If Dakota Kai were a mixtape, she’d be pressed on purple vinyl, side A laced with the beatdown of Shayna Baszler’s arm-stomp debut, and side B a soft-spoken Twitch stream whispered under RGB lights. The woman born Cheree Georgina Crowley in the relatively serene outposts of New Zealand turned into WWE’s favorite chaos butterfly — fluttering from cutesy underdog to face-stomping heel with all the finesse of a Tasmanian devil on espresso. She wasn’t just Evie from IPW anymore. She was Dakota Kai — Damage CTRL’s nerve center, Raquel’s right hand (until she broke it), and the sweetest menace to ever wear pastel kickpads.
Evie of the Shire: From Eevee to Armageddon
Before the Performance Center tightened her laces and filtered her promos, she was Evie — inspired by a Pokémon, fighting like a Final Fantasy boss. The indie scene loved her. She kicked skulls in SHIMMER, SHINE, and Stardom, becoming the happy tornado that cleaned up rings and left opponents blinking through the lights. In Stardom, she held gold with Hiroyo Matsumoto and Kellie Skater, sharing the Artist of Stardom title like a traveling communion cup — but without the peace.
When WWE came knocking in 2015, she was ready — for tryouts, for heartbreak, and for the Mae Young Classic. She didn’t win the tournament, but she did win the crowd. She had the underdog look of someone about to be broken, but surprise! She broke you first.
The Babyface Gets Teeth
For a while, Dakota played the part of the plucky babyface in NXT. She was the human embodiment of “please and thank you,” if “please” meant “please let me kick you in the temple” and “thank you” meant “thanks for bleeding.” She got destroyed by Shayna Baszler so convincingly it launched a six-month redemption arc. That’s wrestling for you — the best stories are just therapy with pyrotechnics.
But NXT didn’t stay sweet for long.
After forming Team Kick with Tegan Nox, Dakota flipped the script at WarGames 2019 by turning heel in one of the most savage betrayals since Judas. No slow build, no hesitations. Just a steel door and a friend’s kneecap. This wasn’t a turn — it was a character transplant. Gone was the wide-eyed Kiwi; in came the mean girl from middle school gym class — only this one carried brass knuckles and a deep understanding of tag team psychology.
Raquel and the Tower of Power
Enter Raquel González — the beefy enforcer to Kai’s scheming tactician. Together, they became the NXT Women’s Tag Champs, the Dusty Classic winners, and a mainstay on every “Top Ten Tag Teams You Forgot WWE Had” listicle. Dakota was the heart, Raquel the hammer. They were peanut butter and barbed wire.
And then, in true wrestling fashion, Dakota betrayed Raquel, too. You don’t stay friends in NXT. You stab backs and smile during the photo ops.
Their feud climaxed in a series of matches that felt like Kill Bill: Volume Kai, with Dakota playing the jilted warrior nun. But the story didn’t end with gold — it ended with goodbye. In 2022, she was released. The WWE machine spit her out like a used toothpick.
SummerSlam Resurrections & Damage CTRL
But then, boom. SummerSlam 2022 — Dakota Kai storms back like a glitch in the system. Repackaged as the soul of Damage CTRL with Bayley and Iyo Sky, she became the sarcastic sniper in a stable full of world-class assassins. They screamed chaos with fashion-forward swagger, like Mean Girls with steel chairs.
She won the WWE Women’s Tag Team Titles twice with Iyo Sky. She main-evented international tours. She even wrestled in the first women’s title change in Saudi Arabia. Not bad for someone who once dressed like a Pokémon.
And through it all, Dakota remained WWE’s emotional barometer. Every win was a therapy session. Every betrayal felt personal. Every injury? A goddamn tragedy.
Injuries, Concussions, and Exit Wounds
Her body broke the way only a pro wrestler’s body can — in weird, poetic ways. Torn ACL. Torn meniscus. Concussion. You name a joint, and Dakota Kai has iced it while whispering to herself, “It’s fine, I’ll stream on Twitch.”
Each return came with momentum, but every time she caught fire, the medical staff hit her with the wet blanket of reality. Her final match? A quiet one — a win over Ivy Nile on Main Event. Like all good finales, it wasn’t supposed to be the end.
But in May 2025, she was released again — not with a bang, but with a tweet.
The Girl from Lepea
Off-camera, Dakota Kai was always more than a wrestler. Her Samoan roots traced back to Lepea, a place known for hard-hitting rugby and tougher women. Her grandfather, Pat Crowley, was an All Black. Her sister punches people in MMA. And Dakota? She wrecks house in gaming lobbies, hosts a podcast with Zelina Vega, and keeps house with Shayna Baszler like a sitcom you’re not ready to pitch yet.
She’s funny. She’s weird. She’s kind. And she can turn your vertebrae into popcorn if you look at her the wrong way.
Legacy: The Sweetest Heel
Dakota Kai didn’t need a world title to matter. She mattered because she was the bridge. Between the indie stars and the main roster. Between smiles and stabs. Between sportsmanship and sabotage. She was a babyface for people who hate babyfaces. A heel for people who hate heels. A contradiction wrapped in a hoodie and laced boots.
Her WWE career was a mixtape of mayhem, heartbreak, and perfectly timed superkicks. And now, like the song she once cameoed in — “Sweet December” — her career fades into something poetic. Something unresolved.
Until she returns again. Because if we’ve learned anything from Dakota Kai, it’s this:
She’s too stubborn to stay gone.