As I faced my lowest moments, the one thing that kept me from doing something bad — to myself or someone else — was the strong pull toward martial arts that I have felt ever since I was a little boy. Growing up, one of my favorite things in the world was watching martial arts movies. Even before the bullying started, I knew I wanted to be involved in martial arts.

Initially, my mom couldn’t afford karate lessons, so I was resourceful. If I wasn’t going to be taught, I would teach myself. So, I did … through video games. Some of the techniques you see me perform today — like that spinning back kick on The Ultimate Fighter two years ago — might have originated on a SEGA Genesis or Nintendo 64. Crazy, I know, but also true.

Eventually, my mother saved up enough money to pay for real lessons. In retrospect, karate not only changed my life — it saved it. Martial arts became everything to me: my father, my courage, and my discipline. It taught me to stand up for myself, to keep my friends close, and my enemies closer. It helped me make the right decisions (most of the time), to understand people better, to see things from a different perspective, and to trust my gut.

I took to martial arts immediately, quickly earning a black belt and winning numerous tournaments. Fast forward 15 years, and here I am in the UFC, with 10 pro wins and one of the most famous knockouts of all time — all before the age of 30. And while my primary goal is to win the UFC middleweight belt, I still have so many more things I want to do with my life, in part because it’s a life I almost didn’t get to live.

Maybe that’s why people have such a hard time understanding me, or wondering why I don’t have a so-called “killer instinct” in the cage. I get it — on the surface, I am black, I am brash, and I intimidate people. Some likely see what I look like and what I do for a living, and expect violence. But deep down, I don’t even view myself as a fighter at my core. I am more like my mother, a gentle soul. She is the most positive person I have ever known. She’s full of love, a never-hurt-a-fly kind of woman.

So, the doubters out there don’t bother me anymore. If I am anything like my mom is, I view that as a good thing, something to be proud of. After all, she’s the one responsible for making sure that I got on the right path. I won’t let her down, and I won’t let anyone else’s opinion of me distract me from what I want to do, either inside the octagon or out of it. Not anymore. Those days are over.