Blood, Grit, and No Gloves: Is Bare-Knuckle Boxing a Step Forward or a Bloody Setback?

By Billie Sloane, IFL TV

It’s raw. It’s brutal. It’s primal. And against all odds—it’s booming.

Once written off as a relic from a more savage era, bare-knuckle boxing has made a thunderous comeback. What began as a niche spectacle has muscled its way into the mainstream. Sold-out arenas, multi-million-view knockouts, and fighters you thought you’d never see again are now going viral with bloodied fists and battered faces.

But here’s the question—is this a bold revival of true combat? Or are we witnessing a regression into the most dangerous, unregulated corners of the fight world?

The Rise of the Unfiltered Fight

There’s no denying it: bare-knuckle boxing has struck a nerve.

For fans frustrated with padded records, long-winded negotiations, and fights that don’t deliver fireworks, this is the antidote. There’s a rawness to it that cuts through the noise. No gloves. No time to feel things out. Just a few short rounds of full-throttle violence.

Fighters step into the ring not to box elegantly, but to fight. That difference is crucial. There’s no room to coast to a decision. Fighters throw with bad intentions from the first bell, and fans—many of whom feel disillusioned by the political mess of modern boxing—can’t look away.

What’s more, bare-knuckle promotions have become a lifeline for overlooked fighters. Ex-UFC veterans like Mike Perry, Paige VanZant, and Eddie Alvarez have found new relevance in the sport. Former boxers and journeymen, long ignored by the big platforms, are being given main event slots and decent paydays. For them, this is more than spectacle—it’s survival.

It’s also, weirdly, become a home for redemption stories. Fighters cast aside by traditional systems are building cult followings and putting on the kinds of wars fans still talk about days later.

But Is This Really Progress?

Let’s not dress it up too much—bare-knuckle boxing is hard to watch for some, and for good reason.

The damage is immediate and visible. Faces get torn open. Hands break. Medical suspensions pile up. While promoters argue that the lack of gloves reduces the volume of head trauma due to shorter exchanges, what we’re often seeing are fights that leave long-lasting physical marks after just five rounds.

Then there’s the risk of bare-knuckle becoming more spectacle than sport. The marketing leans heavily on blood, carnage, and the gladiator fantasy. It walks a tightrope between legitimate competition and car crash viewing. Are we here to watch skill and strategy? Or just two people beating each other senseless for views and clicks?

It’s a fine line—and one that combat sports have historically struggled to balance.

A Threat to Traditional Boxing? Or Just a New Lane?

What’s particularly interesting is how bare-knuckle is pulling from the talent pool of traditional boxing and MMA. Fighters disillusioned with drawn-out career paths and exploitative contracts are crossing over. Why grind through six-figure gatekeeper fights in boxing or sit on a UFC undercard for 20 grand, when you can headline a bare-knuckle event, earn more, and walk away with your name trending?

But here’s the catch—bare-knuckle, at least for now, still relies heavily on names built elsewhere. It hasn’t produced its own superstar from scratch. Remove the ex-UFC names, the former boxing champs, the MMA personalities—and what remains? Can it build sustainable stars within its own ecosystem?

And what does this shift mean for boxing as a whole? Does bare-knuckle’s rise expose the gaps in boxing’s system—the lack of urgency, the endless politics, the fights that don’t happen until it’s too late? Or is this simply another combat niche that will flame bright, then fade like so many others before it?

Step Forward or Bloody Backward?

It’s not an easy answer. Bare-knuckle boxing is breathing new life into parts of the fight game—but it's doing it with blood on its hands.

On one hand, it's providing fighters with new opportunities, fans with unforgettable wars, and promoters with a product that cuts through the modern attention span. On the other, it raises uncomfortable questions about long-term safety, legitimacy, and whether we’re watching a sport evolve—or devolve.

So, is this the future of fighting, stripped back to its brutal core? Or are we heading down a road where the spectacle overtakes the sport—and fighters pay the price?

When the gloves come off, are we getting closer to boxing’s roots?

Or are we just watching combat sports lose theirs?