I hate self defence seminars. I see them being offered in yoga studios, to community centres, to MMA Gyms trying to fill a weekend slot. The concept is appealing: spend a couple hours on a Saturday, learn a few moves, feel safer walking to your car at night. But here’s the hard truth: self-defence seminars are a fantasy. They sell comfort. Not competence.
And if your goal is to truly protect yourself or your loved ones, you need to understand why these quick-fix solutions are not only ineffective—they’re potentially dangerous.
The long hard road to confidence with self protection is hard. As a kid that suffered from bullying growing up, I remember the times I felt truly helpless, thinking I wish I knew some “moves”, to protect myself. I copied techniques I’d see from Tekken in my basement. I’d look in the mirror and yell thinking I’m going super Saiyan, ready to power up to fight the bullies. However, one thing then I failed to understand that my cartoon heroes deeply understood, was that their skills were earned through the drudgery of hard work. At that time, my kicks looked lifeless, limp, and pathetic — I lacked the flexibility to get my leg over the height of my own hips, I lacked the strength to make any sort of substancial impact, and I lacked the conviction to hit with ferocity.
All these qualities cannot be assembled over the course of a weekend. They are built with years of consistent focus, repetition, and exposure to stressful situations. They are built through repeatedly overcoming problems, understanding specific vulnerabilities in positioning, and constantly learning.
These seminars sell you a shortcut: You get to learn a few techniques, go through some drills, and walk away with a certificate, maybe a free t-shirt, and the idea that you’ve taken a step toward personal safety.
But the moment someone comes at you in real life—aggressive, unpredictable, and possibly armed—you’ll realize just how useless that certificate is.
A few years ago, I was in Lisbon, Portugal with one of my best friends. It was a beautiful October night, the night of my birthday actually, and we went out to watch a UEFA Soccer Game. The game was a blast, and we decided to carry on the birthday festivities at Bairro Alto which is a street in Lisbon that is littered with many bars and restaurants. As the night was coming to a close, my friend and I were standing near a taxi stand, with a few other tourists. A man in a silver Honda Sedan rolls up to the taxi stand and he asks us if we have any cigarettes. I tell him no, and that I don’t smoke — he whirls his eyes and shakes his head. He then asks the girls that are next to us at the taxi stand, and they also tell him they don’t smoke. Frustrated, he rolls up his tinted windows, and drives away — except he proceeds to do a loop and come back to the same taxi stand.
He rolls down his window again. He has a passenger with him who sits there quietly as the man leans forward and demands, “just give me a cigarette man..”
I tell him, “like i said before man I don’t smoke — but if I did, I’d still be out of cigarettes.”
The crowd around me started to giggle, and then he interjected, “Hey, hey, hey — where you from?”
I point at myself, “me? I’m from Canada.”
At this point he sticks his head far forward, and he raises his middle finger, “F*ck Canada!”
At this point, the giggling stopped and there was noticeable tension in the air, so I replied back with, “I know man, f*ck Canada, why do you think I’m here?” The crowd around me erupted in laughter and frustration began to seep into the man’s demeanour. He rolled up his window and rushed away from the taxi stand, kicking up dirt as he left. It seemed to be that the night was now over, we waited patiently for taxis, and approximately 10 minutes went by. I glanced towards the left and I see the same car slowly approaching the taxi stand from a distance. I see the two men in the car, they are arguing now, my heart starts to pound in my chest, and I can feel that something is definetly not right here. The man starts to walk towards me. Olive skin, bald head, bearded. He looks enraged. This man was walking towards me with bad intentions, and I see his hand shift, beginning to reach into the waistband of his jeans.
In that moment, I remember almost instantly sprinting towards him. My eyes caught sight of him reaching for his pants and I immediately sprung forward and grabbed this man with a single hand collar tie, and started pummeling his skull with elbows. His body fell limp to the wayside and I see a silver revolver glistening on the concrete next to him.
This man, wanted to shoot me over not offering him a cigarette. I tried to defuse tension with humour, I even made fun of my own country, I was not trying to antagonize this person yet still — he chose violence.
Now, I am not telling this story to seem brave — I’m telling this story because years of training taught me to recognize the potential of a bad situation, and take action before something terrible could happen. The years of training I do have taught me to understand body language, how to be able to deal with feelings of intense stress and anxiety, and how to respond with force if needed. I was not procedurally thinking at all, I was reflexively reacting. I did not look at this man walking towards me and think: 1. Assailant approaches, clasp non dominant hand, over the crown of the neck to control there posture – 2. Ensure my own head stays in line with there head, 3. If needed, patrol the arms to avoid them using a weapon, 4. Strike with punches, elbows or knee strikes. I was simply reacting from the hundreds of thousands of reps over the years of sparring, fighting, pad work, and bag work.
Real violence is fast, ugly, and chaotic. It’s not scripted. There are no “single punch” scenarios. No one steps back and gives you time to remember a wrist lock.
Here’s what self-defence seminars don’t prepare you for:
- Adrenaline Dump: Your body floods with stress hormones. Fine motor skills disappear. Your heart rate skyrockets. You don’t “think”—you react.
- Unpredictability: Real attackers don’t play by the rules. They don’t attack like your training partner. They move fast, hit hard, and don’t wait their turn.
- Zero Pressure Testing: In most seminars, techniques are demonstrated with compliant partners. No resistance. No sparring. No pressure. And if you’ve never practiced a technique against someone trying to stop you, you have no idea if it works.
The skills taught in weekend workshops are often shallow, unrealistic, and worst of all—untested.
One of the worst outcomes of self-defence seminars is the illusion of competence. People walk away thinking they’re equipped to handle a violent encounter, when in reality, they’ve never even trained against a resisting opponent. That illusion can lead to overconfidence—which can get people hurt, or worse.
It’s the same as someone buying a can of bear mace, for a weekend of back country camping in the Rockies, when they’ve never once seen a bear in there life and never bothered to read the instructions on how to fire the can.
This isn’t about tearing people down for trying to take their safety seriously—it’s about being honest with what actually works. If your goal is to feel better for a day? Sure, take the seminar. But if your goal is actual self-protection, you need to accept that there are no shortcuts.
If You’re Serious About Self-Defence…There are only two paths that offer real-world self-protection
- Commit to a Martial Art
- Pick one—Muay Thai, BJJ, boxing, wrestling—and train it consistently. Don’t dabble. Dive in. Train until your reactions are automatic. Until you’ve failed enough times that you know what works for you.
- Carry a Weapon (Legally and Responsibly)
- If you live in a place where it’s legal and appropriate to do so, carrying a weapon is a practical layer of protection. But even then, you need training. Just owning a weapon doesn’t make you safer. Knowing how and when to use it does.
Martial arts isn’t about violence. It’s about control. Mastery. Self-awareness. And yes—preparedness.
If you truly want to be able to protect yourself or your family, take the hard road. Train. Spar. Drill. Learn from failure. Build real skill over time.
Because in a real situation, you won’t rise to the level of your hopes. You’ll fall to the level of your training.
And if your training amounts to a Saturday afternoon in a rec center… that’s exactly what you’ll fall to.
