In the world of professional wrestling, where flash often outshines fundamentals, Marti Belle has made a career out of doing the opposite—crafting a path as winding and layered as a New York City back alley. She didn’t get here in a rocket ship. She walked, stumbled, bled, and kept on coming.
Born Martibel Payano on August 7, 1988, in the Dominican Republic, Belle is as Bronx as an elevated train at 2 a.m. Raised on hustle, she entered the world of wrestling the hard way, debuting not with pyros and titantrons but as a valet in World of Unpredictable Wrestling back in 2008. One year later, she stepped between the ropes for the first time. It wasn’t pretty—a triple count-out against Tina San Antonio and Sweet Pea. But like all the best stories, it started with chaos.
Her early rise came in Women Superstars Uncensored (WSU), a promotion that favored grit over glitz. Teaming with Tina San Antonio, they formed The Belle Saints, a duo that punched harder than they posed. They captured the WSU Tag Team Championships and later, Belle carved out her own legacy as WSU Spirit Champion—a reign that lasted 602 days, the longest in the belt’s history. She didn’t hold the title; she welded it to her name.
From there, she hit the indie circuit with a vengeance—Shine, Shimmer, Evolve, Ring of Honor. These were the blue-collar clubs of wrestling, where every bump feels a little harder and every win means a little more. She piled up miles like frequent flyer points and collected bruises like trophies. This was a woman not chasing fame, but survival.
In 2015, Belle hit the national stage with Total Nonstop Action Wrestling (TNA). As one-third of “The Dollhouse” alongside Jade and Taryn Terrell, she portrayed a twisted, porcelain nightmare of a character. The group may have had sugar in their name, but they were salt in the wound of anyone who crossed them. Belle, renamed Marti Bell, thrived in the chaos, mixing theatrics with thump.
After The Dollhouse disbanded, Marti pivoted into singles action, flirting with the TNA Knockouts Championship and leaving a trail of ambitious matches in her wake. Her run may have lacked gold, but it was heavy with purpose. When her TNA contract expired in 2017, she exited the way she entered: no drama, no fireworks, just the quiet dignity of someone who knew her worth.
That same year, she stepped onto the global stage in WWE’s Mae Young Classic. It was a one-and-done—eliminated by Rachel Evers—but even in defeat, she looked every bit the veteran. Her performance was a subtle reminder: Marti Belle doesn’t need the spotlight to shine.
Her most decorated run came with the National Wrestling Alliance (NWA). She turned heel, teamed up with Thunder Rosa, and in 2021, found herself aligned with Allysin Kay as The Hex. Together, they stormed NWA EmPowerrr and emerged as the resurrected NWA World Women’s Tag Team Champions. The duo didn’t just win—they revived a division. It was a testament to Marti’s long-game mastery: when you’re this resilient, the world eventually catches up.
She made returns to Impact Wrestling and Ring of Honor in 2023 and 2024, but by then, her role had shifted. She was no longer the hopeful upstart or the unhinged sidekick. She was a veteran, a compass for the locker room, a woman who’d seen every angle of this crooked business and was still standing.
Her accolades include gold across the globe: from WSU to Shine to EVE, from the APWA to NYWC. She topped out at No. 32 on the PWI Female 50 in 2016 and cracked the PWI Tag Team 100 alongside Kay in 2022. She’s the kind of performer whose work isn’t always front-page news, but ask the ones who know—they’ll tell you she’s the foundation most champions stand on.
In an industry that fetishizes overnight sensations, Marti Belle is a reminder that legacy isn’t built in a weekend. It’s built in empty gyms and under flickering lights. It’s forged in losses and made holy in long-haul travel. It’s carved from heartache and refined by repetition.
Marti Belle may not be the name on the marquee, but she’s the reason the marquee matters. She didn’t burn bright; she burned long. And in pro wrestling, that’s the rarest kind of flame.
