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I joined Wing Tsun London to learn a fighting style.

I stayed for a completely different reason.

I’m Si Hing Anthony, and this is part one of my Wing Tsun story.

My story began seven years ago, when one of my closest friends and “big brother” told me he had started training in a form of kung fu called Wing Tsun. Being a lifelong martial arts enthusiast—someone who had tried and practised many forms of martial arts with varying levels of commitment over the years—I was familiar with the style and knew it as one of the martial arts practised by the famous Bruce Lee. It was also a style I had always wanted to learn myself, so I jumped at the chance to join my “big brother” in training.

My first session is now a bit of a blur and seemed to end far too quickly. I couldn’t tell you now what I was being taught, or in what order. What I do remember is the feeling of being welcomed warmly, respectfully, and in a friendly way by the other students and the teacher, and an overwhelming feeling of love in the room.

Love for what we were being taught that day, love for the art, and love for the others in the room.

Needless to say, I went back for the next session, and the one after that, and the one after that.

With my previous martial arts experience, I realised pretty quickly how effective, simple, and practically usable the style was in a real-world situation. I also quickly fell in love with the art of Wing Tsun kung fu.

The fact that Wing Tsun is a simple and direct style to use didn’t necessarily make it a simple style to learn. It was completely unlike any other style I had studied, and everything seemed counterintuitive and went against my previous teachings.

From the basic stance (Yee Chi Kim Yeung Ma) to the most basic punch—thrown with the fist vertical and using the triceps and back muscles rather than the more traditional shoulders and core rotation—everything was alien and unfamiliar to me. It took a great deal of time and patience from me, and most importantly from the other students and teachers.

Just months after joining the Kwoon (school), I had the opportunity to travel with other students from my branch of Wing Tsun London to Hungary for a seminar held by the head of our organisation, Grandmaster Máday Norbert.

This was a massive thing for me. Not only would I be meeting students from other Wing Tsun London schools—many of whom had trained for years and had already earned the black shirts that denote the highest student grades—but I would also be introduced to, and train alongside, the Hungarian students and masters who represent the roots of our schools in London and the beating heart of Leung Ting Wing Tsun.

Me—a beginner who could barely perform Siu Nim Tao, correctly throw a punch, or tell the difference between Pak Sau and Fat Sau (one a defence, the other an attack).

To say I was slightly nervous would be an understatement. Quiet terror would be closer to the truth.

We arrived at the seminar to a room full of people: white shirts and black shirts mixed together with those wearing the black, or black-and-red-trimmed, robes of the masters. Everyone was smiling, hugging, shaking hands, and bowing, and once again there was that feeling of warmth, friendship, and an overall sense of love towards everyone.

After lining up and bowing to formally greet Si-Kung Máday as he entered, the seminar began.

The material we covered over those few days was well above my experience level. The techniques, drills, and applications we practised were as foreign to me as the language spoken by most of the people in the room.

I felt completely out of my depth and like a burden to everyone there. And yet, time and time again, I was met with patience, friendliness, kindness, and love by all those I trained with.

There were black shirts from my own schools whom I had met only hours before who, rather than training together or with more experienced partners, gave up their time to slowly break things down and show me the techniques. There were Hungarians who couldn’t even communicate directly with me who did exactly the same.

All I was shown was patience, gentleness, and the love you would show a younger brother or cousin as they first learn to walk or read.

I had been told that Wing Tsun was a system based on family, with names and titles reflecting those ties: Si-Fu (father teacher), Si Hing (older brother), Si Mei (older sister). In that room, I truly felt it.

The love and patience of a family looking out for one another, sharing what they had, and supporting everyone—even the youngest and newest members.

That weekend, I didn’t fall in love with a martial art. I fell in love with something much bigger: a family.

Many times in the seven years since then, I have felt the love of that family, and many times they have carried me through difficult moments—stories I will share in the next part of my journey.

I joined Wing Tsun London to learn a fighting style.

I stayed because I found a family I didn’t know I was looking for.

A family that I still get great pleasure from fighting with.