La Hiedra is part of a lucha dynasty, trained by her rudo father and surrounded by uncles with ring names that sound like gang bosses in a Quentin Tarantino script. But don’t let the family legacy fool you—this vine has thorns.
Roots Drenched in Blood… Literally
It helps when your wrestling name translates to “The Ivy,” especially when your actual lineage reads like the Game of Thrones of Mexican wrestling. Alexandra Bazadoni, better known as La Hiedra, isn’t just another masked menace on the AAA circuit. She’s the daughter of Sangre Chicana—that’s “Chicano Blood” for those who didn’t pay attention in Spanish class—and niece to a small army of luchadores whose family barbecues probably involve suplexes over grilled chorizo.
She grew up in Nuevo Laredo, a place where being tough wasn’t optional and neither was wearing a mask. Her dad spent the ’80s being one of the most notorious rudos in lucha libre, breaking rules, bones, and probably a few mirrors with his rugged mug. La Hiedra, naturally, went the other way—a técnico, the babyface, the one who fights fair… allegedly.
But don’t let the white hat fool you. She didn’t get to the top by hugging her enemies.
Debut by Fire, Defeat by Lady Puma
La Hiedra hit the ropes in 2010, trained by daddy dearest and a shortlist of wrestling mercenaries like Villano IV and Laredo Kid. She debuted on the independent circuit, where she was swiftly introduced to the fine art of losing—falling to names like Lady Puma and Princess Maya in what probably felt more like hazing rituals than matches.
Her early years were the lucha equivalent of parking cars in the valet lot before you’re allowed in the casino. But she kept grinding, building momentum with every wrist lock and moonsault.
On November 6, 2011, she popped up in Promociones Cantu, quietly slipping into the AAA system, which would later become her launching pad to notoriety, WWE, and several moments of near-brilliance.
AAA: Acrobatics, Alliances, and Awkward Angles
When La Hiedra officially signed with AAA in 2015, she was tossed into a human piñata of multi-person tag matches, often surrounded by more latex and sequins than a Vegas drag brunch. Her debut featured a team-up with Taya Valkyrie and La Parka Negra—an ensemble cast worthy of a Netflix action series called “Luchadores With Daddy Issues.”
Her career in AAA was a chaotic mix of almosts and what-ifs. She was always in the mix, rarely on top. At Héroes Inmortales IX, she went after the Reina de Reinas Championship, only to lose to Taya Valkyrie—who seemed to hold the title with the same grip Gollum had on the One Ring.
But La Hiedra didn’t cry about it. She kept showing up. Over and over. Like a side quest in a video game that eventually unlocks a hidden weapon.
Mixed Tag Madness and Vine Power
Her biggest mainstream pop came in AAA’s Mixed Tag Team scene, where she meshed surprisingly well with a rotating cast of partners. From Angelikal to Mr. Iguana (yes, that’s a real name), La Hiedra proved herself to be not just agile, but adaptable—an ivy creeping up any available wall, regardless of who was standing there.
At Triplemanía XXVI, she retained the AAA World Mixed Tag Team Championship in a chaotic blender of luchadors with names that sound like the result of a Mad Libs exercise—El Hijo del Vikingo, Niño Hamburguesa, Vanilla. Imagine a tag team division run by Willy Wonka and choreographed by Cirque du Soleil, and you’re halfway there.
It was beautiful. It was absurd. It was lucha.
Masked Loyalty Meets Corporate Machine
And then came 2025.
On May 5th, as the world was just recovering from yet another high-flying, logic-defying AAA card, WWE announced they were acquiring AAA—a move that shocked wrestling fans and gave Vince McMahon’s ghost (because surely he’s now just a hologram) something to smile about.
Among the crossover stars snapped up like shiny Pokémon? La Hiedra.
Suddenly, the girl who grew up watching her dad bleed on canvas for cheap heat was sitting in Stamford conference rooms nodding along to branding meetings and asking if her mask would survive a RAW repackage. (Spoiler: it probably won’t.)
Still, she got the deal. And in a post-multiverse WWE where Rey Mysterio is still somehow alive and wrestling his own lineage, anything’s possible.
Ivy’s Got Bite
La Hiedra might have a green mask and a técnico label, but underneath the spandex is a survivor. The wrestling business is brutal to women—especially in Mexico, where getting regular ring time requires politics, patience, and sometimes divine intervention.
She’s fought for airtime, clawed through AAA’s chaotic booking, and even when outshined by heavier-pushed names like Lady Shani or Taya, she never lost her cool—or her mask.
In a business where your face is everything, La Hiedra has stayed anonymous, iconic, and relevant. That’s a rare trifecta. Especially in a company where your tag partner might be a guy named Mr. Iguana and your next feud could be with a possessed marionette.
Blood in the Water
Her real name may be Alexandra Bazadoni, but La Hiedra is the name etched into lucha fans’ minds. She’s not just Sangre Chicana’s daughter anymore. She’s a champ, a show-stealer, and possibly one of the last AAA originals to transition into WWE before the machine sandblasts her identity.
The question now: can ivy grow inside a corporation?
Time will tell. But odds are, she’ll keep climbing. Clutching gold. And wrapping herself around any opportunity that grows near the ropes.
Just don’t try to cut her down.
She bites.
