March Newsletter

Hi Team. After hearing stories and myths about the humble martial art belt, I decided to do some digging around on the net and I have come up with some interesting reading, so grab a cuppa and have a read of this:

When most people think of martial arts, they picture a uniform and a belt and it’s usually a black one. It’s such a familiar image that they don’t realise how new and how interesting the belt system really is. For something that feels so “traditional,” the coloured belt is actually a modern invention with a surprising story behind it.

Belts are newer than you think

In the old days, traditional Japanese martial arts didn’t use belts to show rank at all. Progress was recorded with certificates or scrolls, not colour around your waist. The idea of using a visible ranking system only really took off in the late 1800s with Judo founder Jigoro Kano, and even then there were just two levels: white for students and black for advanced practitioners. 

So when you tie your belt, you’re not putting on something ancient from thousands of years ago. You’re actually wearing a clever teaching tool from a little over a century ago.

How we ended up with a rainbow of colours

The long run of colours between white and black came later, and largely for motivation. When Judo spread to Europe, teacher Mikonosuke Kawaishi began using extra colours like yellow, orange, green, blue and purple to mark smaller steps for his French students in the 1930s. It made progress visible and kept people engaged.

Karate’s early pioneers, including Gichin Funakoshi, eventually adopted a similar graded system, and from there it spread into many other striking arts around the world. What started as a simple “beginner and advanced” idea grew into a full ladder of colours that you see in dojangs and dojos today.

Myths, legends, and “deadly weapons”

Because belts became so iconic, plenty of myths grew up around them.
One of the most common stories is that belts used to start white and gradually turned black from years of sweat, dirt and blood. It’s a great story for a movie, but there is no real evidence for it. It simply seems to be a romantic legend, not a documented fact.

Another favourite myth is that black belts must “register their hands as deadly weapons.” This seems to have grown out of old boxing publicity and post-war confusion about martial arts rules, not from any actual legal requirement. Still, it lives on in jokes, movies and the occasional tall tale told on the sidelines.

From practical clothing to symbol of progress

Before belts meant rank, they were just belts. The original obi was simply a cloth wrap used to keep a kimono closed and to carry swords or equipment. Kano’s early black belts were basically these obi worn by higher-level practitioners, long before the standard narrow cotton belt became common.

Over time, that simple strip of cloth picked up a huge amount of meaning: effort, consistency, patience, and trust. The belt became a visible reminder that progress in martial arts is earned, not given.

Beyond the black belt

Many people still think black belt is “the end,” but in most systems, including Choi Kwang Do, it’s really the beginning of serious study. Judo and karate both formalised multiple black belt levels (dan grades), often up to ten, on top of a set of coloured student grades (kyu). Some traditional organisations then add separate titles like renshi, kyoshi and hanshi to recognise very senior teachers.

So when someone earns a black belt, it’s less like finishing secondary school and more like getting accepted into university.

What this means for us.

For us in Choi Kwang Do, the belt is not just a status symbol or something to chase. Grandmaster Choi has chosen it to be a teaching system. It gives students clear, achievable steps. It tells a story of where you’ve been, where you are, and where you’re going next.

Every time you tie your belt in class, you’re putting on more than a colour. You’re putting on a piece of martial arts history, a tool designed to keep you motivated, and a reminder that real progress comes from consistent effort over time and not from myths, shortcuts or “deadly weapon” legends.