaker on ‘Gladiatorerna’
Before WWE, before real estate, before the name Shara would be pinned to her chest like a forgotten tattoo, Sarah moonlighted as a blonde destroyer on Sweden’s “Gladiatorerna”—a televised coliseum of neon violence. Her name was “Spirit,” and if that sounds gentle, you haven’t seen her body-check a contestant into the foam pit of despair.
She replaced another gladiator named “Stinger,” which tells you everything you need to know about this franchise: They didn’t just want muscle; they wanted mythology. Bäckman didn’t just fill the role. She upgraded it.
“I dreamed of being a Gladiator,” she once said. Of course she did. Because arm wrestling was great, but throwing people off scaffolding in slow motion on prime-time TV? That’s art.
The WWE Detour: Lights, Camera, Nope
In 2013, WWE beckoned like a glittering fever dream. They signed her to NXT, their development brand—wrestling’s equivalent of minor league baseball, but with more spray tan and less dental coverage.
Her ring name? Shara. Half Sarah, half generic Mortal Kombat character. She showed up in Orlando ready to crush it. And crush it she did…until reality tagged in.
NXT was supposed to be her evolution, her crossover into American fame. But instead, it was a holding pen of injuries, politics, and painful rehearsals. Wrestling wasn’t about who could hit hardest. It was about who could fall prettiest. And Sarah—who had never learned to lose—was being taught to do just that.
By April 2014, she’d had enough. She asked for her release. WWE, used to chewing up and spitting out the hopeful, nodded. She walked out of the Performance Center and didn’t look back. No drama, no scandal—just a valkyrie flipping the script and heading home.
Return of the Queen (of the Table)
Unlike most who leave WWE, Sarah didn’t vanish into Comic-Con cameos or “Where Are They Now?” YouTube lists. She went back to arm wrestling, a sport that never asked her to fake pain or smile for promo shots.
She didn’t miss a beat.
She picked up more titles like they were discounted at IKEA. Still better than ever. Still terrifying. She proved that in a world obsessed with scripted drama, reality still has a place for pure strength.
And then, just when you thought she’d ride into the Nordic sunset with medals hanging from her neck like Christmas tinsel, she reinvented herself. Again.
From Arm Bars to Open Houses
Some people go from sports to broadcasting. Sarah Bäckman went from body-slamming men into metaphorical tables to selling them homes.
In 2015, she became a real estate agent—because clearly, she needed more business cards. At 6 feet tall with the confidence of a Norse warlord, she doesn’t sell homes so much as conquer them. If she tells you that kitchen has “great potential,” you believe her. You don’t argue with someone who can snap a doorknob off with their thumb.
You might think real estate is a strange pivot for a world champion. But really, it’s not. Strength, charm, discipline, and the ability to crush competition—sounds like the perfect agent to us.
And unlike WWE, real estate doesn’t make you job to people half your size wearing eyeliner.
Private Life of a Powerhouse
Sarah Bäckman’s life off the mat is refreshingly real. She was married to fellow wrestler Bo Dallas—yes, the guy who told everyone to “Bo-lieve”—from 2014 to 2019. After that, she married fitness coach Mikey Oliva, proving once again that she only teams up with people who can do pushups without crying.
She’s also a Christian—a woman of faith and flex. It’s hard to imagine her sitting quietly in church pews, but if there’s ever been an argument for divine strength, it’s her.
Legacy of the Valkyrie
Sarah Bäckman didn’t just break barriers. She body-checked them into a wall. From arm wrestling to reality TV to pro wrestling to real estate, she’s lived more lives than most reality stars lie about.
She didn’t stay in WWE. She didn’t need to. Because long before Vince McMahon tried to sculpt her into a ring character, she was already something bigger: a living, breathing Norse myth with a side hustle and a smile that could sell a three-bedroom split-level in two hours.
In a world full of gimmicks, Sarah Bäckman is the rare kind of powerhouse who doesn’t need a script. She’s not playing a role.
She is the role.