In a world full of cookie-cutter wrestlers trying to be brands before they’re even brawlers, Karen Glennon stepped into the ring with smeared eyeliner, fishnets, and a personality that hit harder than a forearm shiver. You know her as Session Moth Martina—a whirlwind of cans, chaos, and charisma who kicked down the locker room door and made wrestling fun again, whether it liked it or not.
She’s what happens when you feed Missy Hyatt a four-pack of Dutch Gold, crank up the Spice Girls, and let her loose in a Belfast alley at 3 a.m.
Born in Ireland and raised in the trenches of the UK indie scene, Martina didn’t show up to play it straight. She wasn’t here to be a “Women’s Evolution” soundbite or a poster child for technical purism. No, she came out with glowsticks and glitter, danced to her own booze-soaked beat, and made you laugh seconds before she kicked your teeth in.
Her early days were a boozy pilgrimage through the concrete meccas of British and Irish promotions. Over the Top Wrestling (OTT) became her pulpit. She was their messiah of mayhem. A 2-time OTT Women’s Champion. A Gender Neutral Champion. The crowd didn’t just cheer her—they sang with her, drank with her, lived vicariously through her like she was the rock star they were too sober to become.
And that’s the secret sauce of Martina. She’s not playing a character. She’s the part of you that wants to scream at 3 a.m., kiss the wrong person, and still roll into work the next day. She’s chaos, wrapped in spandex and spiked punch.
In Progress Wrestling, she came into the Natural Progression Series IV like a misfit crashing a private school dance. She didn’t win. She didn’t care. Dahlia Black got her hand raised, but the crowd walked away remembering the girl with the “don’t give a toss” swagger and a grin that said, “I’ll be back—drunker and deadlier.”
Her ICW run in 2018-2019 was pure punk rock. Glasgow isn’t for the faint of heart, and Martina showed up with heart, headbutts, and heelish humor. She beat Kasey Owens to win the ICW Women’s Championship at Square Go!, then dropped the belt to Viper the very next night. Classic Martina: burn fast, burn bright, leave the belt with someone else to worry about. She didn’t need hardware to prove she belonged—just give her a mic, a can, and someone stupid enough to think she’s all shtick.
But don’t let the party girl persona fool you. Underneath the pints and pelvic thrusts, there’s a wrestler who’s traveled the world, thrown hands with the best, and outlasted a generation of wrestlers who had ten times the hype and half the soul.
Take her time in Stardom, Japan’s sacred temple of Joshi wrestling. Most outsiders drown in the precision and pace of that scene. Not Martina. She didn’t just survive—she joined Oedo Tai, Stardom’s baddest girl gang. At Mask Fiesta 2018, she became Fancy Maruyama, wearing a mask and teaming with chaos incarnate. It was weird, wonderful, and very Martina. She didn’t adapt to Stardom—Stardom adapted to her.
Then came the call from America.
The WWE wanted her. Think about that. The company that made stars out of sanitized gimmicks and overproduced promos wanted a beer-soaked banshee from Dublin to join their corporate circus. She said no.
Let that sink in. She turned them down.
Because Ring of Honor came knocking too—and they didn’t want to change her. They wanted her. In February 2020, she made her ROH debut, beating Sumie Sakai at Free Enterprise. The crowd didn’t get Martina—they felt her. The booze, the bravado, the brilliance.
As ROH wound down its final chapters in 2022, fans and wrestlers alike whispered the same thing:
“She’s the most charismatic women’s wrestler not in WWE or AEW.”
Well, that didn’t last long.
She showed up in AEW on Dark: Elevation, taking on Ruby Soho. She lost, but that’s not the point. Martina has always been the kind of wrestler who doesn’t need a victory to steal the show. You win the match, she wins the moment.
Because here’s the truth they don’t teach at wrestling school:
Martina gets over in every country, every crowd, every context—because you can’t fake that kind of chaos.
She’s the anti-establishment superstar, a wrestling anomaly who doesn’t need five-star ratings or Meltzer kisses. She drinks from the can, flips the bird, and treats wrestling not as sacred art—but as the beautiful, absurd, punk-glam circus it’s always been at its best.
Her opponents underestimate her. Her fans worship her. Her legacy? It’s still being written in karaoke bars, backstage beers, and late-night brawls where the air smells like sweat and laughter.
She’s the outlaw in a sport full of company men. The hurricane in fishnets. The one woman who can say she was too wild for Vince McMahon and too magnetic to ignore anywhere else.
Session Moth Martina doesn’t follow the rules. She pre-games with them, sets them on fire, and moons the crowd while they burn.
So if you see her stumbling toward the ring, glitter in her hair and mischief in her step, don’t blink.
You’re about to see what happens when charisma becomes a contact sport.
