Lucha libre is like religion in Mexico. It’s part of the culture, and it’s my life. I was born in El Paso but I’m Mexican – my family is from Juárez.

They call me the Liberace of lucha libre. I couldn’t hide my identity. Even though I tried putting a mask on, people knew I was different. I knew there had been exoticos (luchadors who fight in drag) since the 1940s, but it was just a gimmick. They were like the clowns of the circus. They weren’t gay, or if they were, they were still in the closet. With Cassandro, what you see is what you get.

I came out in 1987. It was hard because the other wrestlers tried to reject me and push me out of the sport. A lot of doors were shut in my face. But when they saw me in the ring, they saw that I was a true wrestler.

I started wearing the pantyhose and the bathing suit and then came the makeup, feathers, rhinestone… Even though Mexico has a very macho culture, people embraced me. They loved my hair, my makeup. They were like, “Wow! We gotta go see what he’s going to wear next!”.

Cassandra was a lady I knew in Tijuana. She had a burlesque place where she would dance and date a lot of people with a lot of money. But she did good with her money. She turned a house into a shelter home for beat up women and street kids. One of my wrestling tutors told me: “You gotta name yourself Cassandra.” But although that story touches me, I’m not a woman, so I decided to be Cassandro because I’m still a man. I’m just a gay man.

I can be sick, I can be tired but when I hear the people chanting “Cass-an-dro, Cass-an-dro” it’s the best medication. Lucha libre is about good versus evil and I’m one of the wrestlers that fans like. When I’m getting hurt they all scream at the other guy.

The lucha libre mask comes all the way from our ancestors, the indigenous Mayan communities who used to paint themselves so the enemy would not recognise them. The colours and the masks that people use are amazing and that’s what attracts the fans. I don’t wear a mask but I wear makeup. When I put my makeup on that is putting the mask on. And it’s amazing. Everytime it’s something different.

El Paso is home for me, although I am Mexican. There’s a beautiful scenic drive, where you can see Mexico and the US at the same time and three states, Chihuahua, Texas and New Mexico. I’d also show you the Mexican indigenous community – we do a lot of ceremonies, sweat lodges, name-giving, sun dance, moon dance.

Downtown El Paso. Photograph: Denis Tangney Jr/Getty Images

I worked at Chico’s Tacos for almost four years, while still wrestling. From 1997 to 2000 I was doing the tacos and ended up being the chef. They do roll tacos with tomato sauce but then the spicy salsa is what makes you come back… It will burn your stomach, but it’s really good.

We have a place here ranked among the top 25 in the US for nachos. It’s called The Tap and does cheese and beef and jalapeños. It’s delicious.

There’s Mexican wrestling every week in El Paso. I’m running shows and teaching lucha libre. I have about 20 pros who come so I can make them shine more. I love my lucha babies – they call me mama lucha.

Hold on a minute … Cassandro in action. Photograph: Frantzesco Kangaris for The Guardian

I love to dance. The best gay bar in El Paso is called Epic. It’s where the LGBT people – and lots of straight people, too – hang out. It’s just fun.

My heroes were never supermen or wonderwomen. My heroes were always luchadores. The wrestlers from Ciudad Juárez were real human beings. The first match I ever saw was back in 1980 in Ciudad Juárez and it was just amazing.

I didn’t know how to handle the money and fame and hit rock bottom. I went from living in a three-storey house with maids to living on the floor of the office of the union for the wrestlers. I didn’t know how to handle the money and fame and there was a lot of drugs and alcohol back in the days when I started and I’d been pushed and abused physically, verbally and sexually between the ages of six and 16. Today I’m a recovering addict and lucha libre has been the best medication and therapy I could ever ask for.

Nacho fantastico at The Tap, El Paso

The lucha libre mask comes all the way from our ancestors, the Mayan and indigenous communities who used to paint themselves so the enemy would not recognise them. The colours and the masks that people use are amazing and that’s what attracts the fans. I don’t wear a mask but I wear makeup. When I put my makeup on that is putting the mask on. And it’s amazing. Everytime it’s something different.

My favourite wrestling move is called the Pipila. If I get you in that hold you won’t be able to leave. It comes from the indigenous community, who used to roll the rocks on their backs and take them to where they were building. The move is the same, I put the guy in this hold and he ends up on my back and he can’t go nowhere. His hands and his feet are all tied up in my body – he’ll surrender or I’ll break his arm or legs. It looks so beautiful but it’s very painful.

You’ll see anyone from kids in their mama’s arms all the way to old people watching lucha libre. And they just scream their lungs out. They cheer and clap and they get frustrated – sometimes you don’t hear very good language in there!

• Cassandro will be performing at The Greatest Spectacle of Lucha Libre, 9-11 July, York Hall, London. luchalibreworld.co.uk