Amelia Herr doesn’t blink. She doesn’t hesitate. She just steps forward—shoulders squared, boots laced, eyes burning like someone who never got the memo that she was supposed to wait her turn. Whether she’s called Sloane Jacobs or Notorious Mimi, she moves like a woman possessed—part outlaw, part hopeful, part hurricane.
Wrestling didn’t make her. It called her.
Born in West Chester, Pennsylvania, and forged in the hard-line structure of taekwondo and criminal justice coursework, Herr is one of those rare talents who went from high school graduate to center ring faster than most people decide what major to pick. She wasn’t bred in legacy or nepotism. She was trained at the Monster Factory in Paulsboro, New Jersey—the East Coast crucible of broken dreams and true believers. The same place that taught Bam Bam Bigelow how to fly and Matt Riddle how to throw hands.
She walked into that building as a teenager. Walked out as Notorious Mimi—a name that sounds like bubblegum, but hits like a backhand across the teeth.
The indie circuit got the first taste. Starting in 2019, she barnstormed the Northeast, working VFW halls and high school gyms, dragging her gear bag through the same cracked pavement that built legends. She wasn’t flashy, but she was fearless. Her strikes were tight. Her bump card filled early. And when All Elite Wrestling opened the door in 2021, she didn’t flinch.
AEW Dark: Elevation. October 11, 2021. Mimi vs. Penelope Ford. She lost.
December 13. Mimi vs. Emi Sakura. Lost again.
But here’s the thing—they kept calling. Because sometimes, the loss doesn’t matter. Sometimes, it’s how you walk away after. She took her beatings, smiled through the bruises, and started building something that would outlast the moment.
Then came the tryout. December 2021. WWE Performance Center. Big lights. Bigger stakes. And in March 2022, she got the contract—the golden ticket every indie kid dreams about. NXT called her “Sloane Jacobs,” and in a world of plastic smiles and repackaged gimmicks, she felt different. Raw. Green. Real.
Her debut was against Nikkita Lyons, a lioness in a division built on branding. Sloane got steamrolled. Then Roxanne Perez handed her another loss on NXT Level Up. But the girl didn’t back down. She got her first televised win on May 3, 2022—pinning Thea Hail and proving she wasn’t just a warm body for highlight reels.
She entered a battle royal on July 19, swinging wild in a sea of twenty women, trying to carve out space in a division that didn’t have time for kindness. Zoey Stark won that night. Sloane didn’t.
By November, WWE cut her loose. A business decision, they called it. Budget. Restructuring. Whatever excuse helps the board sleep at night while wrestlers pack up dreams into trunks that still smell like icy hot and betrayal.
She could’ve folded. Lots do.
Instead, she recalibrated.
Back on the indie scene, Amelia Herr dusted off her old name: Notorious Mimi. The swagger returned. So did the matches. Ring of Honor brought her in—April 6, 2023—fed her to Willow Nightingale. Loss again. Then Miranda Alize. Another L.
But Mimi kept showing up. That’s what separates the lifers from the tourists.
By October, she debuted for Major League Wrestling. Lost to Tiara James. But in this business, your worth isn’t built on record sheets. It’s forged in persistence. She won titles everywhere else—Invictus Pro Wrestling, Remarkable Wrestling, Kickstart My Heart, Titan Championship Wrestling. She became the inaugural champion in more places than most people ever get booked. She wasn’t just grinding. She was etching her initials into the walls of a business that tries to forget you the second you leave.
She’s held the MFPW Girls Championship twice. Supersonic title once. Tag gold with Travis Jacobs. She’s the kind of wrestler who wins on Friday night in Jersey, then works Saturday in Queens, then drives home wondering if it’s all worth it—until the bell rings again.
In 2023, Apple TV launched Monster Factory, a documentary that peeled back the curtain and let the world see where she came from. You saw the grit. The training. The late nights and early bumps. And there she was—young, determined, soaking up every second like it might be her last.
She’s only 22.
Let that sink in.
While most of her peers are still figuring out how to leave the house without GPS, Amelia Herr has wrestled on national television, been fired by the biggest company in the world, rebuilt her brand, and won half a dozen titles across multiple promotions.
That’s not just resilience. That’s hunger. That’s fight. That’s the kind of madness you need to survive this business.
They’ll call her “Notorious Mimi” in bingo halls and VOD streams. They’ll call her “Sloane Jacobs” in dusty WWE archives. But the truth is, she’s just Amelia—built for this. Designed not to fit in, but to punch through.
And whether she ends up back under WWE lights, or rules the indies with gold around her waist and calluses on her soul, one thing’s certain:
Amelia Herr isn’t done.
Not by a long shot.
Because the real ones—the lifers—they never hear the final bell. They just keep swinging.
