Arm wrestling — often used to settle disputes among siblings or as a way for teenage boys to show off — doesn’t seem like an activity that would be especially welcoming or comfortable for LGBTQ+ people. But it’s not just for whiny kids and toxic masculinity. Through Queer Arm Wrestling, an emerging tournament and community, Jett Biggert is cultivating a much different experience for enthusiasts here in Philadelphia.
“Queer Arm Wrestling, to me, is about finding friendship and community,” said Biggert, who created an ongoing event and emerging community that centers connection, safety and self-expression. “I describe it as a space for queers and their friends.”
Biggert describes themself as a Friend — capital F. That’s important to them, they underlined, because they’ve struggled in the past to understand where or how they fit into different places, including queer-centered experiences.
“I think it’s a lot more powerful than an ally, because friendship indicates that there’s a personal connection between these two people,” they said. “It’s about having the space to have our dichotomies and our differences and holding space for that while learning and growing together.”
Although arm wrestling is mostly silly fun, it’s also a ritual that helps people practice being in opposition with one another — modeling healthy conflict through play, how to win and lose with dignity and respect, and how to embrace each other’s differences.
Gatherings — which only cost $5 to $10 for entry — also serve as fundraisers for LGBTQ+ community groups and mutual aid efforts. Contributions have ranged from a few hundred dollars to almost $2000 collected during the last event.
“When we collectively add just a little bit of money, we can actually make a pretty big impact on a small organization,” Biggert said.
Biggert — who is involved with Philly’s AWFUL Wrestling, where amateur WWE-style performers throw down in a 12 x 12 ring — got the idea to launch an arm wrestling group after attending an event hosted by a Baltimore-based group.
“It was absolutely the first time I ever really tried to arm wrestle,” they said, laughing as they explained that it was there they learned they’re actually pretty good at it.
Biggert joined a bimonthly skillshare group for queer locals to practice techniques, then hosted Philly’s first tournament in June 2024, welcoming 40 attendees and participants to the Ministry of Awe in Old City. Two more gatherings took place in 2025 — including a sold-out event on Valentine’s Day that brought out 140 people.
Each show is developed from the crowd itself, Biggert explained — noting that there’s less preparation than events that need a full ring. Rather than a rehearsed production, organizers improvise based on whoever comes out that night.
Joel, who attended Queer Arm Wrestling’s February event, had never arm wrestled in a serious way before and wasn’t initially sure how to self-rate his abilities. He initially thought he might be a 2 out of 4, but when organizers sought people to move up to a higher tier, he decided to join the level 3 group.
No one is forced to arm wrestle — but those who are interested put their names in a hat for random selection of 20 or so matches. Out of more than 100 attendees, three of the five people Joel went with got to compete. Many of the other participants, including Joel’s friends, also had little or no experience arm wrestling, but rules and safety tips are presented before each match.
“There were some really good matches and some really close matches,” he said, “which I thought was really interesting given the random nature of everybody signing up.”
The tournament includes two major brackets — one for “noodle arms” and one for “Popeyes” — so that people of all skill levels and abilities can have a good time.
Before competitors arm wrestled, they were asked to give their opponent a compliment — which Joel appreciated, as it built a camaraderie and reminded participants that the point of the experience was to just have fun and make friends.
“It’s a super safe, queer space,” Joel explained, noting how necessary it is to have a place dedicated to carefree fun and celebration during a time when the LGBTQ+ community is on high alert.
It was a two-and-a-half-hour spectacle. Those who didn’t get placed for brackets chose sides and cheered for participants. Joel won the Popeye bracket — and his friend, who came out on top against the noodle arms, almost beat him in their face-off.
“When I left, I felt really good about myself and about being around other people,” Joel said.
Those who came in costumes were invited to participate in super matches — non-bracketed events that involved improvisational performances by characters with big personalities, punny names, catchphrases, outlandish outfits and minions. One of the February match-ups placed a villain with an inflatable muscle arm and henchmen against a swimmer dressed in a bathing suit and inner tube.
“It’s a ton of fun,” Joel said. “There was a lot of laughing.”
Sheila Lorrett Emerson, who also attended the February event, was inspired to come back in character — Stubborn Old Bat — for Queer Arm Wrestling’s next show on May 9.
“That’s how I’ve gotten through life — being stubborn and insisting on doing what I need to do and getting the job done,” Emerson said, noting that the idea originated when her daughter attempted to make fun of her with the nickname.
“We will bounce back up again,” she said, describing the character as a weeble that wobbles but won’t fall down. “And that’s the backstory for Stubborn Old Bat.”
Emerson, who is almost 60, plans to wear a bat nose, ears and cape for her costume and wants to trim a bat into her short, curly hair for the event. She’s also going to lift up her sleeves and wave her “bat wings” — the loose skin that tends to flap as people move their upper arms, celebrating her aging body.
She’s working on ways to hype up the crowd with her uplifting and encouraging spirit. This past decade has been all about self-discovery and curiosity — and she hopes to inspire others to approach life with a similar attitude.
“There’s something beautiful about each day, no matter how tough it is,” she said. “Find it, hold on to it, celebrate it.”
Emerson, who is neurodivergent, wants people to celebrate diversity and honor what makes themselves unique. To her, this message is especially fitting coming from a bat because they’re undervalued and marginalized creatures who are often misunderstood.
“That’s what I am as a human being,” she said. “I’m in an underrepresented, marginalized group, and my bat character represents all that — all the beauty, strength, the history.”
It’s the first time Emerson has ever explored cosplay or performance art — but she’s already developing a bit of a fan club (the “Bat Pack”) and is taking ambassadorship seriously, inviting neighbors and new acquaintances to get involved.
The Queer Arm Wrestling community is growing fast — much faster than Biggert ever expected. Finding venues to accommodate such large crowds has been a challenge, so they’re looking for new opportunities to collaborate.
The upcoming event in May has room for just 80 attendees — and tickets are expected to sell out fast. But there will be a second chance to get in on the action this summer. The venue for a show in collboration with a queer roller circus on June 28 boasts capacity for more than 200 guests.
“It speaks to something in a lot of us,” Biggert said about why they believe the events are so popular. “It can be so silly, and it’s really just like a nice excuse to hold hands aggressively with a friend or stranger — which is also right up my alley.”
Queer Arm Wrestling’s next event is at 7 p.m. on May 9 at Space 1026, located at 844 N. Broad St. To get tickets for the show or learn more about other upcoming events, visit @queerarmwrestling on Instagram.