In a world where most wrestlers stretch the truth and their heights like Instagram filters, Isis the Amazon didn’t need to lie. She walked into every room as the biggest presence, whether she wanted to or not. At 6-foot-8 and change, Lindsay Kay Hayward—known in the ring as Isis the Amazon and briefly, Aloisia—wasn’t built for blending in. She was built to tower, to intimidate, to loom like a goddamn statue no one could ignore. And yet, somehow, the industry still managed to look right past her.
Born in the sun-bleached suburb of Walnut Creek, California, Lindsay Hayward was destined for spectacle whether she sought it or not. In high school, she was a basketball powerhouse, a sectional champion, a one-woman stampede under the backboard. But there’s no glamour in rebounds, and no legacy in free throws. So when pro wrestling came calling, she answered—maybe because it was one of the few professions on Earth where being a literal giant didn’t feel like a curse.
Her path started in the grime and haze of the indie circuit. Not a smooth climb—more like a sideways stumble through curtainless locker rooms and folding chairs where the blood on the mat was as real as the tears backstage. She showed up in 2008 in ICWMiami, discovered like some mythic creature at a convention of Exxxotica and exposed flesh. No red carpet. Just an introduction to trainer “Soulman” Alex G and a one-way ticket into the circus.
She valeted Dade County Collision and threw down with Tracy Taylor for the PGWA title. The names were small. The crowds were smaller. But you couldn’t miss her. She was a skyscraper in a parking lot. Her height wasn’t just billed—it was believed. There was no kayfabe in her frame.
She bounced between Coastal Championship Wrestling, Rampage Pro, and the madcap insanity of Juggalo Championship Wrestling. Yeah, she fought for Insane Clown Posse’s promotion. Because in wrestling, nothing is too strange if you’re tall enough to pull it off.
But the real twist in her story—the moment when the stars should’ve aligned—came in 2010, when WWE signed her for NXT season three. They dubbed her “Aloisia,” a name that sounded like a perfume brand mixed with an afterthought. She was to be the tallest Diva in WWE history. They paired her with Vickie Guerrero. They had her take seminars with Jimmy “Superfly” Snuka. They filmed the vignettes, wrote the storylines, and then—poof.
Gone.
All it took was someone in Stamford finding a few risqué photos online. The same industry that once featured lingerie pillow fights suddenly got precious about erotic imagery. And just like that, she was released. Replaced by Kaitlyn. Another tall tale in a business that eats its women alive and then acts shocked when they bleed glitter.
She floated through the remnants of the scene for another year. Absolute Intense Wrestling. TNA. NWA Signature Pro. A few matches. A few bumps. Then in 2011, she hung up the boots. No retirement tour. No farewell speech. Just silence—the kind that wraps around you when the call stops coming.
But Lindsay Hayward never stayed quiet.
In 2013, she turned to Hollywood—not the one with ring ropes, but the one with casting couches and scripts that usually didn’t know what to do with a 7-foot woman who could lift a man with one hand and break hearts with the other.
She showed up in R100 as a towering CEO. Played Katja in The Internship Games. Guest starred on Grey’s Anatomy as Jade Bell. Showed up in Rumors, You Have a Nice Flight, and a few other roles you probably blinked and missed. Every part was a variation on the same theme: Look at her. Marvel at her. Be confused by her presence. Hollywood could never quite figure her out. Too big for the damsel role, too glamorous for the monster.
So she played herself.
TLC’s My Giant Life cast her as a reality TV oddity—“the tallest actress in a leading role,” Guinness said—but what they really meant was the one they didn’t know how to market. On the show, she shopped for clothes that didn’t fit, sat on airplanes that didn’t accommodate, and tried to find a life partner in a world that flinches when women take up space.
Season two teased a return to the ring. She spoke of WrestleMania. Of finishing what was stolen from her back in 2010. Of getting one shot to walk that aisle under the big lights and say, I was here. I mattered.
But the comeback never came. She trained with Brian Kendrick, maybe took a few bumps, but the dream dissolved somewhere in the ether—between motherhood, the daily grind, and an industry that still doesn’t know what to do with women who don’t fit the mold.
In 2017, she became a mother. Her son Liam was born, and just like that, the story shifted. No longer a tale of wasted potential. Now it’s a saga of survival.
Because if wrestling is about pain, acting about rejection, and reality TV about exploitation, then Lindsay Hayward has walked through hell with high heels and a bruised sense of humor. And she’s still standing. A little shorter than before—officially 6-foot-8¼ after a slipped disc—but still the tallest presence in every room.
Isis the Amazon was never booked for the big moment.
Aloisia never made it to a WrestleMania.
But Lindsay Hayward? She outlived the gimmicks. She buried the broken promises. And somewhere in California, she’s raising a son who will know his mother was a titan who never shrank herself for anyone.
And that? That’s bigger than any belt.
