What My Black Belt Means to Me

On October 25th, 2013, I received my black belt in Brazilian Jiu-JItsu from Mestre Sylvio Behring. It was a seven-hour instructor symposium culminating in my demonstration, in which I showed some of my best techniques including wrestling, no-gi, sport Jiu-Jitsu in the gi and self-defense. Two of my training partners assisted me in the demo, a brown belt named John and a blue belt named Correy. This was the demo:




In the weeks leading up to this huge day, I did a lot of thinking about the concept of a black belt, what it represents and what it means to me to wear one. I remember the day I made the decision to leave the MMA school I was training at before Arashi-Do, which was mainly a Kyokushin Karate school. While they did have grappling elements in the program, I knew that someday I wanted to be a black belt in BJJ and that I couldn't achieve it if I stayed there and that was one of the main reasons I left. Even then though, I didn't really understand the gravity of actually being one. I was too far removed. Being a black belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu to me meant being Fabricio Verdum or Ricardo Arona - respected and feared. In my state of emotional maturity at the time (See: teenager), that was what I wanted out of it.

When I arrived at Arashi-Do, BJJ was definitely a means to an end. I had my sights set on being a professional fighter and had my second pro fight just before starting to train there officially. However, when I got a taste of real BJJ, I completely fell in love with it and MMA quickly became a distant second priority, then dropped from my mind entirely.

When I was growing up, I was a competitive swimmer. I was very successful in swimming on a national level, but it wasn't really the kind of sport that you got into as a way of expressing your individuality. The best and fastest way to perform the four strokes has been established for decades now, and success on a technical level will depend largely on how well you're suited to it. Jiu-Jitsu, on the other hand is so incredibly expansive - literally anyone can find Jiu-Jitsu that works well for them and expresses their personality and intellect. I know that statistically very few people that start Jiu-Jitsu will ever make it to purple belt, let alone black but I've just never understood how.

I love everything about BJJ. I love how I can train in it for literally the rest of my life and still discover new things about it. I love the kind of people it attracts (three of my four groomsmen were people I've met through BJJ) and I love how when people look at me doing BJJ, it doesn't look exactly the same as anyone else in the world doing it, and since I started the thought has literally never crossed my mind that there might be a day that I don't do this stuff anymore. Being a 10th degree Red Belt is even further removed from me now than black belt was when I first started, but now that the black belt has come and gone, if I keep teaching and training for the rest of my life, who knows?

The black belt represents the techniques I've learned, but when I look at it or feel it around my waist I know that it's also made up of the experiences and people that make up my Jiu-Jitsu family. It's amazing to think about how much of my life has happened since I walked into Arashi-Do with a white belt on. I think that's also why I love teaching so much. If someone in my class someday looks at their own black belt and thinks to themselves that some of their happiest memories are from being on the mats in my class, I think I'll have achieved something very special, as my instructors have done for me.