Taekwondo continues to fascinate me not because of the flashy kicks or Olympic golds, but because it evolves as I do. From discipline and timing to the quiet wisdom of tradition, each step on the mat teaches something new—about others, about the world, and mostly, about yourself. This is more than a martial art. It’s a lifelong conversation between movement and meaning.
I was 13 when I first saw someone perform a spinning hook kick. I can’t remember if it was at a demo, a class, or a YouTube video lost in algorithmic memory—but I remember the sound it made: a sharp exhale, a foot slicing air, and the solid slap of contact on a pad. That was it. I was hooked.
But Taekwondo doesn’t just fascinate me because it’s flashy. That’s a common misconception among people who’ve only watched it on TV. Yes, it’s known for its fast kicks and Olympic pedigree, but to reduce it to “just kicks” is like saying music is “just noise.”
“It’s hard to describe,” said Lena, a 21-year-old color belt practitioner at a dojang in the Netherlands. “When I started, I thought it was just a workout with cool moves. But the way you carry yourself changes. You notice it when you walk. You feel taller—not just in posture, but inside.”
Lena’s comment resonated with me. Taekwondo creeps into your spine and attitude. It makes you stand taller, not because you’ve learned to fight, but because you’ve learned discipline, control, and timing.
According to World Taekwondo’s official training guidelines, 70% of a standard beginner curriculum focuses not on combat, but on forms (poomsae), balance, and body awareness. Combat comes later—first you must know how to stand.
Beyond the Uniform: Taekwondo as a Lens
I’ve been training on and off for years. And what’s interesting is that Taekwondo doesn’t always fascinate me in the same way. At first, it was physical—the joy of movement, of kicking high and jumping far. Later, it became about the inner rhythm of the forms and their calm flow.
Now? Now I’m fascinated by how Taekwondo mirrors life.
“When I can’t train, I watch,” admitted Marco, a 34-year-old father of two and longtime fan of the sport. “Sometimes it’s tournament footage. Other times it’s short interviews with athletes talking about their journey. It’s not about fighting for me. It’s about watching people find themselves.”
Marco’s view matters because it challenges a narrow understanding of martial arts. He’s not a practitioner, but he finds meaning in the way Taekwondo helps others shape their identity.
And that’s the thing—Taekwondo is a system, not just of self-defense, but of self-exploration. It tells you things about your patience, about how you breathe, about what you do when you fail a test, or get hit, or realize your balance is off.
A 2022 survey from Kukkiwon (the official global Taekwondo headquarters in South Korea) found that over 60% of practitioners cited personal development—not combat or fitness—as their primary reason for continuing training after their first year.
The Quiet Things You Learn Without Realizing
Timing, Not Force
One of the biggest surprises for beginners is how little Taekwondo is about brute strength. If you watch Olympic matches, you’ll see light-footed movement, sharp explosive kicks, and often… a lot of waiting.
“There’s this moment when your opponent shifts weight,” explained Lena. “You’re watching their hips, not their face. And then—bam—you go. Not before.”
It’s the art of timing. And that’s what drew me back in after years of inconsistency. Life is all about timing. Whether you’re taking a job, ending a relationship, or choosing when to speak up.
Taekwondo is full of metaphors. You don’t rush the kick. You don’t chase power. You move when the opportunity is real.
This principle is central in the philosophy of Do, the “way” in Taekwondo. As the saying goes, “Taekwondo is 10% technique, 90% mindset.”
Control as the Real Power
There’s a common misunderstanding that martial arts are about learning how to hurt others. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
“I once kicked too hard during sparring and hit a beginner too roughly,” said Lena, eyes downcast. “He got winded and sat down for 10 minutes. I felt horrible. That was the moment I realized: It’s not about proving you can hit. It’s about proving you can not hit.”
As an observer, Marco echoed something similar:
“When I watch competitions, I’m not looking for knockouts. I’m watching for restraint. Who could have gone harder but didn’t? That’s what shows maturity.”
This aligns with Taekwondo’s five tenets: Courtesy, Integrity, Perseverance, Self-Control, and Indomitable Spirit. Each one isn’t just a classroom poster—they show up when it matters most: under pressure.
The Fascination of Tradition in a Modern Frame
Global but Deeply Personal
There’s a paradox I love about Taekwondo: it’s both hyper-global and deeply local. You can go to almost any country in the world and find a dojang. And yet, every school feels unique—different teachers, rituals, and ways of speaking.
As of 2024, Taekwondo is practiced in over 200 countries, with more than 80 million practitioners worldwide.
And yet, each student has a different story. A different reason for returning to class after a hard day.
For me, it’s a grounding mechanism. The structured bow-in ritual at the start of class. The white uniform that makes everyone equal. The stillness before movement.
Even the Korean terminology plays a role. Words like “Charyeot” (attention) or “Kyungnae” (bow) are more than commands—they reset the atmosphere.
“I don’t understand most Korean,” Marco confessed with a laugh, “but I love how it sounds. There’s respect in it. It’s like watching a ceremony, even when it’s just a local club.”
He’s right. Taekwondo teaches you to value moments. To honor spaces, not just people.
Why the Fascination Doesn’t Fade
So why does Taekwondo keep fascinating me?
Because every time I think I’ve seen all it has to offer, it shows me something new. A new layer to a kick. A new dimension to a form. A new application of patience or humility or awareness.
It fascinates me because it teaches without words.
It fascinates me because it looks simple but isn’t.
It fascinates me because in a chaotic world, there’s a kind of quiet clarity when you’re barefoot on the mat, breathing in sync with others, aiming not to fight—but to grow.
Between Olympic Spotlight and Dojang Shadows
A Combat Sport or a Martial Art?
Taekwondo stands at a unique crossroads. On one hand, it’s a full-fledged Olympic sport, with strict point systems, weight divisions, and world rankings. On the other, it remains deeply rooted in centuries-old martial principles, often invisible to those who only catch the highlights on TV every four years.
“I love martial arts. I follow Muay Thai, BJJ, even Sanda. But Taekwondo has this aesthetic edge that keeps me watching,” said Felix R., a 29-year-old combat sports enthusiast from Berlin. “It’s almost poetic. You don’t just win by hitting—you win by timing, by elevation, by elegance.”
Felix’s perspective isn’t rare. A growing number of martial arts fans have begun to appreciate the technical complexity and visual language of Taekwondo, especially when it’s done with purpose beyond medals.
But let’s not pretend the sport hasn’t struggled with its image. Critics say Olympic Taekwondo has become “point tag with feet,” emphasizing speed over power, and strategy over real-world application.
Yet those same critics miss a core truth: sport is only one branch of the Taekwondo tree.
According to Kukkiwon’s 2023 Global Curriculum Review, only about 20% of Taekwondo practitioners globally train for competition. The rest train for health, discipline, community, and self-defense.
“Competition is a path—not the path,” said Master Ji Seong-ho, a 7th dan instructor and head of a traditional dojang in Seoul. “My students bow the same whether they win or lose. They practice to understand themselves. If you only chase gold, you will never understand Taekwondo.”
Master Ji’s words hit differently when you realize how many people have quit after burnout in tournament circles. But those who stay for the art—the Do—find something more lasting.
taekwondo bow respect
Taekwondo in the Age of YouTube, TikTok, and UFC
Visibility, for Better and Worse
In the 90s and early 2000s, if you wanted to understand Taekwondo, you had to join a local club, or buy VHS tapes. Today, a 10-year-old can search “540 roundhouse” and learn from athletes across the globe in seconds.
Social media has brought Taekwondo into sharper public view. Demos, cinematic kicks, and viral fails—everything is shareable. But visibility doesn’t equal understanding.
“I saw this viral guy do three flips into a kick. People called it Taekwondo, but it wasn’t,” said Felix. “There’s a difference between tricking and training. One’s about performance. The other’s about depth.”
He’s absolutely right. What you see online is often only the flash, not the foundation. Many viral athletes borrow from Taekwondo techniques but strip them of their original structure and purpose.
“I have no problem with people being creative,” said Master Ji. “But I tell my students: if your technique looks powerful but is empty inside, it will betray you. Real Taekwondo never sacrifices balance for spectacle.”
Still, some of the most positive shifts have come thanks to digital media.
Athletes like Jade Jones (UK), Hadi Saei (Iran), or Lee Dae-Hoon (South Korea) have inspired new generations not just with medals, but with stories of humility, sacrifice, and longevity.
The UFC Effect and Street Credibility
In recent years, questions have emerged: “Can Taekwondo work in MMA?” “Is it realistic in self-defense?” “Is it too stylized?”
It’s a fair debate. In MMA, where effectiveness is everything, Taekwondo isn’t the base art of choice. But it still finds its way into the octagon. Fighters like Anthony Pettis, Yair Rodríguez, and Stephen Thompson have used Taekwondo-based kicks to dramatic effect.
“Those guys don’t just throw kicks. They create angles that others can’t,” Felix said. “When I see Thompson land a spinning hook in the cage, I’m like—yeah, that’s the real stuff.”
The point here isn’t that Taekwondo must prove itself through MMA. Rather, its techniques can be effective—when paired with range control, footwork, and adaptation.
And Taekwondo practitioners have begun to realize: realism comes not from copying other arts, but from evolving within their own logic.
Keeping the Spirit Alive in a Changing World
Modern Students, Ancient Values
“I teach teenagers who have more screen time than focus time,” Master Ji joked, “but Taekwondo slows them down. They bow, they breathe, they wait. Slowly, they grow.”
Today’s young students face a chaotic world—fast, fragmented, digital. Taekwondo offers the opposite: stillness, ritual, linear progress. You wear your rank, you earn your form, you wait before you advance.
“It’s the opposite of TikTok,” Felix added. “You can’t skip belts. You can’t filter your sidekick. You’re exposed, and that’s the point.”
Author’s comment: As someone who has trained across three different continents, I’ve seen how the culture of the school matters more than the country. A dojang that honors the core values of Taekwondo—respect, perseverance, humility—will produce strong individuals whether or not they ever compete.
In 2021, the World Taekwondo Peace Corps reported that over 8,000 instructors had served internationally to promote Taekwondo not just as a sport, but as a cultural and ethical education. This global mentorship is one of the least-publicized but most impactful branches of the art.
Diversity Within Uniformity
Another beautiful aspect of modern Taekwondo is its inclusiveness. From para-athletes to seniors to children with ADHD, the uniform fits all.
“In my dojang,” Master Ji shared, “we have a 68-year-old student and a 7-year-old student. They line up side by side. Age doesn’t decide spirit.”
That line struck me. And it’s true. In no other environment have I seen such diversity flourish under such strict formality. Everyone bows. Everyone waits their turn. Everyone learns something different from the same drill.
And for many students, including myself, this is where the fascination deepens—not in the variety of kicks, but in the variety of people who find something meaningful in practicing them.
Summary and Lasting Lessons
Why the Fascination Endures
So let’s return to the original question: Why does Taekwondo keep fascinating me?
It’s not just the kicks, the rituals, or the nostalgia of childhood training. It’s because Taekwondo is a mirror. It changes as I change. It teaches more as I become more ready to listen.
From the combat sports fan who appreciates its angles and elegance… To the master who sees it as a lifelong path… To the teenager who finds stability in its structure… …Taekwondo continues to offer something timeless.
And unlike many systems that grow rigid with age, Taekwondo has shown the capacity to adapt without losing soul.
Final Facts:
Over 80 million people practice Taekwondo worldwide.
It is an official Olympic sport since 2000 (Sydney Games).
Para-Taekwondo was added to the Paralympic Games in 2020.
The five tenets—Courtesy, Integrity, Perseverance, Self-Control, Indomitable Spirit—remain central in every legitimate curriculum.
Taekwondo is practiced in over 200 countries, with thousands of certified dojangs worldwide.
Opinion: Why Taekwondo Keeps Fascinating Me
Table of Contents
Rediscovering Taekwondo Again and Again
The First Kick—And the Second, and the Hundredth
I was 13 when I first saw someone perform a spinning hook kick. I can’t remember if it was at a demo, a class, or a YouTube video lost in algorithmic memory—but I remember the sound it made: a sharp exhale, a foot slicing air, and the solid slap of contact on a pad. That was it. I was hooked.
But Taekwondo doesn’t just fascinate me because it’s flashy. That’s a common misconception among people who’ve only watched it on TV. Yes, it’s known for its fast kicks and Olympic pedigree, but to reduce it to “just kicks” is like saying music is “just noise.”
Lena’s comment resonated with me. Taekwondo creeps into your spine and attitude. It makes you stand taller, not because you’ve learned to fight, but because you’ve learned discipline, control, and timing.
According to World Taekwondo’s official training guidelines, 70% of a standard beginner curriculum focuses not on combat, but on forms (poomsae), balance, and body awareness. Combat comes later—first you must know how to stand.
Beyond the Uniform: Taekwondo as a Lens
I’ve been training on and off for years. And what’s interesting is that Taekwondo doesn’t always fascinate me in the same way. At first, it was physical—the joy of movement, of kicking high and jumping far. Later, it became about the inner rhythm of the forms and their calm flow.
Now? Now I’m fascinated by how Taekwondo mirrors life.
Marco’s view matters because it challenges a narrow understanding of martial arts. He’s not a practitioner, but he finds meaning in the way Taekwondo helps others shape their identity.
And that’s the thing—Taekwondo is a system, not just of self-defense, but of self-exploration. It tells you things about your patience, about how you breathe, about what you do when you fail a test, or get hit, or realize your balance is off.
A 2022 survey from Kukkiwon (the official global Taekwondo headquarters in South Korea) found that over 60% of practitioners cited personal development—not combat or fitness—as their primary reason for continuing training after their first year.
The Quiet Things You Learn Without Realizing
Timing, Not Force
One of the biggest surprises for beginners is how little Taekwondo is about brute strength. If you watch Olympic matches, you’ll see light-footed movement, sharp explosive kicks, and often… a lot of waiting.
It’s the art of timing. And that’s what drew me back in after years of inconsistency. Life is all about timing. Whether you’re taking a job, ending a relationship, or choosing when to speak up.
Taekwondo is full of metaphors. You don’t rush the kick. You don’t chase power. You move when the opportunity is real.
This principle is central in the philosophy of Do, the “way” in Taekwondo. As the saying goes, “Taekwondo is 10% technique, 90% mindset.”
Control as the Real Power
There’s a common misunderstanding that martial arts are about learning how to hurt others. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
As an observer, Marco echoed something similar:
This aligns with Taekwondo’s five tenets: Courtesy, Integrity, Perseverance, Self-Control, and Indomitable Spirit. Each one isn’t just a classroom poster—they show up when it matters most: under pressure.
The Fascination of Tradition in a Modern Frame
Global but Deeply Personal
There’s a paradox I love about Taekwondo: it’s both hyper-global and deeply local. You can go to almost any country in the world and find a dojang. And yet, every school feels unique—different teachers, rituals, and ways of speaking.
As of 2024, Taekwondo is practiced in over 200 countries, with more than 80 million practitioners worldwide.
And yet, each student has a different story. A different reason for returning to class after a hard day.
For me, it’s a grounding mechanism. The structured bow-in ritual at the start of class. The white uniform that makes everyone equal. The stillness before movement.
Even the Korean terminology plays a role. Words like “Charyeot” (attention) or “Kyungnae” (bow) are more than commands—they reset the atmosphere.
He’s right. Taekwondo teaches you to value moments. To honor spaces, not just people.
Why the Fascination Doesn’t Fade
So why does Taekwondo keep fascinating me?
Because every time I think I’ve seen all it has to offer, it shows me something new. A new layer to a kick. A new dimension to a form. A new application of patience or humility or awareness.
It fascinates me because it teaches without words.
It fascinates me because it looks simple but isn’t.
It fascinates me because in a chaotic world, there’s a kind of quiet clarity when you’re barefoot on the mat, breathing in sync with others, aiming not to fight—but to grow.
Between Olympic Spotlight and Dojang Shadows
A Combat Sport or a Martial Art?
Taekwondo stands at a unique crossroads. On one hand, it’s a full-fledged Olympic sport, with strict point systems, weight divisions, and world rankings. On the other, it remains deeply rooted in centuries-old martial principles, often invisible to those who only catch the highlights on TV every four years.
Felix’s perspective isn’t rare. A growing number of martial arts fans have begun to appreciate the technical complexity and visual language of Taekwondo, especially when it’s done with purpose beyond medals.
But let’s not pretend the sport hasn’t struggled with its image. Critics say Olympic Taekwondo has become “point tag with feet,” emphasizing speed over power, and strategy over real-world application.
Yet those same critics miss a core truth: sport is only one branch of the Taekwondo tree.
According to Kukkiwon’s 2023 Global Curriculum Review, only about 20% of Taekwondo practitioners globally train for competition. The rest train for health, discipline, community, and self-defense.
Master Ji’s words hit differently when you realize how many people have quit after burnout in tournament circles. But those who stay for the art—the Do—find something more lasting.
Taekwondo in the Age of YouTube, TikTok, and UFC
Visibility, for Better and Worse
In the 90s and early 2000s, if you wanted to understand Taekwondo, you had to join a local club, or buy VHS tapes. Today, a 10-year-old can search “540 roundhouse” and learn from athletes across the globe in seconds.
Social media has brought Taekwondo into sharper public view. Demos, cinematic kicks, and viral fails—everything is shareable. But visibility doesn’t equal understanding.
He’s absolutely right. What you see online is often only the flash, not the foundation. Many viral athletes borrow from Taekwondo techniques but strip them of their original structure and purpose.
Still, some of the most positive shifts have come thanks to digital media.
Athletes like Jade Jones (UK), Hadi Saei (Iran), or Lee Dae-Hoon (South Korea) have inspired new generations not just with medals, but with stories of humility, sacrifice, and longevity.
The UFC Effect and Street Credibility
In recent years, questions have emerged: “Can Taekwondo work in MMA?” “Is it realistic in self-defense?” “Is it too stylized?”
It’s a fair debate. In MMA, where effectiveness is everything, Taekwondo isn’t the base art of choice. But it still finds its way into the octagon. Fighters like Anthony Pettis, Yair Rodríguez, and Stephen Thompson have used Taekwondo-based kicks to dramatic effect.
The point here isn’t that Taekwondo must prove itself through MMA. Rather, its techniques can be effective—when paired with range control, footwork, and adaptation.
And Taekwondo practitioners have begun to realize: realism comes not from copying other arts, but from evolving within their own logic.
Keeping the Spirit Alive in a Changing World
Modern Students, Ancient Values
Today’s young students face a chaotic world—fast, fragmented, digital. Taekwondo offers the opposite: stillness, ritual, linear progress. You wear your rank, you earn your form, you wait before you advance.
Author’s comment:
As someone who has trained across three different continents, I’ve seen how the culture of the school matters more than the country. A dojang that honors the core values of Taekwondo—respect, perseverance, humility—will produce strong individuals whether or not they ever compete.
In 2021, the World Taekwondo Peace Corps reported that over 8,000 instructors had served internationally to promote Taekwondo not just as a sport, but as a cultural and ethical education. This global mentorship is one of the least-publicized but most impactful branches of the art.
Diversity Within Uniformity
Another beautiful aspect of modern Taekwondo is its inclusiveness. From para-athletes to seniors to children with ADHD, the uniform fits all.
That line struck me. And it’s true. In no other environment have I seen such diversity flourish under such strict formality. Everyone bows. Everyone waits their turn. Everyone learns something different from the same drill.
And for many students, including myself, this is where the fascination deepens—not in the variety of kicks, but in the variety of people who find something meaningful in practicing them.
Summary and Lasting Lessons
Why the Fascination Endures
So let’s return to the original question: Why does Taekwondo keep fascinating me?
It’s not just the kicks, the rituals, or the nostalgia of childhood training. It’s because Taekwondo is a mirror. It changes as I change. It teaches more as I become more ready to listen.
From the combat sports fan who appreciates its angles and elegance…
To the master who sees it as a lifelong path…
To the teenager who finds stability in its structure…
…Taekwondo continues to offer something timeless.
And unlike many systems that grow rigid with age, Taekwondo has shown the capacity to adapt without losing soul.
Final Facts: