What woman didn’t feel like punching the air this week when they read about the female kickboxer who rendered a sex attacker unconscious by placing his head in a scissor-grip with her legs after having reportedly told him: “Go fuck yourself”? To quote the song from Chicago, Cell Block Tango: he had it coming.

The woman, who has chosen to remain anonymous, was awarded £500 for her bravery by the judge in the case, and, while grateful for the gesture, she was quick to point out that “my motivation was just survival at the time”.

As someone who has survived a similar attack, I empathise. There is no rhyme or reason to anyone’s behaviour when you think you’re going to die, so words like “bravery” can feel inapposite. After fighting off my attacker in a similarly sweary and forceful way (I kicked, scratched, punched, wrestled him to the ground, and told him he was a motherfucker) I was also praised by a judge for my bravery. But it didn’t feel like that, it felt like an instinctive reaction to the prospect of imminent death. And every woman’s instincts – every person’s – are different. Ascribing greater meaning to the actions of the primitive part of the brain can come unpleasantly close to victim-blaming.

Indeed, a woman’s “decision” to act (or not) in the event of an attack can often be put under the microscope in ways that suggest she could even bear some responsibility for her own rape. Despite the fact that “freezing” during a traumatic incident is a common behavioural response, some still feel compelled to ask: “Why didn’t you fight back?” This question has often been used to cast aspersions on a woman’s claim to have been sexually attacked, in a way that is clearly wrong and indefensible.

All that taken into consideration, I can’t help but wonder what has happened to the self-defence classes that were so beloved of feminists in the 70s and 80s. Has feminist orthodoxy, especially online, reached such a point that encouraging women to embark on self-defence courses or teaching them basic safety tips has become tantamount to holding them responsible for their own rapes? “Don’t teach women how not to get raped,” goes the common mantra, “teach men not to rape.”

That’s all very well, I think, when I hear this, but I am not about to sit around waiting for a mammoth cultural shift before I feel safer on the streets. Until society changes, what’s wrong with any woman equipping herself with some of the skills that could (and the word “could” is crucial here – there are no certainties) give her a fighting chance? Self-defence is not my responsibility; it is my choice, just as it is every woman’s choice.

It saddens me that some feminists are still unable to grasp this. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve seen advocates of self-defence accused of “victim-blaming”. This is a symptom of what empowering self-defence expert Lynne Marie Wanamaker has called “the self defence paradox.” She writes: “One facet of this paradox is the fact that one person – the perpetrator – holds sole responsibility for the decision to assault someone. The other is the fact that people at risk of violence can take effective steps to increase their own safety.”

There are, of course, some shoddy self-defence teachers who will perpetuate rape myths, but it is worth noting that many modern practitioners also teach women about the importance of consent; equip them with information about the behaviours which hint at the potential to commit sexual and violent assaults, and who they are likely to victimise; teach them what a healthy relationship looks like; and provide them with assertiveness training, as well as teaching physical fighting skills.

As Martha McCaughey, author of Real Knockouts, points out, women’s self-defence culture can actually act as a threat to rape culture – a culture in which rape is pervasive and to an extent normalised – because it “casts the association between masculinity and violence radically into question. It challenges the rape myth that men rape because of size and strength.”

Any decent self-defence instructor will also know enough about the subject to be able to debunk rape myths, such as the notion that you’re most likely to be raped by a stranger.

I am baffled as to why self-defence has become so apparently outmoded, because it helped me when I needed it most. I grew up with a mother who used to run workshops for women who were victims of domestic violence in South London. It was she who taught me to face my attacker kicking and screaming, and in doing so she saved my life. That’s not to say that I might not have frozen – as I said above, you cannot predict how any human will react, and I speak only for myself – but I am baffled that it is not taught more in schools. Why not have kickboxing and martial arts in PE lessons? Ultimately, extracurricular karate lessons proved more useful to me than netball ever did.

Sarah Green, acting director of the End Violence Against Women Coalition, says that it’s crucial that we see self-defence culture in the context that produced it.

“I appreciate the view that it can sound a bit ‘blamey’,” she says, “but the thinking of women in the 70s and 80s wasn’t that simple. It was about getting women to feel like they were strong, autonomous beings, with strong bodies, not presumed to be passive.”

The classes would include lessons “about things like posture and being very present and assertive,” she continues. “As a comparison, at around the same time the first women’s refuges would teach DIY/household/change-a-lightbulb skills, so women might have the proper practical skills to move on and live independently should they so choose.”

Times have changed since then, but sexism is still a problem. Self-defence is not just about protecting yourself from potential assailants, but about physical empowerment. I have a group of feminist friends who – under the recommendation of Gia Milinovich, who punched a man in the face when he broke into her home – have taken up boxing and are enthusiastic about the benefits, both in terms of fitness and confidence. Though Milinovich went into boxing purely for fitness, she says that physical confidence has been its “greatest gift”.

Helen Lewis, deputy editor of the New Statesman, who also boxes, tells me that while self-defence won’t “save” you from being assaulted – most women who suffer rape or violence are attacked by their own partners ( thus debunking the “dark alley” myth) – it can have psychological benefits in a society in which women are so often encouraged to think about how their bodies look rather than how they feel. Not only does it make you feel strong and powerful, she says, but it can also “make you feel less intimidated when you get cat-called or someone invades your personal space”.

Considering this, it’s difficult to see how teaching boxing or martial arts in schools would not benefit young women – even if most of them hopefully never do have to strangle a potential attacker with their thighs (an attacker who, I feel compelled to repeat, is 100% responsible for the attack). But before that happens, modern feminists need to get over the self-defence paradox and start seeing the culture’s overwhelming benefits. I know I have – I just bought a pair of boxing gloves.