Samantha Hall never asked for the limelight. She built her empire in backroom armories and school gyms that smelled like sweat, mold, and lost dreams. But somewhere between brushstrokes and body slams, she became something more—a masterpiece in motion. You might know her as Bambi Hall, the bright light of the Canadian indie wrestling scene. But beneath the glitter and grit is a second-generation bruiser with a painter’s touch and a neckbreaker’s soul.
Born July 14, 1992, in British Columbia, Bambi was wrestling before she could spell it. Her mother, the ferocious Raven Lake, carved out a place in the business when it still treated women like accessories. So, Bambi didn’t walk into the sport—she inherited it like a blood oath. The canvas wasn’t just something she painted on—it was something she slammed bodies into. And God help you if you thought that neckbreaker of hers was just for show. That swinging guillotine’s ended more comebacks than tequila and regret.
She first made noise in All-Star Wrestling, that oddball BC institution where indie dreams go to live or die. April 11, 2014—remember the date—she walked in a hopeful and walked out the first-ever ASW Women’s Champion, leaving Riea Von Slasher and KC Spinelli in a heap of broken promises. That wasn’t just a win. That was a damn proclamation: the kid was here to take the crown and spit shine it with sweat.
From there, the road was equal parts blood, bruises, and big breaks. In 2015, Hall stepped into the first women’s ladder match against Riea Von Slasher, proving that glass ceilings could—and should—shatter with a steel chair. She didn’t just climb that ladder. She tore the damn thing apart rung by rung and built her own platform.
Pro Wrestling Illustrated took notice. In 2012, they dubbed her Rookie of the Year third runner-up—the first time a Canadian indie woman clawed her way that high on the list. The next year, she cracked the Top 50 at #46, not just for her looks, not just for her lineage, but because she wrestled like she painted—bold, dangerous, and full of color.
Some nights she was adored. Other nights, booed into the backroom. Either way, she was seen. Voted Most Popular Wrestler in both 2016 and 2017 and Female Wrestler of the Year in 2016, Hall proved she wasn’t riding coattails—she was stitching her own damn jacket. When she teamed with her sister Liiza Hall—because yes, the Hall family bleeds headlocks and hip tosses—the duo captured tag gold with 3-2-1 Battle!, bringing chaos and charisma to the Pacific Northwest.
But here’s the rub—she wasn’t just a wrestler. Bambi was, and still is, an artist. A real one. She studied at the Emily Carr Art Institute, not some weekend Etsy crash course. Oil. Acrylic. Canvas. She specialized in finding stillness in movement, even while her own life looked like a bar fight caught on a merry-go-round. Her drawings spoke in whispers. Her wrestling screamed in headshots and heel turns. She made it all feel like theatre, just a little more bloody.
Her favorite match? A clash with Sarah Stock for the Beauty Slammers Women’s Wrestling Championship. Stock—the globetrotting maestro of Mexican lucha and Canadian backbone—pushed her to the limit, to the point where even Bambi felt the match mattered beyond the payday. In a business that devours feelings, that one stayed with her like a scar she didn’t want to cover up.
Outside the ring, she’s not some brooding bruiser hiding from the spotlight. She’s an open sketchbook. She loves volleyball, worships at the altar of Maroon 5 (we all have flaws), and will talk your ear off about acrylic paint if you let her. There’s something disarming about a woman who’ll dropkick you through a folding table and then tell you about brush techniques afterward.
But don’t mistake the softness for weakness. Bambi Hall is tough in a way that doesn’t come with a T-shirt slogan. She’s taken the long road, the one paved with cheap motels, bruised sternums, and half-eaten protein bars backstage. She’s the kind of woman who can walk into a room and make it hers without saying a word—because everything she’s been through is already written across her shoulders and her shins.
She’s not waiting for a phone call from Stamford. She’s not praying for one last shot on AEW Dark. Bambi Hall is already a success story—just not the kind that makes the highlight reels. She’s the kind of champion who survives the business, paints something beautiful from it, and never lets it change who she is at her core.
Second generation? Sure. But Bambi Hall’s carving her name in places even Raven Lake didn’t tread. Not just in the ring, but on canvas, in memory, in heart.
And you can’t teach that. You have to live it.