The Rise of Women's Bare Knuckle Fighting: How BKFC Built a Division From Scratch
There was no roadmap. When the Bare Knuckle Fighting Championship staged its first sanctioned women's bout in 2018, the concept of women fighting bare knuckle for a professional paycheck was not controversial in the way that inspires debate -- it was controversial in the way that inspires blank stares. Nobody had tried it because nobody believed there was an audience for it. Nobody believed there was an audience for it because nobody had tried it.
Eight years later, women's bare knuckle fighting has become one of the most compelling divisions in combat sports. BKFC now operates three women's weight classes, has crowned multiple champions, sells pay-per-views headlined by women, and pays its top female fighters six figures per bout. The women's division is no longer a curiosity or a sideshow. It is a structural pillar of the fastest-growing combat sports promotion in the world, and it got there by doing something deceptively simple: letting women fight and then paying attention to what happened next.
This is the story of how that division was built, who built it, and where it is headed.
The Foundation: A Sport With No Female Precedent
Bare knuckle boxing has existed for centuries, but for the vast majority of that history, women were excluded entirely. The London Prize Ring Rules, the Broughton Rules, the Marquess of Queensberry Rules -- none of them contemplated female participation, and when bare knuckle fighting went underground in the late 19th century, it became an even more exclusively male domain.
When David Feldman founded BKFC and secured the first legal bare knuckle event in Wyoming in 2018, including women on the card was not an afterthought -- it was a deliberate business decision. The UFC had already proven, through Ronda Rousey and the creation of women's divisions, that female combat athletes could drive pay-per-view numbers, merchandise sales, and social media engagement at levels equal to or exceeding their male counterparts. Feldman recognized that a promotion without women was a promotion leaving money, narrative depth, and cultural relevance on the table.
But recognizing the opportunity was the easy part. Finding women willing to fight bare knuckle -- at a time when the sport had zero track record, zero safety data, and zero proof of financial viability -- was considerably harder.
The Pioneers: Britain Hart and Bec Rawlings
Every revolution needs someone willing to go first. In women's bare knuckle fighting, that distinction belongs to Britain Hart and Bec Rawlings, two fighters who arrived at the sport from very different directions but shared a willingness to step into unknown territory without guarantees.
Bec Rawlings, an Australian fighter with UFC experience, brought immediate credibility. She had competed on the biggest stage in mixed martial arts and was willing to attach her name to something entirely unproven. Her presence signaled to other female fighters that BKFC was not a fringe operation -- it was a place where professionals could compete.
Britain Hart brought something different: authenticity forged in adversity. Hart came to bare knuckle from a professional boxing career interrupted by poverty, homelessness, and personal hardship. She had lived out of her car. She had fought for tiny purses in near-empty venues. When BKFC offered her the chance to fight bare knuckle, she did not need convincing. She needed a paycheck, and she was willing to earn it with her hands unwrapped.
Hart lost her BKFC debut to Christine Ferea at BKFC 5 in April 2019, a second-round TKO that could have been the end of her bare knuckle story. Instead, it became the beginning. Hart absorbed the loss, rebuilt, and eventually became the fighter most synonymous with women's bare knuckle fighting. Her journey from that initial defeat to becoming the inaugural BKFC Women's Strawweight Champion -- through losses, rematches, and a grinding upward trajectory -- is the foundational narrative of the entire division.
The Star: Paige VanZant and the Mainstream Moment
If Hart and Rawlings built the foundation, Paige VanZant kicked the door open to the mainstream.
VanZant signed with BKFC in August 2020 in a deal reportedly worth more than any contract BKFC had offered to that point. The signing was a seismic event for the promotion. VanZant was not just a former UFC fighter -- she was a genuine celebrity with millions of social media followers, mainstream media recognition, and crossover appeal that transcended combat sports. She had appeared on Dancing with the Stars. She had a cookbook. She had a social media following larger than most professional sports teams.
Her BKFC debut at KnuckleMania I in February 2021, headlining against Britain Hart, was the single most important event in the history of women's bare knuckle fighting. It was not because of the quality of the fight itself -- Hart won a decision in a bout that was competitive but not spectacular. It was because the event proved, with hard numbers, that women's bare knuckle fighting could be a main event. VanZant's presence drove pay-per-view buys, social media engagement, and media coverage at levels BKFC had never achieved. The fact that Hart, the less famous fighter, won the fight only made the narrative better. It proved that BKFC was not simply buying celebrity; it was showcasing genuine competition where skill and toughness mattered more than Instagram followers.
VanZant's impact on the division cannot be measured solely by her win-loss record. She brought eyeballs. She brought sponsors. She brought mainstream media credibility. And she brought other fighters -- women who saw VanZant making real money in bare knuckle and decided it was worth exploring. The pipeline of talent into BKFC's women's divisions accelerated measurably after VanZant's signing, and that acceleration has not slowed.
The Champion: Christine Ferea and the Establishment of a GOAT
While VanZant brought the attention, Christine Ferea brought the dominance.
Ferea is, by any reasonable measure, the greatest female bare knuckle fighter in the history of the sport. She won the inaugural BKFC Women's Flyweight Championship at KnuckleMania 2 in February 2022 by defeating Britain Hart via unanimous decision in a rematch of their 2019 bout. She then defended that title multiple times while establishing a reputation for power, aggression, and a finishing instinct that made her appointment viewing.
In October 2025, Ferea cemented her legacy even further by winning the inaugural "Queen of Violence" title at BKFC 82, stopping Jessica Borga via fourth-round TKO in a bantamweight bout that earned her a Performance of the Night bonus. The Queen of Violence concept -- a special title designed to crown the most dangerous woman in bare knuckle fighting -- was itself a signal of how far the women's division had come. BKFC was not simply adding women to cards; it was creating title lineages, narrative arcs, and promotional concepts built specifically around its female athletes.
Ferea's guaranteed purse for major title defenses has reportedly reached $250,000, with challengers earning $150,000 in guaranteed money. Those numbers place her squarely in the upper tier of combat sports compensation for female fighters -- not just in bare knuckle, but across boxing and MMA as well.
The International Wave: Tai Emery and the Global Expansion
The women's division has gone global. Tai Emery, an Australian Muay Thai fighter with a flair for the dramatic, became one of BKFC's most talked-about female fighters after building a 2-1 record and earning a title shot against Britain Hart at BKFC 71 in Dubai in April 2025. Hart won that bout by unanimous decision, but Emery's presence on a card in the Middle East illustrated how far the women's division had expanded geographically.
BKFC now holds women's bouts on cards across multiple continents. The promotion's expansion into Thailand and Asia, followed by the 2026 announcement of a partnership with Bollywood star Tiger Shroff for an India launch, means that women's bare knuckle fighting is no longer an American phenomenon. It is becoming a global one, with fighters from Australia, Brazil, Mexico, the United Kingdom, and beyond competing for BKFC titles.
Pearl Gonzalez, another former UFC fighter, added further depth to the roster when she crossed over to BKFC, continuing the pipeline from mixed martial arts to bare knuckle that has become one of the women's division's most reliable talent sources. Former UFC fighters recognize that BKFC offers something the UFC often does not for women outside the championship picture: main event slots, promotional attention, and competitive compensation.
The Money Question: Pay Equity in Bare Knuckle Fighting
Pay equity in combat sports has been a contentious topic for decades, and bare knuckle fighting occupies a complicated position in that conversation.
On one hand, BKFC has done more than most promotions to pay its top female fighters competitively. VanZant publicly stated that she was earning roughly ten times what the UFC paid her -- approximately $400,000 per fight compared to $80,000 in UFC show-and-win money. Christine Ferea's purses have reached the $250,000 range. These are meaningful numbers that compare favorably to what many male BKFC fighters earn.
On the other hand, the pay gap at the lower end of the women's division remains significant. Entry-level female bare knuckle fighters earn considerably less than their male counterparts, and the depth of the women's roster -- while growing -- still lags behind the men's divisions. There are fewer fights available, fewer card slots allocated to women's bouts, and fewer pathways to the paydays that fighters like Ferea and VanZant have achieved.
The broader pattern mirrors what has happened in the UFC: a small number of women at the top earn competitive money, while the majority of the division fights for purses that reflect the promotion's lower investment in depth and development. BKFC has been better than most promotions at showcasing women in main events and co-main events, which helps drive purse growth, but the structural inequality at the bottom of the card remains unresolved.
There is also the question of whether the women's division benefits from the same revenue-sharing dynamics as the men's. BKFC does not publicly disclose its revenue split, and the absence of a fighters' union or collective bargaining mechanism means that pay negotiation is entirely individualized. Fighters with leverage -- name recognition, social media followings, or championship status -- can negotiate effectively. Fighters without that leverage take what they are offered.
Three Weight Classes and Growing
BKFC currently operates three women's weight classes: strawweight (115 pounds), flyweight (125 pounds), and featherweight (145 pounds). The expansion from a single division to three represents the growing depth of the women's roster and the increasing demand for women's bouts from both fans and broadcast partners.
The strawweight division, anchored by Britain Hart's championship reign, has been the most active and competitive. Hart has defended the title multiple times and has fought the most main events of any fighter -- male or female -- in BKFC history. The flyweight division, formerly Ferea's domain, has seen the most high-profile title bouts. The featherweight division, the newest of the three, is still developing its contender hierarchy but has attracted fighters from boxing, MMA, and Muay Thai backgrounds.
There is credible speculation that a bantamweight division (135 pounds) may be formalized, particularly given Ferea's success at that weight with the Queen of Violence title. The depth of talent available at 135 pounds -- drawing from both the flyweight and featherweight ranks -- would support a dedicated championship, and the narrative of Ferea potentially holding titles at two weights would be a significant promotional asset.
What Comes Next: The Growth Trajectory
The trajectory of women's bare knuckle fighting mirrors, with a notable time delay, the trajectory of women's MMA. The parallels are striking:
Phase 1 -- Pioneer Period (2018-2020): A small group of willing fighters proved that women's bare knuckle fighting was viable. Matchmaking was limited by roster depth. Fights were mostly on undercards. Media attention was minimal.
Phase 2 -- Celebrity Catalyst (2020-2022): VanZant's signing brought mainstream attention. Hart and Ferea established themselves as genuine championship-level fighters. Women's bouts moved to main events and co-main events. Title fights were created.
Phase 3 -- Division Maturation (2022-2025): Multiple weight classes were established. International fighters joined the roster. Pay for top female fighters reached six figures. The Queen of Violence concept demonstrated that the women's division could sustain its own event-level narratives.
Phase 4 -- Global Expansion (2025-present): Women's bouts on international cards across Dubai, Thailand, the United Kingdom, and soon India. Growing depth at every weight class. Increasing media coverage and broadcast partner interest.
The question is whether Phase 5 involves genuine parity -- equal card placement, equal promotional investment, and compensation structures that reflect the revenue women's bouts generate rather than historical assumptions about their commercial value. The UFC has wrestled with this question for over a decade and has not fully resolved it. BKFC has the advantage of building from a smaller base with fewer legacy structures to overcome, but it also has the disadvantage of operating in a sport where the audience is still overwhelmingly male and where the cultural resistance to women fighting without gloves remains higher than the resistance to women fighting with them.
The Bigger Picture
What women's bare knuckle fighting has achieved in eight years is remarkable by any standard. A sport with zero female precedent now has champions, contenders, rivalries, title lineages, and fighters earning six-figure purses. Britain Hart went from living in her car to headlining pay-per-views. Christine Ferea built a case for being the greatest female bare knuckle fighter who has ever lived. Paige VanZant proved that the mainstream audience was ready for women's bare knuckle fighting before the industry was.
The division is not perfect. Pay at the lower tiers is insufficient. Roster depth outside the top five at each weight class remains thin. Medical and safety protocols, while improving, still lag behind what female athletes receive in boxing and MMA. The promotional infrastructure -- training resources, developmental programs, and international scouting -- is still being built.
But the direction is unmistakable. Women's bare knuckle fighting is growing faster than the sport as a whole, and the fighters who built it from nothing are still young enough to be competing when the next generation arrives. That is the rarest kind of progress in combat sports: the kind where the pioneers get to see the world they created.
The question is no longer whether women belong in bare knuckle fighting. The question is how big the women's division can get, how fast it can get there, and whether the sport will do right by the fighters who built it. The answer to the first two questions looks increasingly promising. The answer to the third will define whether the rise of women's bare knuckle fighting becomes a genuine success story or another chapter in combat sports' long history of exploiting its most important assets.