What is a fighter?

I opened a newsletter from a fellow professional recently that stopped me in my tracks.

It wasn't the usual industry update. It wasn't the standard pleasantries we trade to keep the wheels turning. Instead of sticking to the "safe" script, she used her platform to go into heavy, polarizing issues regarding ICE and immigration. She laid bare her true feelings.

She decided, in that moment, to drop the "professional atmosphere" and the fear of "ruffling feathers."

She wrote about the tension between protecting her business with a scarcity mindset and doing the right thing. She admitted that staying quiet to save followers was, in her words, "selfish."

So, she hit send.

She risked her reach, her client base, and her comfort to say: This is what I stand for.

It got me thinking about how we define ourselves.

In my line of work, we have a strict metric: You are a "Boxer" only when you have had your first fight.

We don't give you the title for hitting the bag. You earn it only after you go through the grueling training. The weight loss. The misery of trying to make weight. The sober social hangouts. Not socializing at all. The 2-3 times a day workouts. The waiting. The warm-up. The terrifying walk to the ring. And whatever else may have come to your mind.

Win or loss, once you have that notch on your belt, now we consider you a boxer.

I have had clients—people I’ve trained, and even those I haven't—tell me that a boxing match is literally the hardest thing they have ever done in their life.

And I know, as you read this, you might be thinking: Wow, really?

But if you have never had a boxing match, you simply do not know. You cannot understand.

It is truly an out-of-this-world experience. It is a separation from reality where time moves differently, where the danger is immediate, and where there is nowhere to hide. To them, in that moment, it is the peak of human difficulty.

But is it?

I saw a video of Denzel Washington recently where he shut down the idea that acting is "hard." He said, essentially: "Sending your child overseas as a soldier is hard, making a movie is a gift."

I can’t act. And honestly, the thought of making a movie sounds horrible to me. But I can box.

And after 50 or so fights, I have to ask myself: Was boxing the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do?

I don’t think so.

I have clients tell me about health problems I can’t even fathom.
I have coworkers share family issues that make me want to run home and hug my parents just to say "thank you."
I hear members in the gym talk about the hate they experience just for trying to exist, and it makes me want to start cracking skulls.

Hell, even the thought of truly dealing with my own plumbing problems makes me want to pluck out all my eyebrows.

So, is the definition of a fighter just "someone who deals with something hard"?

No. That’s just being human.

People often ask me who my favorite boxer is. It sounds trite, but I always answer: Muhammad Ali.

It isn't just because of his skill as a boxer. It is because of his voice.

There is a quote of his that, to me, defines what it means to be a fighter in the real world:

"I am America. I am the part you won’t recognize. But get used to me. Black, confident, cocky; my name, not yours; my religion, not yours; my goals, my own; get used to me."

In today’s world, Ali and I might disagree on things. If we sat down to talk politics or theology, we might find ourselves in opposite corners.

But I don't look up to him because we align on every issue. I look up to him because he forced the world to see him as he was.

He didn't ask for permission to be himself. He didn't dilute his identity to make the crowd comfortable.

He simply said: My name, not yours. My goals, my own.

He took a stance. He stood by it. He didn't do it to be popular; he didn't do it to get "likes" or sell tickets. He did it because that is who he was.

So, how do we define a fighter?

It isn't the person who struggles. We all struggle.
It isn't the person who wins. Plenty of winners are cowards in their private lives.

The fighter is the person who stands in the center of the ring even when no one wants them there.

It’s easy to fight when the crowd is behind you. It’s easy to speak when everyone agrees.
But the true fighter is the one who steps into the center, hears the boos—or worse, the command to leave—and says: "Get used to me."

That, to me, is a fighter.