Photographs by Ariel Fisher for TIME
Story by Sean Gregory / Las Vegas and Miami
MAY 26, 2026 10:29 AM PT
Dana White marches in lockstep with President Donald Trump into a downtown Miami arena as the Kid Rock song “American Bad Ass” blares over the loudspeakers.
The longtime boss of the Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC), dressed in his signature all-black attire, maintains a steely glare as Trump waves, shakes hands, and raises a fist, soaking in the adulation. Two American featherweights, Cub Swanson and Nate Landwehr, are kicking off the UFC 327 main card at the Kaseya Center on this mid-April Saturday night, and Trump snaps a photo with Swanson’s wife Kenda and their three children—an 8-year-old daughter, Royal, and 7-year-old twin sons, King and Saint—by the Octagon.
The Politics of a UFC Fight at the White House
Within minutes, Trump’s Vice President, JD Vance, will tell the world that after 21 hours of talks in Islamabad, officials had failed to reach a deal to end the war with Iran. But this will not alter Trump’s plans for the evening. A bona fide UFC buff, Trump settles into his cage-side seat next to White to view the fight on the bloodstained mat in front of them. Surrounded by, among others, Secretary of State Marco Rubio and several family members, Trump stares bluntly as Swanson and Landwehr go at it. Swanson’s children, to the President’s immediate left, do not. Royal buries her head in Kenda’s armpit. Saint, on the verge of tears, covers his mouth with his hands. King clasps his head, ready to shield his eyes if need be. “I mean, look at this sh-t,” White says to me. “Imagine being these little kids and seeing your dad do this.”
In these moments, the brutal nature of mixed martial arts (MMA)—a sport involving a ruthless combination of punching, kicking, and grappling—isn’t lost on White. He says one of his proudest achievements is that no one has died during a UFC competition. MMA was once considered so savage that at the turn of the century, unlike pornography and other controversial fare, it wasn’t even carried on pay-per-view in many places. Now, the UFC is so mainstream that CBS, a network that on Saturday nights once aired Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, is showing Swanson club Landwehr’s cranium with his right hand, knocking him out in the first round.
Photograph by Ariel Fisher for TIME
The crowd erupts. The kids are all smiles. Trump congratulates the Swanson family. And the surreal nature of what White has built sets in. The UFC packs arenas around the world, and the most powerful person on the planet, right beside White, is its promoter in chief. “What a scene,” says White, 56. “There are some nights, I’ll get up at the end and go, ‘What the f-ck do I do for a living?’”
He’s about to experience another such evening. On June 14, Flag Day and Trump’s 80th birthday, the UFC is staging an event on the South Lawn of the White House, a spectacle that will also serve as the unofficial opening of a summerlong celebration of America’s 250th anniversary. Dubbed UFC Freedom 250, the card features American Justin Gaethje taking on the UFC’s second-ranked pound-for-pound fighter, Ilia Topuria of Georgia, in the main event. It also serves as a career capstone for White, whose clout is only growing both inside and outside the Octagon. White not only leads a $1.5 billion operation, he also played a key role in Trump’s 2024 presidential campaign, introducing him at the 2024 Republican National Conventionand helping him reach young male voters. Whether or not you admire White’s unfiltered, profane leadership style, or his unapologetic embrace of the masculinity now synonymous with Trump’s brand, you can’t deny he’s at the peak of his powers.
UFC Freedom 250 could very well bring more fans into his tent, even as critics question whether this is the moment for it. “Thank god they are focused on the priorities of all Americans,” wrote California Governor Gavin Newsom on X after the White House touted the fight last September. Dissenters will shout louder as fight night inches closer, especially if the Iran war drags on and gas prices stay high. Plus, there are the optics: brawling at the home of the President risks coming across less as a tribute to America’s fighting spirit than as a harkening back to the Roman gladiators’ fighting to the death to entertain the emperor. A celebration of sanctioned violence in this milestone moment could, to some, symbolize American crass, not class.
President Trump and Dana White, right, enter the Kaseya Center in Miami for UFC 327.
Trump, however, has no such qualms. Why choose a UFC fight over all the other activities he could have hosted in his backyard to mark America’s birthday? “Well, No. 1, I like it,” he tells TIME, while sitting in a Kaseya Center backroom before the walkout. But also he has immense faith in White. “The job he’s done is second to none. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
In his quarter-century running the UFC, White has staged fights on five continents; several have drawn more than 50,000 attendees. But he’s never faced expectations quite like this. Beyond variables like extreme weather that are out of his control, the logistical and security challenges are acute—especially in the wake of the shooting at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner in April. D.C. will be on high alert, all eyes trained on White, but true to form, the man who despises showing frailty projects only confidence. “I don’t sleep a lot, but it’s not because I’m worried about anything,” says White. “It’s because my life is so f-cking awesome.”
Trump and White have long had a mutually beneficial relationship. White moved to Las Vegas in 1995 because, in his telling, associates of notorious Boston mobster Whitey Bulger were attempting to extort him. He had lived in Sin City as a kid starting after fourth grade, when his single mother moved him and his sister there from New England, but had left to stay with relatives and finish high school in Maine because of his tumultuous relationship with his mom. After quitting his job as a Boston bellhop when he was around 19 and linking up with a local former Golden Gloves champion who taught him the boxing business, he returned.
He was working as a manager for a few fighters when he learned that the UFC, which was founded in 1993 with no weight classes and minimal rules, was on the verge of bankruptcy. He convinced an old high school classmate, Lorenzo Fertitta, and his older brother Frank, who had taken over their father’s casino operation, that the MMA organization could thrive in a world where boxing was in disarray. White persuaded them to buy the UFC for $2 million in early 2001, and they installed him as president.
Heavyweights Josh Hokit and Curtis Blaydes fight at the UFC 327 in Miami on April 11, 2026. Hokit was added to the White House card after his win.
White’s first fight in the role—UFC 30, in February 2001—was held at the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City, N.J. John McCain, the Republican Senator from Arizona, had famously labeled the UFC “human cockfighting,” so it wasn’t fashionable to take a chance on the organization. “That first night, I went home, I said, ‘This is the most unbelievable thing I’ve ever seen,’” says Trump. “The punishment. You know, it’s violent, but when I look at some of these other things, like the bare-knuckle stuff, it’s not that [violent].”
The UFC remained on shaky footing until 2005, when The Ultimate Fighter—a reality show featuring contenders battling for a spot on the circuit—became a hit on Spike TV. “It was our Trojan horse to get on television,” says White, whose show launched the year after The Apprentice. (White says he didn’t watch.) But it was a slow burn. “Dana and I would fly around to all these crazy just mom-and-pop sort of sponsorships,” says Craig Piligian, a former Survivor producer who helped White create the program. “I remember going to Vermont, going everywhere with him, and we just could not get $1.”
As the UFC grew, Trump sent White occasional notes of encouragement. UFC fighters like Chuck Liddell, Conor McGregor, and Ronda Rousey became household names. In 2016, WME-IMG, the talent-management and entertainment conglomerate run by Hollywood superagent Ari Emanuel, led a group that bought the UFC for $4 billion, further scaling White’s business. “All we needed Dana to do—and this is not a simple thing, this is the meat of it—is put on the best fights in the world and really know how to promote them and make the proper matchups,” says Emanuel. “And so that part we knew we had, as long as he remained with us. Then we could do everything else.” White, who by this time had a 9% stake in the UFC, made some $360 million in the deal.
That same year Trump asked White to talk at the Republican National Convention. “He’s a very good speaker, very inspirational-type speaker,” says Trump. “I know guys who are successful, they can’t speak.” White’s circle advised him to turn Trump down. “Everybody said, ‘Don’t do it. Don’t do it,’” says White. “It was about more than ‘You don’t want to get into politics.’ The bigger one was ‘He’s never gonna win.’ And I was like, ‘Well, whether he wins or not, the guy’s been a good friend to me.’”
When COVID hit, White continued to stage events in Las Vegas and Florida during the shutdown. In the summer of 2020, the UFC secured a facility in Abu Dhabi, named Fight Island, to host bouts in a bubble. No one got seriously ill there, and with the UFC practically the only league offering programming, even more fans flocked to the sport. “That’s the bedrock of who he is,” says Mark Shapiro, who was at the time president of Endeavor, the new name for WME-IMG. “You tell him he can’t do something, and the game is on.” Pedro Rodriguez, a 22-year-old fan from Miami, started following the UFC during this period. “Dana was the first one to go against the system,” he says. In February 2021, Endeavor bought a 100% stake in the UFC: it merged the UFC and WWE and took a new company, TKO Group Holdings, public in September 2023.
Inside the UFC headquarters in Las Vegas.
After the UFC announced it had signed a sponsorship deal with Bud Light that fall, critics on the right hammered White. At the time, many conservatives were rebelling against Bud Light for partnering with transgender influencer Dylan Mulvaney on a customized beer can. White appealed to Trump, making the case that Anheuser-Busch wasn’t some woke company, but in fact a staunch supporter of first responders, military families, and farmers. In a February 2024 Truth Social post, Trump parroted many of White’s talking points. “Anheuser-Busch is a Great American Brand that perhaps deserves a Second Chance?” Trump wrote. The blowback subsided. “I think I’d support him for anything,” says Trump now. “Smart guy, very smart guy, and he’s going to do the right thing.”
Going into the 2024 election, White helped broker appearances for Trump on shows popular with young men, connecting him with the Nelk Boys; Will Compton and Taylor Lewan of Bussin’ With the Boys; Adin Ross; Theo Von. “I had this philosophy that if he stayed on Fox News, he couldn’t win the election,” says White. How significant was White to the campaign? “Very important,” Trump says. “He introduced me to people I never heard of, young kids. I mean, I was being interviewed by 20-year-old kids. I’m saying, ‘Where the hell did you meet these people?’ They’re called influencers. But I did a lot. I became friendly with some of them. They’re nice kids, and they do have a big audience, and everything helps.”
Then White caught the big kahuna. For eight years, he had been asking Joe Rogan, who’s been calling UFC bouts since 2002, to have Trump guest on his wildly influential podcast. Finally, Rogan relented: Trump spent three hours with Rogan in October 2024, a conversation that now has more than 62 million views on YouTube. Rogan offered Kamala Harris a slot too. Harris later said she regretted passing.
While on a flight to Mar-a-Lago the day before the election, White says he was “blowing up” Rogan’s phone, trying to get him to publicly endorse Trump. “I was grinding on that thing right down to the last minute,” he says. That night, at a rally in Pittsburgh, Trump announced the news: Rogan had backed him. During his election-night victory celebration, Trump called White to the podium. “Dana! Dana! Dana!” Trump’s supporters yelled.
White has multiple weapons on display in his Las Vegas office
In August 2025, Paramount—which days before had closed its merger with Skydance, the media company founded by David Ellison—bought the UFC’s media rights for $7.7 billion over seven years. The deal effectively doubled the average annual price ESPN had been paying for UFC rights and eliminated the pay-per-view model from UFC fights. It also gave UFC fights entrée onto CBS, a Paramount subsidiary.
White doesn’t believe Ellison’s friendly relationship with Trump factored into the deal. According to analyst Peter Supino, who covers TKO for Wolfe Research, Paramount’s offer beat Wall Street expectations by some 20%. UFC revenues reached $401 million during the first quarter of 2026—a 12% increase over the same period last year. Over the past 30-plus months, TKO shares are up more than 85%.
The decor in White’s spacious office at UFC headquarters in Las Vegas is, well, striking. There’s an X-rated Japanese photograph, and samurai swords from the 1600s rest on a coffee table. There’s an encased AK-47 and a grenade in another area; in the magazine of the assault rifle, which is wrapped in $1 bills, are items humans kill for, such as cocaine, diamonds, and gold. Across the room are two pistols. One barrel is cloaked in a red bible cover, the other in a black one. “Those two books have killed more people than any handgun ever made,” says White. “I am very antireligion.”
Cigars, guitars, sports memorabilia: they’re all there. “I am unapologetically masculine,” White says. Men, in White’s mind, never split the bill when out to dinner with a woman. Men don’t shirk family responsibilities. And they never, ever, vocalize their mental-health struggles. “Talking about it publicly, I just feel like it opens the door to make young men think that it’s OK to just f-cking go, ‘Oh, I’m having mental [health issues],’” White says in a mock whiny voice. “Handle it behind closed doors. Don’t show that weakness to anybody.”
And don’t call any of this talk toxic. “What is toxic masculinity?” says White. “Who has it? Who’s too masculine?” I suggest that when this attitude begets unjustified violence, you can call it toxic, no? “Then you’re a douchebag,” says White. “There’s a difference between being a douchebag and being masculine.”
(On New Year’s Eve 2022, White and his wife Anne were caught on video slapping each other during an altercation. Both expressed contrition about the incident. “It’s just one of those things where you have to look at yourself and blame nobody but you,” says White. “How the f-ck did that happen? And how do we make sure that never happens again?”)
If White’s worldview has spread during Trump’s second term—in March 2025, the New York Times wrote that White “has helped define a new, masculinist American mainstream”—and if the White House fight signals its crescendo, that’s fine by him. “There’s nothing I hate worse than men that don’t act like men,” says White. “So if that puts me in the manosphere, then I guess I’m in.”
Last year, even some conservative pundits felt White waded too deep into this space. White warmly greeted the controversial Tate brothers, Andrew and Tristan, at an event in Las Vegas for Power Slap—another combat-sports offering, founded by White in 2022, involving one person striking their defenseless opponent with all their might. The Tates, online influencers who are facing human-trafficking charges in Romania and rape and human-trafficking charges in the U.K., are known for promoting misogynistic views. (They’ve denied all allegations against them.) White swears he disagrees with their most noxious statements. But he doesn’t regret the exchange. “I have no beef with those guys,” says White. “They showed up to a fight. I said hi. It’s not like I have any type of relationship [with them].” The brothers also attended UFC 327, as well as UFC 328 in Newark, N.J., in May, though White says he did not interact with them at either event.
White says staging a fight at the White House is patriotic, not political
White also has ties to the MAHA (Make America Healthy Again) movement, whose collection of “biohacking bros” promoting alternative remedies, antiaging methods, and vaccine skepticism often intersects with the manosphere. “Love him,” White says of Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. “I feel he’s on the right side of things.” White turned his back on conventional medicine coming out of the COVID pandemic, and in 2022 he began working with Gary Brecka, a popular wellness influencer. Brecka, who is not a doctor, put White on a regimen of supplements, cold plunges, IV drips, and red-light therapy that has left him feeling leaner, more energized, and no longer suffering from sleep apnea. “This is what changed my life,” says White. “Go strap that CPAP machine on your fat face and good luck. I wish you all the best.”
If his language sounds uncouth, it has hardly hindered his ascent. In January 2025 he was elected to Meta’s board, where he is a strong advocate for free speech. That same month Meta founder, CEO, and chairman Mark Zuckerberg praised “masculine energy” on Rogan’s podcast, saying that “having a culture that, like, celebrates the aggression a bit more has its own merits that are really positive.” White admires Zuckerberg’s smarts, competitive instincts, and ability to run a full day of meetings on time. He puts Zuckerberg in the same category of alpha role models as Trump, Carl Icahn, and Michael Jordan. “What I didn’t realize about Mark until I got on the board,” White says, “is Zuckerberg might be one of the biggest killers in the history of killers.” (Meta did not comment for this story.)
At the Kaseya Center the evening before UFC 327, White expressed concern that his team’s plan to pin down the President the next day to show him logistical plans for the White House event would be a fool’s errand. “He doesn’t have the patience or the attention span to do this here,” says White. “I can’t see this happening.” But on fight night, the President does listen to White and two UFC officials in the backroom, as they show him slides on a laptop. Though a pair of TVs, one airing Fox News, the other one the evening’s preliminary bouts—featuring American welterweight Kevin Holland—do occasionally distract him. “Now if I wanted to heavy train, because I’m a very good athlete, could I beat the sh-t out of him?” Trump asks White, to laughter in the room. “Or would you stop me from trying?”
“I would stop you, sir,” White replies.
The UFC group details the seating arrangements for Trump’s Marine Band, the media, and the military personnel. At least 1,200 of the approximately 4,300 seats will go to active military members. The White House, TKO, and the UFC will divvy up the rest: White has invited Adam Sandler, Guy Ritchie, Tom Brady, Jared Leto, Jason Statham, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, and Mario Lopez.
“How many are you going to have at the Ellipse?” the President asks. The park across from the White House is hosting a viewing party for the fights and a fan fest, highlighted by a performance by the Zac Brown Band, the night before. White tells Trump the Ellipse can hold up to 85,000 people. Tickets to all the events are free but require registration; guests who attend the South Lawn fight will also need to show ID.
“Voter ID,” Trump quips. “Can you believe, no voter ID? Yet these guys, these dopey guys, if you want to get in to see Democrats, you need 15 forms of ID. It’s just, they want to cheat.”
Donald Trump at the Kaseya Center in Miami for UFC 327.
White swore off politics after the 2024 presidential campaign. But, I ask him, isn’t bringing your business to the White House an inherently political act? “You can make anything political if you want to,” says White. “I love this country like anybody on the left loves this country. I love this country like anybody on the right loves this country. This is basically me spending a sh-tload of money to celebrate the 250th birthday of America, with America and the rest of the world.”
Trump planted the seeds for UFC 250, leaning over to White at the 2024 Madison Square Garden fight 11 days after his re-election and suggesting a White House card. In February 2025, calls between the Administration and the UFC officially commenced. UFC staffers have made more than a dozen planning visits to D.C. in the past three months; the organization is installing temporary seats on the South Lawn and will have to foot the bill for damaged grass. The UFC will bring in an 87-ft. canopy to light the Octagon, more than double the height of a typical UFC grid. White insisted on the extra room to ensure that nothing obstructs the White House TV shot.
White says the UFC will lose approximately $30 million on the event. “This is the greatest earned marketing tool of all time,” says Shapiro, now president and COO of TKO. “It’s a once-in-a-generation moment. The kind of attention, awareness, and sampling we’re going to get from audiences around the world, on that day alone, will be more than we could get in an entire year.”
It’s still a gamble. While the canopy should protect the fighters and many spectators from rain, lightning within eight miles of the South Lawn requires a 30-minute evacuation. Persistent strikes could wipe out the event. The UFC will rely on a pair of weather services, one run by the military, for forecasts beginning 10 days before the fight. Starting a week in advance, they’ll receive hourly updates.
Strange as it may sound, White talks about insects several times in our conversations. The UFC has had only one outdoor fight in its history, in Abu Dhabi in 2010, and it was humid and apparently buggy. “Imagine fighting and you got bugs flying in your mouth or in your nose,” says White. But at least one fighter seems unfazed. “There could be a snake in the middle of that cage. I won’t even see it,” says Gaethje. “Whatever bug bites me will bite him.”
The fight will feature other quirks, including, surprisingly enough, the national anthem. Out of respect to the international composition of the UFC’s fighters and its host countries—bouts have already been held in England, Australia, and Mexico this year, and cards in Macao, Azerbaijan, and Serbia are on the 2026 schedule—White doesn’t play “The Star-Spangled Banner,” or any country’s anthem, at UFC bouts. An exception will be made at the White House.
Dana White goes through plans for UFC Freedom 250 at UFC headquarters
Fighters will warm up in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building and shower back at their hotels. The main-event competitors are set to walk out from the Oval Office. And while most fans will not enjoy access to West Wing restrooms, White is promising high-class temporary facilities for the 4,000-plus spectators. “We’re bringing in real bathrooms,” he says.
When the White House fight lineup was released in March, some UFC fans complained that the card lacked real star power. Where was McGregor? (He’s wasn’t ready for the D.C. card and will fight at UFC 329 on July 11.) What about Jon “Bones” Jones? “I have to build a card of people that I’m confident in and I believe will show up to the fight,” says White. “And Jon Jones is the least dependable guy that you could ever know.” (Jones has pulled out of several scheduled bouts over the years; he has said he was “lowballed” in White House fight negotiations.) Analysts cite a dearth of superstar fighters as an ongoing business concern. White stands by the lineup, arguing the emerging athletes at the White House could break out. He did make one change at Trump’s suggestion, however. In Miami, Trump wondered why American heavyweight Derrick Lewis, a fan favorite, wasn’t on the card. White immediately added Lewis and matched him with fellow American Josh Hokit. While Hokit’s heel act can wear thin, his thrilling victory at UFC 327 won the respect of hardcore fans.
No women are fighting at the White House. White says he wanted to set a title bout between Zhang Weili of China and Mackenzie Dern, the American-Brazilian fighter. A Chinese athlete would increase the international audience of the card, which also includes fighters from Brazil, France, and Canada. But according to White, Zhang is taking time off from fighting. “We did try to make a women’s fight,” says White. “We couldn’t get it done.” (A representative for Zhang did not respond to requests for comment.)
Even staunch UFC supporters have wondered if the White House hype is worth it. Rogan, who will be in D.C. calling the fight, referred to it as a “gimmick” on his podcast. “At first I thought, ‘That’s not nice,’” says Trump. “And then I realized, it is a gimmick. Life is a gimmick, if you think about it, right? But it’s a good gimmick. It’s something that will never happen again. Nobody will ever have the privilege of doing something like this in front of the White House. It’s going to be very unique. It’s going to be amazing. I think it’s great for America, frankly.”
More than four hours later, past 12:30 a.m., Trump has left the premises, and White has concluded his post-card press conference. As White works his way through the bowels of the arena, UFC Freedom 250, still more than two months away, is front of mind. “Now we go in and start building all the bells and whistles,” he says. “We’ve got to get it all dialed in, and then we have to execute that night. We’re putting on the most historic sporting event in history, and now we have to deliver. We will absolutely, positively deliver.” —With reporting by Simmone Shah
