In a business littered with clichés — the jock turned wrestler, the pageant girl turned diva, the indie darling with a thousand armbars — Reby Hardy (née Rebecca Victoria Reyes) never played by the script. She didn’t ask for permission, she didn’t wait for a push, and she sure as hell didn’t smile on cue. From belly dancing in off-Broadway musicals to hurling herself into a feud with Rosemary at the Hardy Compound, Reby Hardy didn’t just walk into pro wrestling — she stormed in wearing heels and holding a steel chair like a purse.
Born in Flushing, Queens — the same gritty corner of New York that gave us Fran Drescher and Mets fans — Reby grew up with Puerto Rican fire in her veins and showbiz in her soul. Her dad? None other than “Señor Benjamin,” a leaf-blower-wielding legend of TNA’s Broken Universe. Her upbringing was equal parts Broadway ambition and bodega brawl, a cocktail that would later serve her well in wrestling rings, reality TV, and online flame wars.
Before anyone knew her as Reby Sky or Reby Hardy, she was racking up magazine covers like they were parking tickets. Playboy? Check. Cyber Girl of the Month? Naturally. GQ and Esquire? You bet. She was the “NY Giants Girl,” a football-loving bombshell who could out-fan the drunkest tailgater in the Meadowlands and probably still pin him afterward. She performed at Radio City Music Hall for Ringo Starr. She belly-danced on DVD. She even had a stint as Miss Howard TV — which in the early 2000s was basically the apex of cable-access fame and Internet thirst.
But Reby didn’t stop at centerfolds and backstage passes. She dove headfirst into the squared circle in 2010, joining the MTV2-produced Lucha Libre USA: Masked Warriors, a show that tried to bring lucha libre to American mainstream and somehow ended up being watched by twelve people and a dog. Wrestling under the name “Rebecca Sky,” she teamed with Nikki Corleone and ODB — which sounds like the set-up for a tequila-fueled bachelorette party — and eventually found herself in mixed tags, lingerie matches, and whatever else the booking committee could dream up between commercials for Axe body spray.
And she took it seriously. Say what you want about her resume, but Reby wasn’t a tourist. She trained, she sold, and she ate bumps that would make your chiropractor retire. Whether she was wrestling Octagoncito in a mixed tag or eating chair shots from Jessicka Havok in Shine Wrestling, Reby proved that her presence wasn’t just for posters — it was for pounding people’s heads in.
Her feud with Havok in Shine? Underrated brutality. After getting mauled with a chair and stretchered out in 2012, Reby came back swinging — not with a smile, but with a score to settle. Their “Career vs. Respect” match in 2013 was less about mat technique and more about catharsis. She didn’t just win — she made Havok shake her hand afterward. Respect earned the hard way, and in wrestling, that’s the only way it counts.
The indies were kind to Reby because she gave them what most couldn’t: buzz, crossover appeal, and enough social media heat to melt polar ice. She teamed with Paul London and Brian Kendrick, lost a few to Ivelisse, and turned up at OMEGA events with future husband Matt Hardy, who was in the middle of a career resurgence built on YouTube madness, piano music, and broken brilliance.
And then came TNA.
God bless TNA — the asylum where ideas went to die and somehow became legends anyway. Reby made her in-ring TNA debut in 2014, pinning Velvet Sky at Knockouts Knockdown 2 before being tossed out of the gauntlet by Angelina Love. But the real magic happened in the “Broken Universe” — where Matt Hardy morphed into a white-haired cryptkeeper babbling about deletion, Jeff turned into Brother Nero, and Reby Hardy became the fiery queen of the compound.
She was more than a valet. She was a sniper in stilettos, playing piano while demons roamed the yard. She spit venom at Rosemary, clashed with Alisha Edwards, and never once looked like she wasn’t in complete control of the insanity. It was avant-garde wrestling as only the Hardys could do — and Reby was the one woman who made it all seem somehow normal. A constant in the chaos.
In 2016, she and Matt turned heel after stealing the TNA World Title with an assist from Tyrus. In 2017, she fought alongside Matt in the Broken Rules match against Decay, took a spear from Moose through a table in 2024, and still showed up the next week for a mixed tag match. That’s not a gimmick — that’s guts.
WWE dipped a toe in the madness, letting Reby appear in the Ultimate Deletion match on Raw, but let’s be honest — the Hardys were always too weird for Stamford. Reby didn’t fit their mold. She was loud, proud, and completely unscripted — three things the machine hates.
Off-screen, Reby was no less fierce. A wife to Matt since 2013, she’s had four children, launched fashion lines, and taken more social media shots than most wrestlers do with a steel chair. She claps back, throws shade, and doesn’t apologize for being the exact person she wants to be. That’s not ego. That’s authenticity in an industry drowning in fake smiles and canned promos.
She’s not just “Matt Hardy’s wife.” She’s a wrestler, a performer, a provocateur, and maybe the only person who could survive — and thrive — inside the Hardy Compound without becoming a broken porcelain doll.
Cornette probably hated her Twitter. Heenan? He would’ve loved her wit and said she hits like a woman scorned in a courtroom drama. And both would agree — she made wrestling interesting.
Because Reby Hardy isn’t just a model who wrestled. She’s a war drum in heels, a Bronx tale with body slams, a chaos agent who made the business feel alive again — one table spot, piano note, and clapback at a time.
