When I was nine years old, my parents and I went out to dinner with another family we had been close friends with for years. At the end of the meal, it was time for their son to go to his Taekwondo class, and my parents asked if I wanted to watch. I was incredibly curious because at that time, I was not involved in any sports, and I wanted to see what made this class so exciting for my friend.

After watching him teach his class, I could see that the physical movements, combined with fun drills, exercises, and a competitive spirit, were exactly what I had been missing. I still remember the sharp snap of uniforms as students punched and kicked, the squeak of bare feet on the mat, and the loud, confident shouts that echoed across the dojang. The energy in the room felt electric. I immediately ran back to my parents and begged them to let me try a class. While they were hesitant at first, since I was known to be an incredibly clumsy kid who injured myself quite frequently, they saw how excited I was and agreed.

In that first class, I learned the basics of punching and kicking, how to maintain a strong stance, and the beginnings of a form. Of every sport and activity I had tried before, I had never felt like I immediately belonged. But that night, standing barefoot on the mat in a borrowed uniform that felt slightly too big, something clicked. From then on, I was hooked, and my parents knew that Taekwondo would be the sport I would stick with for years, and eventually, it turned into a lifelong passion.

Before long, I was at the dojang every night and every weekend, taking classes and stepping into leadership roles with other students. I moved up the ranks, throwing myself into everything I could learn, whether it was traditional forms, weapons training, or self-defense techniques. As I got older, I became more interested in becoming an instructor. I began helping teach classes as a student instructor and fell in love with the sport all over again, this time from the perspectives of both student and teacher.

A year after I started, my mom decided it was her turn to try Taekwondo. She saw how much I enjoyed it and thought it might be something we could do together. She participated in a Mother’s Day event where she could take a class alongside me, and we both remember laughing as we trained side by side for the first time. She fell in love just as I had, and for years afterward, we learned and taught together as a mother-daughter duo. We went to tournaments together, taught classes together, and trained at home together. To this day, we both look back fondly on the times we trained in self-defense side by side, tested for our black belts, or went home to practice combat sparring, which usually meant laughing and falling over as we hit each other like we were playing whack-a-mole.

Through our shared passion, experiences, and goals in Taekwondo, my mom felt she had developed a deeper relationship with me. What she truly loved most was seeing how much I grew as a person because of it. I went from being so shy that I could not talk to anyone — my parents had to order for me at restaurants — to teaching a class of over thirty children at once and leading a week-long summer camp. She watched my confidence and self-esteem grow tremendously with every belt I earned and every class I helped lead.

For me, the dojang became my home away from home, and the people there became my second family. No matter what else was going on in my life, whether it was bullying at school, the passing of loved ones, or just the everyday stress of growing up, Taekwondo was always what I could turn to find myself and be the truest version of who I am. It gave me discipline, confidence, and a sense of belonging when I needed it most.

My life was forever changed the day we decided to watch that Taekwondo class, and changed again when my mom decided to join me. What began as simple curiosity became a lifelong passion and a bond between us that we will both hold dearly for the rest of our lives.