Who’s Going to Stop You?

They can close a door. They can’t decide who you become.

There’s a question I think we ask far too often:

Who’s going to let me?

• Who’s going to give me permission?
• Who’s going to give me the opportunity?
• Who’s going to invite me into the room?
• Who’s going to recognize that I’m ready?
• Who’s going to finally decide that I deserve a chance?

Maybe that’s the wrong question.

Maybe the better question is:

Who’s going to stop you?

That doesn’t mean the world is fair.

It isn’t.

It doesn’t mean everybody gets the same opportunities.

They don’t.

It doesn’t mean racism, prejudice, discrimination, poverty, bad luck, illness, age, size, family circumstances, or plain old assholes don’t sometimes make life much harder than it should be.

They do.

And sometimes people really can close a door in your face.

But there’s an enormous difference between somebody being able to close a door and somebody being able to decide who you become.

That second authority is much more dangerous.

Especially when you hand it to them yourself.

I’m Not a Badass

I’ve written before about things I’ve gone through.

I ruptured my spleen, landed in the hospital, recovered, and went back to training.

I spent years training under Grandmaster Han. When I received my first-degree black belt, I was only the 67th person he had promoted to black belt after roughly three decades of teaching.

And now, pushing 61, I’m learning Brazilian jiu-jitsu as a blue belt, a rank that 90% of white belts don't make it to.

I’m proud of those things.

I worked fucking hard for some of them.

But I sometimes worry that when I tell those stories, it sounds like I’m saying:

Look at me. I’m a badass.

That’s not the point.

Because when I need to remind myself what toughness really looks like, I don’t look in the mirror.

I look uphill.

And I think you should too.

Not at me.

At people who were handed circumstances far harder than most of us will ever face and somehow refused to allow those circumstances to become the final word on what they were capable of.

One of those people was Benjamin O. Davis Jr.

They Tried to Make Him Quit

​Davis entered West Point in 1932.​

He was Black.

West Point admitted him.

Many of the cadets around him decided they would make him wish it hadn’t.

For four years, Davis was deliberately socially isolated.

He had no roommate.

He ate largely alone.

Other cadets generally refused to speak with him except when military duties required it.

The objective was pretty obvious:

Make his life miserable enough that he quits.

Think about that.

West Point is difficult enough when you have classmates, friends, roommates, study partners, and people around you who understand what you’re going through.

Davis largely had none of that.

And the important part of this story isn’t simply that people treated him badly.

The important part is what happened next.

He stayed.

Then he graduated.

Not at the bottom.

Not barely hanging on.

Benjamin O. Davis Jr. graduated 35th out of 276 cadets.

Then he wanted to become an Army aviator.

And once again, the answer was essentially:

Not you.

The segregated Army did not provide Black officers the same opportunity to enter military aviation.

So imagine the lesson he could have taken from that.

You survive four years of people trying to force you out.

You prove that you belong.

You outperform most of your class.

And the next gatekeeper still says no.

At some point, it would be understandable to ask:

Who is ever going to let me?

But Davis’s life points toward a much more useful question.

Who is going to stop me?

They Can Close a Door

Here’s where I want to be careful.

This story does not prove that determination magically makes discrimination disappear.

It doesn’t.

Davis could not simply walk into an Army airplane because he wanted to badly enough.

• Institutions matter
• Laws matter
• Prejudice matters
• Power matters

People sometimes control opportunities you cannot force them to give you.

That’s reality.

But there is another reality running alongside it.

While somebody else controls the door, you still control what you do outside the door.

You can prepare.

You can learn.

You can improve.

You can maintain your standard.

You can become more capable.

You can refuse to let somebody else’s opinion become your opinion of yourself.

Davis kept preparing.

Eventually, the United States began training Black military pilots at Tuskegee.

And when that door finally opened, he was ready to walk through it.

He became a pilot.

He commanded the 99th Fighter Squadron.​

Later, he commanded the 332nd Fighter Group.​

He became one of the central leaders of the Tuskegee Airmen.​

Everybody loves the part of the story where the door opens.

I’m more interested in the years before it opened.

Because that is where most of us actually live.

What Are You Doing While the Door Is Closed?

That’s the question for you.

Not Davis.

Not the Tuskegee Airmen.

You.

What are you doing while the opportunity hasn’t arrived yet?

Are you getting better?

Are you preparing?

Are you building the skills?

Are you becoming more useful?

Are you staying physically and mentally ready?

Or have you decided that because somebody hasn’t given you permission yet, you should stop becoming the person who could seize the opportunity when it finally appears?

That’s the trap.

And it can sound completely reasonable.

They won’t give me a chance.

Maybe they won’t.

My boss doesn’t see what I can do.

Maybe he doesn’t.

People like me don’t usually get those opportunities.

Maybe they don’t.

I’m too old.

Maybe you are older than everyone else.

I’m too small.

Maybe you are.

The system is unfair.

It may very well be.

Those facts matter.

But none of them answer the next question:

What are you going to do now?

Give Me the Same Standard

This is one of the reasons I respect the Tuskegee Airmen so much.

They weren’t asking for easier airplanes.

They weren’t asking for the standards to be lowered.

They were demanding the opportunity to meet the standard.

In my head, the message sounds something like this:

• Give me the same test.
• Give me the same airplane.
• Give me the same battlefield.
• Give me the same standard.
• Then judge me by what I do.

That’s a very different posture from:

Please tell me I’m special.

It is:

Give me the opportunity to prove myself.

And if the opportunity isn’t available yet?

I’m going to keep getting ready.

​Go For Broke!​

Growing up in Hawaiʻi, another example has always stayed with me.

The Nisei soldiers of World War II.

The 100th Infantry Battalion.​

The 442nd Regimental Combat Team.​

Go For Broke.

Japanese Americans were being treated with suspicion because of their ancestry.

On the mainland, many Japanese American families were forced into incarceration camps.​

And at the same time, Japanese American young men volunteered to serve the United States.

Think about the contradiction in that.

A country can fail to live up to its ideals and still contain people willing to fight for those ideals.

The injustice was wrong.

Period.

Their response to that injustice was extraordinary.

They weren’t asking for an easier standard either.

They were essentially saying:

Give us the chance.

Same country.

Same uniform.

Same danger.

Same standard.

Then see what we can do.

That is why these stories matter.

Not because you are Benjamin O. Davis Jr.

Not because you are one of the Tuskegee Airmen.

Not because you are one of the Nisei soldiers of the 100th or 442nd.

You aren’t.

Neither am I.

Their lives are not costumes for us to put on so we can feel heroic.

They are measuring sticks.

They remind us how much human agency can remain even when circumstances are deeply unfair.

The World Owes You No Easy Mat

I get a tiny lesson in this every time I train jiu-jitsu.

The mat does not care about my biography.

The white belt on top of me doesn’t loosen the choke he's trying because I’m almost 61, he's too busy trying to get good at something which is hard for him.

The position doesn’t become fair because I’m smaller.

Nobody gives me an extra point because I tried really hard.

Reality is simply reality.

So I have to deal with what is actually happening.

Breathe.

Protect my neck.

Frame.

Move.

Create space.

Solve the next problem.

That is one reason martial arts can be such a brutal but useful teacher.

It keeps asking:

What are you going to do with what is actually happening?

Not what should be happening.

Not what you wish were happening.

Not what would be happening if everybody treated you perfectly.

What is happening now?

And what are you going to do about it?

Don’t Confuse Fairness With Agency

There are two questions you have to learn to hold at the same time.

Question One: Is this fair?

Sometimes the answer is:

Hell no.

Fight unfairness when you can.

Correct injustice when you can.

Call bullshit when bullshit needs to be called.

Help make the system better for the person coming behind you.

But then comes Question Two:

What am I going to do with the part that is mine?

That question never goes away.

You can be absolutely correct that something is unfair and still surrender far too much of your agency to the unfairness.

The person who discriminated against you may have been wrong.

Don’t let their judgment become your standard.

The boss who underestimated you may have been wrong.

Don’t stop developing because he was too blind to see it.

The person who told you that you were too old may have been wrong.

Don’t finish the job for them by quitting.

Someone may be able to deny you one opportunity.

That does not mean they get to decide what you become capable of next.

Stop Asking for Permission to Become Capable

I think this is where a lot of people get stuck.

They’re waiting.

Waiting to feel confident.

Waiting to be chosen.

Waiting for somebody to recognize them.

Waiting for the economy.

Waiting for the boss.

Waiting for the perfect school.

Waiting for somebody to finally say:

Okay. Now you’re allowed.

Fuck that.

You may need permission to enter somebody else’s building.

You may need permission to hold somebody else’s job.

You may need permission to use somebody else’s resources.

But you do not need their permission to prepare.

You do not need permission to study.

You do not need permission to train.

You do not need permission to improve your character.

You do not need permission to get stronger.

You do not need permission to learn how to lead.

You do not need permission to become more capable than you were yesterday.

That may be the most important distinction in this entire article.

Who’s Going to Stop You?

Maybe somebody can stop you from getting this job.

Maybe somebody can stop you from joining this organization.

Maybe somebody can deny you this opportunity.

Maybe circumstances force you onto a completely different path than the one you wanted.

That happens.

So I’m not offering you some bullshit motivational promise that nobody can ever stop anything you want to do.

They can.

Life can.

Reality can.

But the deeper question is:

Who gets to stop you from continuing to become more capable?

• Who gets to decide your standard?
• Who gets to decide whether you keep learning?
• Who gets to decide whether you train?
• Who gets to decide whether you prepare?
• Who gets to decide whether you try another door?

And most importantly:

Who gets to decide whether somebody else’s judgment becomes your standard?

That authority belongs to you far more often than you think.

Don’t surrender it cheaply.

When I’m tired, frustrated, discouraged, or tempted to think my circumstances are especially difficult, I look uphill.

I look at Benjamin O. Davis Jr.

I look at the Tuskegee Airmen.

I look at the men of the 100th and 442nd.

And I don’t think:

I’m just like those guys.

I’m not.

I think:

If human beings could maintain their standard under that kind of pressure, what excuse am I making today?

Maybe that’s the question I want to leave with you.

Not:

Who’s going to let you?

But:

Who’s going to stop you?

They may control the gate.

They may control one opportunity.

They may make the path unfair.

They may make you work twice as hard for half the recognition.

But don’t casually hand them the one thing they should never own:

The Authority to Decide Who You Become

That’s yours.

Keep it.

And when the opportunity comes:

Go For Broke!

— Chuck

⚔️ The Dojo Drill: Stop Waiting for Permission

Take five minutes and write down one area of your life where you’ve been waiting for somebody else to “let” you move forward.

Maybe it’s:

• a promotion;
• starting a business;
• going back to school;
• getting healthier;
• learning a new skill;
• speaking up;
• taking on more responsibility;
• finally beginning something you’ve talked yourself out of.

Then answer these three questions:

1. What door am I waiting for someone else to open?

Be specific.

2. What part of this is actually outside my control?

Don’t bullshit yourself. Some things really are outside your control.

3. What can I do anyway?

• What can you learn?
• What can you practice?
• What can you build?
• Who can you meet?
• What can you prepare?
• What can you improve before the door ever opens?

Then choose one action you can take in the next 24 hours without asking anybody’s permission.

Not the whole plan.

One rep.

One phone call.

One page.

One workout.

One application.

One conversation.

One hour of practice.

The goal isn’t to pretend nobody can stop you.

Sometimes they can.

The goal is to stop giving other people control over the part that still belongs to you.

Your standard. Your preparation. Your next move.

So before you finish, ask yourself one last question:

Who’s going to stop you?

📚 Leader’s Library

​Steve Magness — Do Hard Things​

Why?

Magness offers a smarter way to think about toughness.

Instead of treating toughness as simply enduring more pain, pushing harder, or refusing to show weakness, he explores how resilience actually develops through awareness, adaptability, confidence, and the ability to respond well under pressure.

It is a useful read for anyone who wants to become more capable in difficult situations without confusing suffering for strength.

A strong addition to the library for anyone interested in resilience, performance, leadership, and becoming harder to knock off course.

P.S. Know a martial arts gym owner who’s stressed about money or student numbers?

Do them a favor: send them to The Leader's Dōjō, my website where I help owners get more students and keep them longer with simple systems.

One forward from you could change their gym: The Leader's Dōjō​

Chuck