Becoming a black belt isn’t something that happens in a moment. It looks like a ceremony, a belt tied around your waist, a photo you can point to. But really, it’s the visible marker of thousands of unseen repetitions, choices, and inner reckonings. This weekend, I earned my third black belt, my first in MMA. Nearly twenty years after stepping onto a dojo mat for the first time, I crossed another threshold in a journey that has shaped who I am and how I live, coach, lead, and parent.
And this time, I got to do it alongside my nine-year-old daughter. That made everything land a little deeper.
Where it began
When I first walked into a jujitsu class almost two decades ago, I wasn’t looking for belts, confidence, or community. I’d just come out of a difficult relationship, and without knowing it, I was searching for something that felt like safety. Something that could hold me while the rest of my life felt unsteady.
I found that safety on the mat, shaped not by someone else protecting me, but by the process of learning how to protect myself.
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Understanding where I ended and someone else began.
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Learning that strength isn’t aggression, it’s clarity.
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Seeing that discipline isn’t punishment, it’s devotion.
I earned my first black belt (Shodan) in Jujitsu in 2009 and my second (Nidan) in 2011. Those milestones changed me in ways I couldn’t explain at the time. I didn’t know it then, but I was learning to own my power, trust myself, and build a sense of belonging from the inside out.
Why martial arts keep calling me back
The thing about martial arts, the part most people don’t see, is how it invites presence.
I love the meditative rhythm of it all; the way repetition sharpens a movement, the structure of progressing through the belts, and the moment you realise something that once felt impossible has settled into muscle memory. There’s also a particular kind of power that comes from leaning into both physical and mental strength, a power that feels both grounding and expansive.
On the mat, I don’t shrink. I don’t hesitate. I don’t self-edit. I’m not scared.
I’m inside myself: clear, grounded, direct.
Martial arts is where I first met my Warrioress archetype, not as a mask or a performance, but as a truth I could feel in my bones.
This black belt is different
This weekend’s MMA black belt wasn’t just another achievement. It was a reckoning with the woman I’ve become.
MMA is intense. It’s full-contact, strategic, demanding on every part of you, body, mind, and emotional centre. You can’t fake capability in MMA; the mat will show you where you hesitate, where you hold back, where your old fear still echoes.
And the thing is: I didn’t hold back. Not this time. Not in any part of it.
Four hours of demonstrating skills, knowledge, conditioning, and heart. Nearly four years of MMA training layered on top of a lifetime of self-work and discipline.
This black belt felt like a yes to myself. A yes to my power. A yes to the woman who has grown through every belt before it.
Sharing the journey with my daughter
The part which hit me the deepest?Looking over and seeing my daughter: small and fierce, committed, capable, showing up with the same heart. She was one of the youngest there, and she didn’t flinch. She held her own. (Her sisters do too)
Training with her has been one of the great unexpected joys of motherhood. Parenting isn’t always visible growth; you plant seeds you hope take root. But on the mat, the growth is tangible. You can see her courage, her focus, her delight in her own strength.
And she sees me, too. Not just as Mum, but as a woman who chooses challenge, consistency, and self-belief.
There’s something profoundly bonding about sweating, learning, failing, and rising together. It’s beyond words.
Black belts and self-mastery
I talk a lot about self-mastery in my work, awareness before action, the discipline to become who you want to be, and the courage to take responsibility for your experience.
Martial arts is self-mastery in motion.
Every belt has taught me something essential:
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Shodan taught me I was capable.
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Nidan taught me I was powerful.
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This MMA black belt taught me I no longer need to hide that power.
And woven through all of them is my core principle: Own your power and trust yourself. Because no one can hand you a belt that makes you powerful. You become powerful through the choices you make when no one is watching, through the reps, the resilience, the uncomfortable growth.
A black belt isn’t a reward. It’s a reflection.
Why I keep going
I keep training because it brings me home to myself. Because it reminds me of what I’m capable of. Because it keeps me grounded, embodied, awake.
Because strength, real strength, is a form of safety.
And because walking this road with my daughter, showing her that women can be powerful, disciplined, devoted, and joyful in their strength… that feels like legacy.