Before she was lighting up AEW Dynamite in sequins, street fights, and suplexes, Tay Melo was just a girl from the favelas of Rio de Janeiro—dodging bullets and building black belts like a one-woman Brazilian SWAT team. She didn’t just come from the streets; she survived them. And when you survive Rio’s crime-riddled alleys with a judo gi and a chip on your shoulder, learning a figure-four leglock is basically recess.
By age 17, Melo was the martial arts version of a teenage prodigy with a rage problem. Regional champion? Yup. Four-time Brazilian silver medalist? That too. Oh, and she tried out for the 2016 Olympics, because apparently there weren’t enough gold medals in her sock drawer. Somewhere in the middle of tossing opponents like rag dolls, she tried law school. But books and briefs couldn’t keep her attention. She wanted combat—and not the kind with citations.
Enter WWE, stage left.
Signed in 2016, Tay Melo—then known as Taynara Conti—reported to the Performance Center like a freight train with dimples. She debuted at WrestleMania Axxess in 2017, where she promptly took a loss to Sarah Bridges. Cornette would’ve called it “a baptism by squash,” but it didn’t matter. She had “it”—and “it” wasn’t just Brazilian attitude and long legs; it was that mix of real athletic pedigree and just enough wild card energy to make people wonder, what happens when she figures it all out?
Spoiler: WWE never gave her the chance.
Conti was booked like someone’s weird side project—showing up for The Undisputed Era, then thrown to Nikki Cross like bait in a cage. She made it to two Mae Young Classics, lost both, but managed to be the first Brazilian woman to ever wrestle at WrestleMania. Too bad Vince probably thought Rio de Janeiro was a new steakhouse in Tampa.
By 2020, the pandemic hit, WWE made budget cuts, and Conti got her walking papers. She’d already been miserable, publicly revealing later that she asked for her release months earlier. WWE said no—because heaven forbid she show up in AEW and do something crazy like get over.
Which, of course, is exactly what she did.
By August 2020, Tay Conti landed in AEW and was paired with Anna Jay in the Deadly Draw tournament. They formed TayJay—a name that sounds like a YouTube prank channel but quickly turned into one of the most entertaining women’s tag duos in the business. Forget matching gear and synchronized taunts—these two were legitimately fun, dangerous, and unpredictable. Heenan would’ve said, “It’s like watching Cagney & Lacey if Cagney knew judo and Lacey carried a steel chair.”
She tangled with Serena Deeb for the NWA Women’s Title. Lost. Then challenged Hikaru Shida for the AEW Women’s Championship. Lost again. But each match was a little better, a little stiffer, a little more “holy hell, she’s legit.”
Then came The Street Fight on Rampage in December 2021. TayJay vs. The Bunny and Penelope Ford. Four women. Thumbtacks. Blood. Ladders. Carnage. Melo hit a piledriver on Ford through a table like she was trying to reset her spine. Suddenly, Tay wasn’t just pretty or promising—she was violent. She was the woman your chiropractor warns you about.
And then came Sammy.
By early 2022, Melo was publicly in a relationship with Sammy Guevara—a man who cuts promos like he’s late for his own intervention. Their relationship was front and center in AEW programming, with more tongue action on TV than a Bachelor finale. They joined the Jericho Appreciation Society, turned heel, and morphed into pro wrestling’s most smug prom couple.
They won the AAA Mixed Tag Titles at Triplemanía XXX. Fun fact: Sammy skipped most of the match and let La Parka Negra wrestle in his place. Because of course he did. Melo did the heavy lifting, per usual, because in that relationship she’s the one with actual combat credentials and a functioning brainstem.
The couple feuded with Ruby Soho and Ortiz. Things escalated into more blood, more chaos, and finally, a street fight on Rampage that looked more like a barroom brawl sponsored by Red Bull and regret. Melo could sell a DDT and bust open your eyebrow in the same breath. Somewhere backstage, Tony Khan probably muttered, “Yeah, that’s ratings.”
Then, in January 2023, Tay disappeared. Why? Because she was about to become Mom Tay.
She gave birth to daughter Luna Guevara in November 2023. While Sammy was out doing flippy dives and yelling at fans, Melo was home doing the hardest job in the world—keeping a newborn alive. You want hardcore? Forget chairs and barbed wire—try changing diapers at 3 a.m. while recovering from childbirth. Cornette would’ve said, “She’s tougher than 90% of that AEW locker room and she hasn’t thrown a punch in a year.”
Then in January 2025, Melo made her quiet return—not in AEW, but in Stardom. Of course she did. Because if you’re a woman looking to prove you’re elite, you go to Japan, get stiffed by Thekla and Athena, and prove your worth in front of the world’s most discerning fans. She didn’t win, but winning wasn’t the point. Showing up was.
Finally, on June 4, 2025, Tay Melo returned to AEW at Fyter Fest and rescued Anna Jay from a beatdown. The crowd popped. The heels trembled. TayJay was back—and this time, they were the babyfaces. The following week, they defeated Megan Bayne and Penelope Ford, and just like that, Melo was back in form. Still beautiful. Still deadly. Still capable of tossing you on your head with alarming precision.
At All In on July 12, she entered the Casino Gauntlet Match. She didn’t win—Athena took that one—but Tay Melo had already done what few in this business manage: she returned after motherhood better than before. Stronger. Sharper. More experienced. And, somehow, scarier.
She’s not a diva. She’s not a gimmick. She’s not Sammy’s sidekick.
She’s a judoka, a striker, a mother, and a star.
If AEW’s smart, they’ll strap a rocket to her and let her show the world what WWE never let her become.
Because Tay Melo didn’t just climb out of the favelas. She flipped them, suplexed fate, and then dropkicked the door open for every woman who’s ever had to fight twice as hard to get half as far.
And if you don’t believe me?
Ask the mat. It remembers.