Jul 8, 2025

I got my blue belt and I can’t stop smiling

Over the weekend, I earned my blue belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu! It took 2+ years, 400+ hours on the mat, countless injuries, a panic attack and an hour-long commute each way to a gym that became my happy place.

More than the belt, there are some words that have managed to really stay with me throughout, words that I’ll hold onto.

"I am the one who introduced you to BJJ."

Janghoon insists he introduced me to BJJ in first year. I have zero memory of this, which he finds personally offensive. What I remember is Eric taking me to a few trial classes in Japantown, SF in fourth year. Then, almost a year later, someone from my secondary school raved to me about BJJ and his gym at a house party in London.

I came to a women’s trial class and had no idea what I was doing, but I loved it regardless and kept coming back because of how supportive and kind everyone was, because there was something addictive about the sport.

Maybe Janghoon was the one who planted the seed way back then, maybe that's how it works with things that end up changing your life. They find ways to keep showing up.

"Calm down. Breathe. Think."

Most people I sparred with said this to me for an entire year. (Sometimes people still say this to me, but I’ve gotten a lot better at this!) I'd hold my breath through rounds, death-grip their gi, burn all my energy in thirty seconds.

Once I got thrown, landed flat on my back and had all the wind knocked out of me. I went into a full panic attack — the first and only I’ve every had. I was sobbing on the mat while everyone watched. Mortifying, especially given it was like my first month!

But I came back next week. Kept coming back. Kept hearing that patient refrain to think about what I was doing and slow down. It’s no wonder my phone lock screen just says “breathe”.

"You want to train such that you can keep training for the next 10, 20 years"

Someone told me this after I showed up with my neck barely mobile. I'd tried too hard to escape a choke, trained through the strain, then literally couldn't lift my head cycling home. I was out for over a month. I injured my knee and elbow in similar ways by trying too hard not get tapped or swept.

I never thought of myself as having a big ego, but these injuries taught me otherwise. It’s not about surviving the roll or not getting tapped, it’s about improving your technique and making sure that you can keep showing up next week, next year, next decade.

This means resting properly when you’re injured, being consistent with physio and tapping early.

"I missed you at training”

I'd been away for two weeks. Walked in and three people said this to me. The surprise of being noticed, wanted, missed - it hit different. This was the gym I commuted an hour each way for. Worth every minute on the tube because somewhere along the way, it stopped being just a gym. These people tell me off when I do something stupid, push me when I'm coasting, check if I'm okay when I'm quiet. It's a family, overused word but accurate. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, "Carlson Gracie London is my happy place".

I didn’t realise I’d be so lucky to be with people who would care enough to miss me.

"You don't have to compete. But if you do, I know you'd smash it"

In my first competition, I stepped on the mat before being called, and the referee sent me back. (Embarrassing!) I lost every match and one of them in particular quite brutally. I could barely hold back my tears as I bowed off the mat and could not stop crying after, even in front of my colleagues who came to support me. (Absolute wreck)

Still, I’ve gone back to compete twice more and hope to keep competing because I don’t want to be afraid, because I know I can get better.

But this quote wasn't about winning. It was permission — compete if you want, don't if you don't. Define success your own way. Some teammates compete constantly, others never do. And people respect you for both. What matters is that you keep training.

The "you'd smash it" part wasn't about medals. It was belief that I could handle myself out there, that I'd prepared well, that I'd represent the gym properly. That's the culture: no pressure, but if you go for something, we know you've got it and they’d be right there cheering for me.

Maybe that's why I'm eyeing international competitions for 2026. Not because I have to, but because I can!

"Many people quit after getting their blue belt"

A few people said this to me while I was still a white belt. I guess some people get their validation and leave. But after 400+ hours on the mat, there's no way in hell I'm quitting now.

The coach had already awarded blue belts to the other girls I'd been training with. I genuinely thought I'd be waiting another six months. Then he called my name and I just felt stupidly, overwhelmingly happy — not just for the belt, but because I'd reached this milestone with the women who'd been there since my first class. They'd trained with me through injuries, bad days, and self-doubt. Getting it together made it mean so much more.

My coaches think I deserve this belt, even when I'm not sure I do. That belief feels like both a gift and a responsibility — I want to keep training to properly earn what they see in me.

I've got my collection of reasons to stay now. The stress relief, the strength I've built, the family I found. The way my knuckles look massive from gripping gis (lol). The fact that I can breathe through anything now. This belt isn't an ending. It’s a milestone in a long journey ahead of me that I’m excited to continue.