Being the Only Woman on the Mats

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve walked into a gym, scanned the room, and realized…

I’m the only woman here.

Again.

At this point, it’s almost expected. I don’t walk in hoping for it to be different—I walk in ready

for it not to be.

And the truth is, it’s taught me a lot.

But it hasn’t always been easy.

The Reality of Being the Only One

There’s a certain feeling that comes with being the only woman in a male-dominated sport.

Sometimes it’s empowering.

Sometimes it’s isolating.

And sometimes it’s both in the same round.

You feel eyes on you when you walk in.

You wonder who you’re going to train with.

You don’t always have someone your size, your strength, or your pace.

And you learn quickly—you don’t get to ease into it.

You just have to go.

Respect Isn’t Given—It’s Earned

One thing I’ve learned is that respect doesn’t come automatically.

You earn it.

Round by round. Rep by rep.

At first, people don’t know what to do with you.

Some go too hard—like they need to prove something.

Some go too light—like they’re afraid to touch you.

And somewhere in the middle, you’re just trying to train. But over time, if you keep showing up, keep working, keep holding your own—that energy shifts.

Not because you demanded respect.

But because you proved you belong.

The Mental Battle No One Sees

Being the only woman isn’t just physical—it’s mental.

There’s pressure.

Pressure to perform.

Pressure to not be “the weak one.”

Pressure to represent more than just yourself.

Some days, it feels like if you have a bad round, it’s not just your bad round—it reflects on every woman who steps on those mats.

And that weight can get heavy.

You question yourself.

You wonder if you’re good enough.

If you’re keeping up.

If you belong.

But you show up anyway.

When There Is Another Woman—And It’s Not What You Expected

There’s something else people don’t talk about.

You’d think when another woman walks into the room, it would feel like relief.

And sometimes it does.

But sometimes… it doesn’t.

Sometimes it feels like tension you didn’t ask for.

Like instead of gaining a teammate, you gained a comparison.

Who’s better.

Who’s tougher. Who the coach pays more attention to.

Who really belongs there.

And the truth is—I’ve never wanted that.

All I’ve ever wanted in those moments is a training partner.

Someone who understands what it feels like to walk into a room full of men.

Someone I can grow with.

Someone I don’t have to explain myself to.

But instead, there can be distance. Guarded energy. Unspoken competition.

And I don’t think it’s because women are naturally like that.

I think it’s because there’s so little space for us that it feels like we have to be.

When there’s only one or two women in the room, it can feel like there’s only room for one to stand out.

Like you’re fighting for space that should already be yours.

But There’s More Room Than We Think

The older I get—and the more I grow in this sport—the more I realize something:

There is room for all of us.

More women doesn’t take anything away from us.

It actually makes everything better.

Better training.

Better energy.

Better community.

The best environments I’ve ever been in weren’t the ones where I was the only woman.

They were the ones where women supported each other, pushed each other, and got better together.

Where we could be competitive and supportive.

Where we didn’t have to choose.

Motherhood Changed How I See All of This

Coming back into this space as a mom shifted everything for me.

I’m not here to prove I’m better than anyone.

I’m here because this is part of who I am.

And now, I’m showing my kids what it looks like to take up space—even when you’re not expected to be there.

To walk into rooms where you might be the only one like you—and not shrink.

To stay soft in who you are, but strong in how you show up.

Soft and Savage

I’ve learned I can be both.

I can be nurturing, patient, and gentle at home.

And I can be relentless, focused, and aggressive on the mats.

I don’t have to choose.

And I don’t have to compete with every woman who steps into the room.

I’d rather grow with her.

Because at the end of the day—

I’m not looking for rivalry.

I’m looking for rounds.

If You’ve Ever Felt This Too

If you’ve ever walked into a room and felt like you didn’t belong…

If you’ve ever been the only woman and felt the weight of it…

If you’ve ever wanted connection but felt competition instead…

You’re not alone.

There’s space for you here.

There’s space for all of us.

And we don’t have to harden to survive it. We can stay soft—

And still be savage.