The Empire of Testosterone: From the Octagon to the Oval — And Why It Feels Like Liberation! By Charles Taylor (Florida)
In a recent Wall Street Journal profile, UFC president Dana White boils down the overlap between his combat-sports empire and Donald Trump's political base to one word: testosterone.
When asked what connects the blood-and-sweat world of cage fighting to the MAGA rallies, White doesn't hedge. No talk of policy, economics, or shared enemies. Just "testosterone."
That single, blunt answer landed like a clean hook because it names something a lot of men have felt but rarely heard said out loud: the hunger for unapologetic, primal masculine energy in a culture that often treats it like a problem to be managed.
The Suppression Was Real — And the Backlash is MassiveFor years, traditional male traits — physical dominance, risk-taking, raw competitiveness — have been framed as toxic, outdated, or even pathological. Corporate training sessions push "emotional intelligence" over assertiveness. Media and academia emphasise vulnerability and empathy while sidelining strength and stoicism. Testosterone itself gets pathologised: too much is "problematic," too little is treated with suspicion if it manifests as drive or aggression.
Men were told to sit down, soften up, apologise for ambition, and suppress the instincts that once built civilisations. The result? Widespread malaise — declining male university enrolment, skyrocketing male suicide rates, plummeting sperm counts, and a quiet exodus from institutions that no longer feel welcoming.
Then came Dana White's empire; Fight Club (1999) come alive!
He didn't build the UFC by apologising for violence or dialling back the spectacle. He doubled down. From a fringe "human cockfighting" outfit bought for $2 million in the 1990s, he turned it into a $20 billion+ juggernaut under TKO Group Holdings. A fresh $7.7 billion media deal with Paramount streams fights on Paramount+ starting this year. Power Slap racks up viral views. Boxing gets a revival push through Saudi-backed partnerships. And now, in a move that feels almost surreal, a full UFC event is slated for the White House South Lawn in June 2026 — part of America's 250th birthday celebrations.
The octagon is literally landing on the most powerful address in the world.
Why "Testosterone" Resonates NowWhite's empire isn't just entertainment; it's a cultural counterweight. Every sold-out arena, every knockout, every Power Slap clip that blows up on YouTube is a reclamation. Men pack these events not because they're bloodthirsty (though some are), but because the space celebrates what they're told to hide elsewhere: strength, grit, dominance, risk, victory without qualifiers.
It's permission to feel alive in a body that wants to move, compete, and win. No HR seminar required. No apology for enjoying the rush of seeing one man impose his will on another.
The political crossover makes perfect sense. Trump's brand — border walls, tariffs, "America First" swagger — channels the same high-energy, unfiltered masculinity. White himself says he'd "do anything" for Trump; they talk monthly (mostly about fights), and early UFC events got a lifeline from Trump's Atlantic City casinos when politicians like John McCain were trying to ban the sport.
This isn't coincidence. It's convergence. The same cultural forces that once tried to marginalise cage fighting are the ones that painted Trump's style as dangerous or uncouth. Both survived, thrived, and now share stages.
The Payoff: Vitality Over RestraintCritics will call it toxic, barbaric, regressive. They'll point to CTE risks, gambling scandals (White says he calls the FBI the second a fight smells off), or the alienation of audiences who prefer safer spectacles.
Fair points. But the numbers don't lie: UFC events sell out stadiums. Power Slap clips dominate algorithms. And a president hosts a cage fight on the South Lawn.
Men aren't flocking to this empire because they hate women, empathy, or progress. They're showing up because it feels like the opposite of suppression. It's a space where masculine energy is an asset, not a liability. Where winning isn't euphemised as "participation." Where testosterone isn't a dirty word — it's the fuel.
Dana White didn't invent that hunger. He just built an empire on it. And now that empire stretches all the way to the White House. What happens when the cage moves to the lawn? When the symbol of raw power literally occupies the seat of institutional power? We're about to find out.
