On conflict, provocation, self-defense, and the lessons I’ve learned about how people handle their issues with others.
I’ve been in a few physical altercations throughout my existence. And recently, reflecting on every single fight I’ve ever gotten into, I came to an interesting realization: I’ve never had a fair fight in my life. Not once. I’ve never had someone who genuinely had an issue with me approach me directly, tell me what their problem was, and invite me to a fair fade. Head up, chin up, hands up. Instead, the majority of my physical altercations have stemmed from gossip, falling out with people, advocating for myself, speaking up about how I felt, or simply refusing to tolerate certain behaviors. And rather than addressing those issues directly, people would resort to passive-aggressive behavior, calculated provocations, and situations designed to get a reaction out of me. And when I look back at those situations, I can admit something about myself: I folded. Not because I couldn’t defend myself, but because I gave them exactly what they wanted. A reaction.
I’ve had women deliberately bump into me in clubs, only for me to approach them while they were surrounded by their friends, grab them up, swing, and ultimately end up getting jumped. I’ve been knocked off my bike, confronted the person responsible, and watched them hop off their bike and say, “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this.” I’ve invited someone to meet with me because I wanted to have a conversation about things my ex-boyfriend had allegedly been doing behind my back, only to be attacked before I could even stand up and address what I came there to discuss. I’ve even been jumped in front of my own building as a young girl because I chose to walk away from a confrontation. Rather than allowing me to remove myself from the situation, a group of girls followed me, pushed me, and attacked me from behind.
Different people. Different circumstances. Different stages of my life. But the same recurring pattern: someone having an issue with me, refusing to address it directly, and creating a situation where I was forced to defend myself.
What’s interesting about all of this is that I’ve never considered myself a confrontational person. Growing up, I was surrounded by my boy cousins, and play fighting was just part of our childhood. My family had a very clear philosophy: if somebody hits you, you better hit them back. But I was the child who didn’t want to fight. I was the one who would freeze, hesitate, or refuse to hit someone back, even when they had already put their hands on me. There were times when my relatives would literally march me back to the person who had hit me and make me stand up for myself. At the time, I absolutely hated it. I didn’t understand why I had to engage in something I had no desire to participate in. But as an adult, I can appreciate what those experiences taught me. They gave me the confidence and ability to defend myself when walking away wasn’t enough. That doesn’t mean I believe violence is always the answer. Quite the opposite. Knowing how to defend yourself and wanting to fight are two completely different things.
And that’s where my reflection becomes less about the fights themselves and more about the psychology behind the conflicts. Why is it that some people would rather discuss their issues with everybody except the person they actually have a problem with? Why resort to gossip, subtle hostility, passive-aggressive behavior, and calculated disrespect instead of having a direct conversation? Why intentionally provoke someone until they react, only to turn around and act as though their reaction was the original problem?
I’ve noticed that in many of my experiences, the conflict wasn’t even about something serious enough to warrant physical violence. It was often about hurt feelings, misunderstandings, bruised egos, personal insecurities, or people simply not liking that I spoke up for myself. And while some of the women involved were physically bigger than me, what stands out more than their size is the fact that the confrontations rarely happened on equal footing. There was almost always some element of surprise, intimidation, or an audience. Looking back, I question whether these situations were ever about resolving an actual issue or simply about creating an opportunity for confrontation.
Today, I look at those experiences differently. I’m not going to pretend I handled every situation perfectly. There were times I allowed my emotions to dictate my response. Times I approached people when I could have continued walking. Times I gave someone the satisfaction of seeing me react. And I take accountability for that. But I also recognize that being provoked and choosing how to respond are two separate things, and both deserve examination. The older I get, the more I understand that not every disagreement requires a confrontation, not every act of disrespect deserves access to my energy, and certainly not every conflict deserves a physical response. Most of the altercations I’ve experienced could have been avoided through honest communication, mutual understanding, or simply agreeing to disagree and keeping it pushing. Instead, they became physical because someone chose escalation over resolution, and at times, I participated in that escalation.
So when I say I’ve never had a fair fight in my life, I’m not saying that because I’m looking for one. I’m saying it because, in retrospect, it’s fascinating how many people are willing to create conflict but unwilling to have an honest conversation. How many will provoke you but never take responsibility for their role in the situation. How many will mistake your willingness to defend yourself for a desire to fight.
And perhaps the biggest lesson I’ve learned is that just because I know how to defend myself doesn’t mean I have to prove it every time someone tries me.
Sometimes the real power is recognizing the provocation before it becomes a confrontation.
And choosing not to give people the reaction they came looking for.
