Why I Don’t Call It "Self-Defense"

I teach a fighting system that I refer to as “Close Quarters Combatives (CQC)”— a strike-based Jiu-Jitsu style built on five elemental principles, weaving together striking, joint locks, chokes, throws, takedowns, and pins. It’s a complete toolkit, designed to handle real-world chaos. But if you ask me to label it "self-defense," I’ll push back. That term doesn’t fit what I do. It’s outdated, loaded with baggage, and honestly, it misses the mark for what my students walk away with.

The Problem with "Self-Defense"

"Self-defense" sounds noble on paper—protecting yourself from harm. But over time, it watered down into something vague and overhyped. Walk into a strip-mall dojo, and you’ll see it plastered everywhere: "Learn self-defense!" What you get is often a grab-bag of stiff punches, awkward wrist escapes, or choreographed moves that look slick in a mirror but crumble when the adrenaline hits. The term’s been hijacked by martial arts marketing, promising empowerment but delivering something that’s more than reality.

To me, "self-defense" feels reactive—like you’re always on the back foot, waiting for an attack to happen so you can respond. It’s a mindset that starts with survival, not control. My system isn’t about weathering the storm; it’s about steering it. When I teach a student to strike with intent, lock a joint, or slam someone to the concrete, they’re not just defending, they’re dictating the fight. "Self-defense" doesn’t capture that shift.

Too Narrow for the Big Picture

Another issue? The phrase is too damn narrow. It implies a single moment—a guy grabs you; you fend him off, end of story. But CQC isn’t a one-trick pony. The five elements I draw from give striking a foundation that’s adaptable and alive. Add in joint locks, chokes, throws, takedowns, and pins, and you’ve got a system that flows across ranges and scenarios. It’s not about surviving an ambush; it’s about owning the encounter from start to finish.

The martial arts world loves to slap "self-defense" on anything with a punch or a kick, but that dilutes the term. It’s become a catch-all that doesn’t distinguish between a weekend seminar and a lifelong practice. My students aren’t training for a hypothetical mugging—they’re building a skillset that’s practical, fluid, and battle-tested. Calling it "self-defense" cheapens that depth.

CQC: A Better Fit

So why "CQC"? Because it cuts through the noise. It’s direct and real built for fighting, not just surviving, and it delivers when the heat comes on. "Combatives" carries that battle-ready edge, rooted in the gritty control of Jiu-Jitsu but amped up with striking that’s woven deep into the system, not bolted on. Those five elements—fire, water, earth, wind, void—aren’t some side notes: they’re the pulse, driving every strike, choke, lock, throw, takedown, and pin into one seamless flow. This isn’t about fending off a cartoon villain from a script; it’s about smashing through whatever comes at you, no matter what the mess.