Why I Believe There’s More Than One Way to Prepare Someone for Violence
By Leonardo Lechuga
I recently read an article titled The Self-Defense Advice Women Get Is Mostly Garbage, written by my friend Eric Turner, founder of Knoxville Martial Arts Academy.
Before I go any further, I want to make something perfectly clear. I have tremendous respect for Eric, his knowledge, his experience, and his contributions to martial arts. He has spent more than 27 years teaching people how to fight, and I believe his article is well thought out, sincere, and, for the most part, absolutely correct.
In fact, I agree with much of what he says.
I’ve spent countless hours watching self-defense videos and demonstrations online, and quite frankly, a lot of what I’ve seen is garbage. Techniques that look impressive against a cooperative partner but would be extremely difficult to execute against someone determined to hurt you. Seminars promising that a few hours of instruction can somehow prepare someone to defend themselves against a larger, stronger attacker. Instructors selling confidence without developing actual capability.
Eric is right to criticize that.
But there’s another side to this conversation, and I believe it’s an important one.
I recently completed a free, four-week women’s self-defense seminar through North Georgia Hayastan Martial Arts & Family Fitness. After reading Eric’s article, I felt compelled to share a different perspective—not because I believe he’s wrong about the value of martial arts training, but because I believe surviving violence and becoming proficient at martial arts are two different things.
And I believe we’re doing our communities a disservice if we suggest that one cannot happen without the other.
Two Different Roads to Understanding Violence
Eric has spent decades developing fighters. I have tremendous respect for that.
I’ve been training martial arts for 17 years myself. I understand the importance of technique, repetition, live resistance, conditioning, and experience.
But my understanding of violence didn’t begin 17 years ago when I started training.
It began when I was 12 years old.
I’m 55 now, and long before I ever stepped onto a martial arts mat, I had already spent years experiencing and surviving real-world violence.
I’m not proud of every part of that history. Some of it came from circumstances I grew up in, and some of it came from decisions I made. But those experiences taught me lessons about violence that I carried with me into martial arts.
And here’s one thing I learned:
Violence doesn’t care what belt you’re wearing.
I’ve watched highly skilled fighters get knocked out in the opening seconds of a fight. I’ve watched people who looked unstoppable in the training room become completely different fighters when they stepped into competition.
Now imagine the difference between a controlled competition and an unexpected attack in a parking lot.
You can train a triangle choke ten thousand times. That doesn’t guarantee you’ll successfully execute it against someone attacking you in the street.
You can be a black belt and still freeze.
You can be a professional fighter and still get caught.
And you can be someone who has never taken a martial arts class and still survive a violent encounter.
None of those statements diminishes the value of training.
They simply acknowledge that there are no guarantees in violence.
What Are We Actually Teaching?
When I designed my women’s self-defense seminar, I made something clear from the beginning.
I am not here to teach you martial arts in four weeks. I’m here to teach you about survival.
There is no possible way I could turn someone into a proficient martial artist in four weeks. I wouldn’t insult my students or my profession by pretending otherwise.
But I believe there are things we can teach in four weeks that may help someone survive a dangerous encounter.
On the first day, before teaching a single physical technique, I asked every woman in the room to close her eyes.
I asked them to envision what they loved most in this world.
Their children. Their families. Their loved ones. Whatever mattered enough that they absolutely had to make it home that night.
Then I asked them to consider what they might be willing to do to get back to those people.
That was the foundation of my seminar.
Not how to win a fight.
Not how to become a martial artist.
What are you willing to do to survive?
Seventeen Years of Martial Arts, and Something Was Missing
I’ve trained martial arts for 17 years, and I cannot remember attending a class where situational awareness was the first thing taught.
Think about that.
We spend years teaching people how to punch, kick, grapple, escape submissions, and defend against opponents.
But how much time do we spend teaching them to recognize a potentially dangerous situation before it becomes physical?
What good is my triangle choke if I never recognize the person following me through a parking lot?
What good is my striking ability if someone catches me completely unaware?
I’m not suggesting that situational awareness prevents every attack. Of course it doesn’t.
I’m saying that recognizing danger before someone has the opportunity to act can be just as important as knowing what to do after the attack begins.
That’s why my seminar started with awareness, recognizing opportunities for attackers, establishing boundaries, understanding distance, and identifying ways to avoid becoming isolated.
We talked about how predators may look for opportunities and people they perceive as vulnerable.
We talked about making those opportunities more difficult.
And I shared real experiences that helped shape my thinking.
Sometimes the Fight You Avoid Is the Fight You Win
One of my fighters, a young man about 5 feet 7 inches tall and weighing approximately 135 pounds, was in Myrtle Beach for a kickboxing tournament.
He and another person were walking on the beach at night when someone suddenly approached them in what appeared to be an attempted robbery.
My fighter literally jumped out of his flip-flops, assumed his fighting stance, and challenged the man.
The man turned around and walked away.
No punches. No kicks. No grappling.
Another situation involved a mother whose child trained at my academy. She had never taken one of my martial arts classes, although she had watched her child train for years.
One evening, after leaving a fitness class, she stopped at Walmart. As she walked through the parking lot, she noticed a man following her.
When she reached her car, he approached from behind.
She turned around, assumed a fighting stance, and said:
“Not today, motherfucker.”
The man walked away.
Now, I can’t tell you exactly what either of those men was thinking. Maybe they decided the confrontation wasn’t worth the trouble. Maybe something else influenced their decisions.
But I can tell you that neither situation required someone to defeat an attacker physically.
Both situations ended without a fight.
And I believe that matters.
In my experience, many people who prey on others are looking for an opportunity, not necessarily a difficult confrontation.
If their intended victim unexpectedly becomes a problem, some will decide that the opportunity isn’t worth pursuing.
Will that happen every time?
Absolutely not.
But does it happen?
I’ve seen it.
My Seminar Was Built Around the Progression of an Attack
This is where I believe my approach differs from many conventional self-defense seminars.
I didn’t design a collection of impressive techniques and ask women to memorize them.
I built the curriculum around what I believe are the stages of a dangerous encounter and how our options change as the situation develops.
We began with situational awareness.
Can you recognize potential danger? Are you paying attention to your surroundings? Do you know where the exits are? Are you noticing someone following you or attempting to isolate you?
The first objective is to avoid the confrontation altogether.
If avoidance fails, we discussed boundaries and distance management.
Can you establish a verbal boundary? Can you keep someone from entering your personal space? Can you position yourself so that you have room to move or escape?
If someone continues advancing, we discussed frames and physical barriers.
In martial arts, we use frames to create and maintain space. We introduced that concept because maintaining distance can be critical when someone is trying to grab or control you.
Then we discussed striking and physical resistance.
Not because I expect someone to become a proficient striker in four weeks, but because I want them to understand that physical resistance may become necessary when attempts to avoid or escape an assault have failed.
And finally, we addressed what happens when the attacker has closed the distance, gained control, and taken the encounter to the ground.
What happens when you’re underneath someone stronger who is attempting to hold you down?
We introduced fundamental grappling concepts, including positioning, frames, escapes, and getting back to our feet.
I had experienced black belts assisting with instruction because I wanted those physical concepts taught responsibly.
But throughout the entire seminar, I emphasized the same objective.
We’re not trying to win a grappling match.
We’re not trying to score points.
We’re not trying to demonstrate a beautiful technique.
We’re trying to survive long enough to create an opportunity to escape.
And if the techniques fail, what then?
That’s where my experience with real-world violence shaped the conversation in ways that might make some people uncomfortable.
Violence Isn’t Pretty, and Survival Might Not Be Either
I believe one of the biggest mistakes we can make when discussing self-defense is presenting violence as something clean, predictable, or controlled.
Real violence can be ugly.
It can be terrifying.
It can involve serious injuries, blood, panic, and decisions we would never contemplate under normal circumstances.
I know because I’ve lived through it.
In my early twenties, before I began martial arts training, part of my ear was bitten off during a fight.
I’ve also bitten people in violent confrontations.
I’ve been in fights where my objective was to inflict as much damage as possible because I believed that was what the situation required.
I’m not glorifying those experiences. I’m explaining where my perspective comes from.
When I teach survival, I don’t pretend that every physical encounter can be resolved through a clean wrist release or a perfectly executed martial arts technique.
We discuss the possibility that a person fighting for their life may have to resort to actions that would ordinarily disgust or horrify them.
That includes biting.
That includes striking vulnerable areas.
That includes the possibility of causing serious injury.
And I make no apologies for discussing those realities in a class about surviving violence.
The Uncomfortable Conversations Most Seminars Avoid
During my seminar, we talked openly about the difference between causing discomfort and inflicting a serious injury.
For example, I don’t teach scratching at someone’s face as though that alone is going to reliably stop a determined attacker.
We discussed why superficial scratching might accomplish very little and could even escalate an assault.
Instead, I explained the serious vulnerability of the eyes and the possibility of severe injury during desperate physical resistance.
We discussed biting and the damage that bites can cause to vulnerable areas of the body.
I shared my firsthand experience of losing part of my ear and having inflicted bite injuries myself.
Human bites can cause serious tissue damage and infection. They’re not harmless, and they’re certainly not something I discuss casually.
But I wanted the women to understand something important.
If you’re being violently assaulted and you genuinely believe your life is in danger, the situation may already be far beyond what we consider acceptable behavior in everyday life.
And that’s where I asked participants to confront their own hesitation.
Some women were visibly uncomfortable with these discussions.
Some couldn’t imagine themselves biting another human being.
One concern that came up was the possibility of contracting HIV or another infection through contact with an attacker’s blood.
Those are legitimate concerns. Blood exposure and bite injuries can carry medical risks, and anyone exposed should seek prompt medical evaluation.
But my response was to ask them to consider the other side of the equation.
What if the alternative is not making it home?
What if you’re trapped in an alley, someone is violently assaulting you, and every attempt to escape has failed?
What if the choice you believe you’re facing is between attempting desperate resistance and the possibility of being killed?
I’m not saying anyone can know exactly what they would do in that moment.
I’m asking them to consider the possibility before they ever face it.
Because my seminar wasn’t about teaching people to be comfortable with violence.
It was about helping them confront the possibility that surviving violence might require them to do something they would ordinarily find unthinkable.
Why I Don’t Rely on the Groin Strike
Another subject we discussed was the familiar advice to kick an attacker in the groin.
It’s probably one of the most common pieces of self-defense advice given to women.
But as a martial arts coach, I’ve seen firsthand that a groin strike doesn’t necessarily stop someone.
In combat sports, fighters sometimes take accidental groin strikes and continue fighting.
I’ve coached fighters through situations where an accidental foul occurred and the referee hadn’t stopped the action. They had to remain engaged rather than assume their opponent would stop.
Pain does not always produce the reaction we expect.
An attacker may be highly agitated, intoxicated, or otherwise unresponsive to pain in the way we imagine.
That doesn’t mean a groin strike can never work.
It means I don’t want someone believing that one particular strike is a guaranteed escape plan.
The same applies to every other technique we discussed.
A strike may fail.
A bite may fail.
A grappling escape may fail.
Even a technique performed by an experienced martial artist may fail.
There is no magic button on the human body that guarantees an attacker will stop.
And that’s exactly why I emphasize survival rather than dependence on any single technique.
When the Attacker Has Already Closed the Distance
One of the most important distinctions in my seminar was what happens when an attacker successfully closes the distance.
I am not teaching women to deliberately move closer to a dangerous person.
Quite the opposite.
We spent considerable time discussing awareness, distance management, frames, movement, and escape.
But what happens when those things don’t work?
What happens when the attacker has grabbed you?
What happens when you’re on the ground, underneath someone stronger, and you cannot immediately escape?
At that point, we’re no longer talking about preventing an assault.
We’re talking about surviving one that’s already happening.
And I believe we have to be willing to discuss the possibility of desperate physical resistance.
My experience has taught me that an attacker who expects to maintain control may react differently when that control is challenged.
Sometimes unexpected resistance changes the momentum of an encounter.
Sometimes it creates an opportunity to get away.
Sometimes it doesn’t.
I cannot guarantee the outcome.
But I want participants to understand that being physically overwhelmed doesn’t automatically mean every possibility of escape has disappeared.
We discussed how resistance, movement, and creating space may sometimes provide an opportunity to disengage.
And we discussed the reality that there may be situations where a person believes they must fight desperately because they have no other apparent means of escape.
The objective isn’t to stay and punish the attacker. The objective is to survive and get away.
That distinction matters.
What Are You Willing to Do to Get Home Tonight?
I kept returning to the exercise from the first day.
Close your eyes.
Picture your children.
Picture your husband, your wife, your parents, or whoever means the world to you.
Now imagine that someone is trying to take away your opportunity to see those people again.
What are you willing to do?
For me, this question is central to survival.
I believe the willingness to resist can sometimes be as important as technical proficiency.
That doesn’t mean determination automatically overcomes physical disadvantages.
It doesn’t mean someone who freezes or complies has failed.
People respond to fear and violence in different ways, including ways they cannot consciously control.
And I am not a psychologist. I’m a martial artist whose understanding of violence also comes from a difficult and violent past.
I can only teach from my experience and the knowledge I’ve gained.
What I wanted to do was challenge the assumption that ordinary people are incapable of desperate resistance simply because they’ve never been trained to fight.
I wanted participants to think about the uncomfortable realities of violence before they ever encountered them.
And I wanted them to understand that survival may require flexibility, determination, and the willingness to abandon the idea that defending yourself will look anything like a martial arts demonstration.
Martial Arts Training Is Not a Guarantee Either
Eric makes an excellent point about the limitations of techniques practiced against cooperative partners.
I agree completely.
But I believe that same scrutiny should be applied to martial arts training itself.
A technique that works in the gym doesn’t automatically work in the street.
A fighter who performs beautifully during training doesn’t necessarily perform the same way under the stress of competition.
And neither environment fully recreates the fear, surprise, uncertainty, and consequences of an unexpected violent assault.
Does that mean years of training are worthless?
Of course not.
It means training is an advantage, not a guarantee.
And I believe the same principle applies to survival education.
Four weeks of education cannot provide the physical proficiency developed through years of training. But that doesn’t mean four weeks of learning about awareness, prevention, danger, resistance, and escape have no value.
The inability to guarantee an outcome does not make preparation worthless.
If it did, we would have to question the value of martial arts training itself, because even the most accomplished martial artist cannot guarantee survival.
I Refuse to Sell False Confidence
Here’s something Eric and I agree on completely.
I despise the idea of selling people a false sense of security.
During discussions about organizing another four-week seminar for teachers, someone suggested giving participants certificates when they completed the program.
My response was immediate.
“A certificate saying what?”
That they’re now certified in self-defense?
Absolutely not.
I will not put my name on something that suggests four weeks of instruction makes someone qualified or proficient in self-defense.
That’s not what I teach.
And that philosophy extends to my children’s martial arts program.
I tell parents from the beginning that if they’re looking for a school where their child receives belts simply for showing up, they’ve come to the wrong place.
We don’t sell belts. We don’t award promotions because someone has paid enough tuition or attended enough classes.
Our students earn their belts by demonstrating that they understand and can apply what they’ve learned.
Why?
Because I don’t want a child walking out of my academy with a false sense of security.
And I certainly don’t want a woman walking out of a four-week seminar believing she’s invincible because someone handed her a certificate.
That would be irresponsible.
There Is More Than One Tool for Survival
Eric also discusses the limitations of personal-defense weapons, particularly when people haven’t practiced accessing or using them.
Again, I agree with his underlying concern.
A tool sitting in someone’s purse isn’t automatically going to save them.
But neither is a black belt around someone’s waist.
There are more options for personal safety than martial arts alone.
Awareness is an option.
Avoidance is an option.
Verbal boundaries are an option.
Escape is an option.
Physical resistance may be an option.
A legally carried defensive tool may be an option.
Continued martial arts training is an excellent option.
None of them guarantees survival.
And none should be presented as a magical solution.
The objective should be to help people understand the options available to them and the limitations of each.
What the Women in My Seminar Actually Learned
We had experienced martial artists participate in our seminar, including women who already understood the technical side of fighting.
Two of those participants told me that the experience opened their eyes to the distinction I was making between martial arts and survival.
A female black belt who assisted with instruction, along with a purple belt assistant, also responded positively to the philosophy behind the curriculum.
That was meaningful to me.
Because the goal wasn’t simply to introduce physical techniques.
It was to encourage participants to think differently about danger, their options, and what survival might require.
We practiced distance management, frames, escapes, ground survival, and other physical skills.
But I repeatedly emphasized that those skills require continued practice to become reliable.
The larger lesson was about awareness, preparation, and refusing to assume that a person is automatically helpless because an attacker is bigger or stronger.
I cannot promise that every woman who attended will respond effectively if she’s ever attacked.
I cannot promise she won’t freeze.
I cannot promise any technique will work.
Neither can anyone teaching martial arts.
But I believe those four weeks were worthwhile.
We Want the Same Thing
I want to finish where I started.
I respect Eric Turner.
I respect his years of experience, his knowledge of martial arts, and his commitment to teaching people legitimate skills.
I believe he’s absolutely right to call out the self-defense industry for selling gimmicks, ineffective techniques, and false confidence.
I share those concerns.
That’s one of the reasons I designed my seminar the way I did.
But I respectfully disagree with the suggestion that a short seminar has little or no value simply because it cannot develop the physical capabilities that come from years of training.
I believe there’s room for both approaches.
I believe everyone who can train consistently in a legitimate martial arts program would benefit from doing so.
I also believe someone who cannot afford classes, cannot commit several nights a week, or may never step inside a martial arts academy still deserves access to meaningful survival education.
We shouldn’t have to choose between teaching people martial arts and teaching people how to think about surviving violence.
We should be doing both.
Eric and I come from different backgrounds, and those backgrounds have shaped our perspectives.
He has spent decades training fighters.
I’ve spent 17 years training martial arts, but my education in real-world violence began when I was 12 years old.
Both experiences have taught me something.
Martial arts can give you tremendous advantages.
The willingness to survive can matter tremendously.
Neither guarantees victory. Neither guarantees survival. And neither should be presented as the only thing that matters.
There are no guarantees when it comes to violence.
But if four weeks of education help even one woman recognize danger sooner, avoid a confrontation, establish a boundary, find an opportunity to escape, or understand that she may have more options than she previously believed, then I believe those four weeks were worth teaching.
Because at the end of the day, my objective isn’t to produce another martial artist.
It’s to help someone get home.