I Was Bullied So Badly, I Considered Killing Myself

Many years before I was a world class professional fighter, I was just a kid who didn’t fit in — and that made me a prime target.

By Uriah Hall (as told to Jamie O’Grady)

I was 14 years old and my life was over. At least, I wanted it to be.

You see me now on television, striking people in the face or kicking them in the head. I’m one of the best middleweights in the UFC, the biggest MMA organization on the planet. And it all almost never happened. None of it.

Sixteen years ago, I had given up. I didn’t want to continue with my life. I wanted it all to end, and I came very close to making sure it would. I don’t speak of it often — mostly because the man I am today has changed so much from the boy who thought so little of himself — but I hope by sharing my story, it will empower others to stand up for themselves, to believe in their abilities and their worth, and to realize how important they are.

I moved from the Caribbean nation of Jamaica to Queens, New York, when I was 13. Compared to everyone else I met, everything about me was different when I came to the United States. How I dressed. How I acted. My accent. My skin color. And when you’re different, people are scared of you. I realize now, many years later, that it was others’ own insecurity that created their fear, but back then, I felt like it was my weakness, not theirs.

Almost immediately after we arrived, the torment began.

Long before more than a million people watched a YouTube video of me knocking a guy out with a kick, I was a victim of systematic and severe bullying. It didn’t matter that my mother came to this country in search of a better life for our family; those who tormented me couldn’t have cared less. Their fear, their hatred, their ignorance, their complete and utter lack of humanity overshadowed any chance I would have (or so I thought) at experiencing the American Dream, like so many immigrants had before me.

Over time, the bullying became so aggressive and was so relentless, I got to the point where I simply did not want to go to school anymore. I started cutting class, and lying to my mom about where I had been. I fell behind, and when the overwhelming guilt and shame finally would motivate me to go back to school, I would find myself hopelessly lost and too far behind to make sense of the classwork.

Avoiding the bullying was the only thing I cared about. There were days where I literally could not get out of bed in the morning because of the fear inside me. Eventually, as things got worse, I began to have violent thoughts. I considered hurting other people, which, despite my current profession, is not something that is in my nature.

Finally, I considered suicide. And though the details of my half-hearted attempt are not important, what does matter is that I was so desperate, so despondent, and felt so totally alone, I actually took steps to end my own life. That’s how bad the bullying was.

To this day, the emotional scars of my youth are still there, and they certainly will be there, under the surface, when I step into the octagon against Rafael Natal at UFC 187 Saturday night in Las Vegas.

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.

So what comes next? That’s easy. Win the next exchange, the next round, the next fight.

Eventually, I want another crack at Chris Weidman. He’s the champ, and he’s fighting this weekend, too; in the co-main event against Vitor Belfort. Weidman was the guy who handed me my first loss, five years ago at a small show in New Jersey. More importantly, he was the first guy who caused me to experience fear since the days when I was bullied as a teenager.

MMA doesn’t discriminate. Sooner or later, nearly everyone is going to get their ass kicked. Against Chris, it happened to me, when I allowed fear to take over and distract me from the task at hand. I know now that fear is just an illusion. What matters is how you handle it.

Yes, to some extent, I’m still that same immigrant kid who was bullied back in Queens and wanted to give up on life, but there’s a big difference between the fear I felt as a boy and the fear all professional fighters experience. (Though, if I could go back in time, I’d tell the 14-year-old version of me to knock the shit out of those bullies.) If and when it’s in the cards, I’ll be ready to get back in the cage with Weidman — maybe at the end of the year at the UFC’s first event in Madison Square Garden, not far from those streets where I grew up. We’ll see.

Someday, when I’m done with fighting, I hope to change the world in my own small way. Until then, if I can use my platform As a UFC fighter to bring about positive change in any way, I’ll be happy with that. Just know that I’m not just the guy you see on TV or in highlight videos. There’s a lot more to me than knockouts, and I probably won’t be the guy you expect me to be, either.

It’s taken a lifetime to learn, but I know now that none of us has to apologize for who we are, and none of us has to accept others treating us with anything less than the respect we deserve. It doesn’t matter if you’re smaller, weaker, or look different than anyone else. It’s OK to be afraid, but never, ever believe that hurting yourself or others is the answer.

Instead, talk to your family. Tell a friend or teacher. And if you find yourself with no other options when it comes to being bullied, give me a shout. I’m pretty sure no one will mess with you if they know I’ve got your back.