From Isolation to Empowerment: Finding My Place Through Kung Fu

When I first moved to Hong Kong, I was ready to put my entire life, energy, and passion into Kung Fu. What I didn’t realize was how much I would have to sacrifice along the way.

I lived near the Chinese border, in an area where almost everyone spoke Cantonese. Expats were rare, and every time I saw another white person, they would wave at me—it was that unusual. Slowly, I began to form small connections and build a community, but most of my friends were Kung Fu masters in their 50s, 60s, or 70s, who spoke very little English.

Sundays became my anchor. I would go to the Kung Fu corner to watch performances, practice, and chat with my teachers and peers. Even though there was a language barrier, the Kung Fu itself became our shared language. It was a strange and wonderful feeling—being so isolated, yet so connected to this new world through movement, tradition, and discipline.

At the time, I was probably the only white woman in the Hong Kong Kung Fu community. People knew me; sometimes I became unexpectedly part of their performances. I remember one day, completely unprepared in jeans, being pulled from the crowd onto the stage. Someone handed me a broadsword and said, “Go!” I laughed, took it, and performed as best I could. That moment was terrifying, exhilarating, and strangely empowering all at once.

Life outside Kung Fu was small and confining. My apartment was tiny—just about two meters by one meter, with a bed above my table and barely enough space to sit without touching the walls. I would look down from the 26th floor at the other buildings and tell myself, “It’s going to get better.” But it took years before my environment, and my sense of belonging, truly expanded.

The turning point came slowly. I built a more international circle, found better living arrangements, and even got Taco, my corgi, who became my best companion. Most importantly, my Sifu became a home in a way I hadn’t expected. Despite cultural misunderstandings and moments lost in translation, Kung Fu became our bridge. It connected us, gave me a sense of purpose, and grounded me when everything else felt foreign.

Looking back, isolation was difficult—but it taught me resilience, patience, and the value of connection. Kung Fu was not just training; it was a community, a bridge across language and culture, and a source of empowerment. Every challenge, every lonely day, and every small victory helped me grow into the person I am today.

Isolation can feel lonely, frustrating, and even discouraging. But it’s also a powerful teacher. Through it, I discovered the strength of community, the joy of connection, and the empowerment that comes from perseverance. Kung Fu didn’t just shape my body and skills—it shaped my life.