Living with Doubt as a Woman in Martial Arts
If I could summarize what it’s like to be a female martial artist and business owner into one word, I would choose the word: DOUBT.
I constantly carry the weight of doubt. I feel like I have to prove myself over and over, even when I know my skills and experience speak for itself. I deal with the subtle ways my respect is tested, the microaggressions, and the condescending tones that my male peers rarely face. That pressure sometimes feeds my imposter syndrome, making me question myself despite everything I’ve accomplished.
“You’re good for a girl.”
“We’re concerned for your safety.”
“I don’t want to hurt a girl. No offence but I don’t want to train with you. Safety first, you understand right?”
“You’re only good at teaching because you’re a girl.”
“Are you sure people want to learn martial arts from a young woman?”
“That’s just a hobby.”
“Stay in your lane.”
“How’s your little business going?”
“Can I speak to the man in charge?”
“It’s a very competitive field, are you sure you’re going to make it?”
Yes, everything listed above are real things people have said to me over the years and to that, I say play “The Man” by Taylor Swift.
Growing Up in a Male-Dominated Space
As a young girl in martial arts, I often found myself in a space where very few other girls trained, especially at a competitive level. With no peers my age or rank, I grew up sparring adults, many of them men much bigger and stronger than me. At first, that seemed like a disadvantage, but it became one of my greatest strengths. Those early experiences taught me that technique, speed, and mental focus could overcome size and power. Learning to fight smart instead of just hard shaped the way I approach every challenge on the mats.
Still, I wanted the chance to train with someone closer to my size and skill level. Since that wasn’t available at my own club, we looked for ways to get creative with training opportunities. Around the age of 12, this led me to cross-train in kickboxing; an opportunity born out of necessity that turned into a passion. I was fortunate to train alongside my friend, Emilie Charette, who pushed me to grow as both a martial artist and an athlete. Not only did this experience sharpen my skills, but it also introduced me to a new style I came to love: kickboxing.
Breaking Barriers in Competition
At 17, I competed at the Northern Ontario WKC Provincial Tryouts in Sault Ste. Marie. Sparring had always been my favourite division, so registering for mixed teens black belt sparring was a natural choice. The only problem? No other girls registered.
Some of the boys in the division immediately voiced concerns about my safety. They worried that because of the size difference, they might injure me. The host of the tournament, Master John Gencarelli, approached me with two options:
- Stay in my division and spar the boys.
- Move up to the 18+ women’s black belt division.
My response? “Can I do both?” He laughed and told me I had to choose. I followed up with, “Well, which division has more athletes? I just want as many matches as possible before Nationals.” In the end, I chose to stay in the mixed teens division.
A few competitors were still very hesitant, but my long-time friend, Zephyr Rouleau, spoke up for me. He reassured the others that I had the skill, speed, and discipline to compete fairly and hold my own in the ring. His support meant a lot, but it was the doubt from others that truly fueled me.
Match after match, I stepped into the ring with something to prove. Four rounds later, I walked away with the gold medal, a spot at Nationals, and the knowledge that I had broken through a barrier. That day, I didn’t just win matches; I showed that women belong in every division, no matter who’s standing across the mat.
Making History: The Sparring Grands Victory
The 18th Annual Nickel Capital Budo Championships became a historic turning point in martial arts when, at just 18 years old, I became the first woman ever to win the Men & Women Black Belt Sparring Grand Champion title.
Unlike traditional divisions, Sparring Grands is a high-stakes competition where all gold medalists regardless of weight class or gender; face off to determine the best fighter in the tournament. Since my very first tournament, I had dreamed of that title. I used to tell my dad with certainty, “It’s not a matter of if I’ll win it, it’s a matter of when.”
When it was time to line up for Sparring Grands, a few competitors suggested I should take the bye round because I was the lightweight female winner. To them, that seemed “fair.” But I didn’t want shortcuts.
“When I wear my uniform, I’m a martial artist. Not just a girl,” I told them. “If I win this, I want to earn it.” Some laughed. Some warned they wouldn’t hold back. But I stood firm. I wanted every match, every challenge, every chance to prove myself.
I fought my way through the bracket, match after match, until I secured a place in the final round. That’s when I was told something I’ll never forget: if I won my next fight, I would become the first woman in the history of this tournament to take home the Sparring Grands title.
The weight of that moment hit me. Suddenly, it wasn’t just about me. It was about every young girl in the stands, every female martial artist who had ever second-guessed her strength, and every future competitor watching to see what was possible.
When I stepped onto the mat for the final fight, the atmosphere shifted. The gym buzzed with an energy I had never experienced before. Time seemed to slow, adrenaline coursed through me, and I knew exactly what I needed to do. The crowd roared. Women and girls chanted my name. I had never felt that much support in my entire competitive career. Every ounce of doubt evaporated, replaced with belief; not just my own, but everyone else’s too.
The victory was overwhelming, but the impact was even greater. People approached me afterward not just with congratulations, but with gratitude. Parents thanked me for showing their daughters what was possible. Young girls told me, with eyes wide and voices full of determination, “I want to win Sparring Grands one day because of you.”
That day, I didn’t just earn a title. I changed what people thought was possible for women in martial arts. And that is a legacy far greater than any medal.
From Competitor to Business Owner
At the age of 27, I achieved a dream I had been carrying since I was just 12 or 13 years old. I opened my own martial arts club, Rise Above Martial Arts. I knew entrepreneurship wouldn’t be easy, but what surprised me most wasn’t the long hours or the financial risks. Instead, it was the number of times people assumed that I, the owner and head instructor, must be a man.
From supplier inquiries to social media messages to parents registering their children, I’ve received over 30 “Hi Sir” introductions. More than once, I’ve been asked to speak to “the man in charge” or had people assume my boyfriend or dad must be the real business owner. Even when I made it clear in our marketing that we are proudly female-owned and operated, the assumptions still crept in.
At the same time, I’ve been told that I talk too much about women’s empowerment in martial arts. Some people even wondered if we offered classes for boys and men at all. Those comments used to frustrate me until I learned one of the most important lessons in business: you can’t be everything to everyone.
As someone who used to struggle with people pleasing, these experiences were a turning point. Instead of letting them discourage me, I learned to embrace who I am and the values my school represents. I even carry a constant reminder of this lesson in the form of a tattoo on my leg: “comparison is the thief of joy.”
That quote pushes me to focus less on the assumptions of others or comparing myself to my male peers and more on being a better version of myself every day. And as a result, I’ve fallen even deeper in love with my work; teaching martial arts, managing the day-to-day operations, and building a community that supports each other.
Defining Success on My Own Terms
Despite the doubts others may have had, the success of Rise Above Martial Arts speaks for itself. In under two years, we’ve been able to:
- Receive silver for the Community Votes Sudbury Awards in the martial arts category
- Receive 16 glowing reviews with 100% of reviewers recommending our dojang
- I was recognized with the 2025 YWCA Woman of Distinction Award in Entrepreneurship
- Donate over $6,000 back into our community through various initiatives
These achievements remind me that resilience, passion, and authenticity will always shine through even louder than the doubts or misconceptions.
What I’ve learned as a woman in martial arts and business is that doubt will always exist, but so will the choice to rise above it. My advice to other girls and women chasing big goals is simple: believe failure is not an option. Success isn’t luck; it’s the result of showing up, putting in the work, and refusing to quit.
Don’t chase quick wins. Instead, fall in love with the grind; the long days, the unseen hours, the 1% improvements no one claps for. Those small, steady gains are what make you unshakable. Over time, the effort you put in compounds into confidence, skill, and resilience that no one can take away.
The truth is, you’ll either succeed or you’ll stop before you get there. So keep moving forward. Surround yourself with people who push you higher, and protect your vision by only listening to those living a life you’d be proud to step into.
Rising Above
Martial arts has given me more than just physical strength; it’s taught me how to thrive in the face of doubt, in the dojang and in business. And if there’s one thing I want every woman to take away, it’s this: keep working, keep believing, and never let anyone else define what you’re capable of.