Asher's Blog

When I was growing up, I was told something very clearly: fighting was wrong. Physical fights were unacceptable, and the expectation was that you avoided them at all costs. That lesson settled deeply into my mind, so for most of my early years, I stayed far away from confrontation. I believed that the right thing to do was to walk away, to keep peace, to avoid the chaos that comes with conflict.

That approach worked for a while.

But in Year 9, something happened that disrupted that pattern. I fought a tall girl in school. I cannot even remember all the details of how it escalated, but what I remember vividly is that the fight did not end the way people would expect. A year later, in Year 10, we became a little close and it was a little affectionate, even though we ended up attending different schools because I left shortly after the incident. And of course, if you understand African households, you already know how that story ends. Trust African mothers; the relationship did not even have the chance to truly begin before it was firmly shut down.

After that fighting episode in year 9, I went back to my old pattern. I avoided fights completely. Not just physical fights, but confrontation in general. I did not get into altercations with my peers, and I carried that same disposition quietly into adulthood. It followed me into business and into life. I preferred negotiation to confrontation, diplomacy to conflict, and patience to aggression. For a long time, I thought that was strength.

But a shift began some time ago, although the moment that made it visible came unexpectedly. I watched the clip where Donald Trump shouted, “Fight, fight, fight.” after the attempted assassination on him. It was a reflexive response in a tense moment, but for me it landed differently. That moment did not start the thought; it revealed something that had already been building inside me.

Prior to that, I had gone through a difficult season marked by anxiety and the sting of betrayal. Therapy helped me realize something about myself that I had never fully acknowledged. Even though I am resolute in pursuing goals, I also have a soft spot for peers and friends, and in difficult situations I tended to avoid direct confrontation. I would find alternative paths to get things done rather than step into the conflict itself. Over time, that quietly built a habit of being conciliatory. The deeper realization was that avoiding the fight is not always wisdom. Sometimes it is simply discomfort. So I made a deliberate decision that surprised even me. I joined a boxing class.

It was my first time stepping into that environment, and the experience humbled me immediately. In my mind, I thought I was reasonably strong, but the first few sessions quickly exposed the truth. My arms were weak. My punches lacked force. My coordination was poor. I could barely execute a proper left jab or hook during my first week of training. Even my balance needed work. The training was relentless. Within days, my ribs were bruised so badly that I had to take a full seven days off just to recover. Every breath reminded me that I had entered a completely different world. But after resting, I went back. Because by then, I had realized something important.

Fighting is not just physical, fighting is a mentality. It is the decision to engage rather than retreat. It is the discipline to prepare when the odds look uncomfortable. It is the courage to continue even when you feel weak, unprepared, or temporarily defeated.

That realization also changed how I think about raising my daughters. They are surrounded by love, and they are used to a high degree of care and protection. But love alone is not enough preparation for life. They also need to understand that the world has a lot of wolves. People will betray them. Projects will fail. Plans will collapse. Friendships will disappoint them. Opportunities will slip through their fingers. When those moments come, the worst thing they could do is collapse emotionally and remain on the ground.

They must learn to stand. They must learn to fight because they are winners. That is the mentality I want them to carry because we are not quitters. We are people with stamina. We endure, we adjust, and we push forward until the outcome changes. The more I reflect on it, the more I realize that many of the most meaningful achievements in life are things that must be fought for.

Recently at work, we reached an important milestone, and I am convinced it happened because I led the team with a very clear mindset: we were in a fight. When you see the situation that way, the current results do not dictate your attitude. The numbers on the dashboard may look discouraging, the progress may appear slow, and the pressure may be rising, but the mentality remains the same. We still have to achieve the outcome. So we lean in, adjust, push harder, and fight our way to the result.

Over time, I have begun to form a few personal laws of fighting.

1. The first law is simple but powerful: once you leave the table, be sure that it was your decision. Never walk away from a battle because fear pushed you out. Walk away only when strategy tells you that the fight is no longer worth the cost. A champion thinks differently about conflict. Champions do not expect opportunities to arrive effortlessly. They expect resistance. They prepare for it. They build stamina for it.
2. The second law is to pick your fights wisely. Not every battle deserves your energy. The best fighters choose conflicts where victory is achievable and meaningful. Fighting everywhere exhausts you. Fighting strategically positions you for wins that matter.
3. The third law is to get the best coaches you can find. No fighter trains alone. Expertise matters. Guidance matters. Whether in boxing or business, experienced mentors shorten the learning curve and help you avoid unnecessary damage.
4. The fourth law is preparation. Preparation is the backbone of every victory. Strategy matters deeply, because every fight is shaped by assumptions, and assumptions must constantly be reviewed. Conditions change quickly. Markets shift. Competitors evolve. If your assumptions are outdated, your strategy becomes fragile. A true fighter remains flexible, malleable, and alert.
5. The fifth law is patience in striking. You may not give the first punch, but you must give the last. And the last punch is not the last until you are the winner. Victory belongs to the person who remains standing when the contest is over.
6. The sixth law is to prepare for loss. Every serious fighter understands that setbacks are inevitable. Sometimes losing a round creates an advantage. Sometimes allowing your opponent to believe they have won creates strategic space for a comeback. Perception is part of the battlefield.
7. The final law is humility in victory. Winning should never make you arrogant. The same discipline that helped you win must remain intact after the victory, because arrogance is often the first step toward defeat.

When I look back now, I realize that avoiding fights did not necessarily make me peaceful; sometimes it simply made me passive. Learning to fight, both physically and mentally, has changed that perspective. Life is not a place where everything arrives on a platter of gold. Some things must be earned through endurance. Some victories only emerge after resistance. Some breakthroughs appear only when you decide that retreat is no longer an option. Fighting, therefore, is not violence. Fighting is resolve. It is the way of a successful life. Fight to win.

I wish you well.