Homeless to Half-Guard
From Homelessness to Half-Guard: How BJJ Gave Me—and Now Others—a Fighting Chance
In 2020, the world turned upside down. The pandemic shuttered generational small businesses, claimed countless lives, and fractured our nation's unity amid unprecedented fragility. That same year upended my world too—but for reasons that cut even deeper.
My wife, a registered nurse serving the homeless, fell seriously ill and needed three surgeries—for Chiari malformation, spinal fusion, and cord detethering. It triggered a cascade of crises that dragged us to the brink of despair. We lost her income overnight. Living in a spacious 3,500-square-foot, five-bedroom home suddenly became impossible. Rental assistance kept eviction at bay for just six months, but our lease ran another ten. We lost 80% of our belongings in the scramble and ended up homeless, with rental history slamming every door.
Then 2021 piled on: both my parents and my wife's stepfather gone within six months.
Climbing Out Through BJJ
As we clawed our way back, I landed a Retail Crime Investigator role at a new company. One night, a homeless man assaulted me. Defense became urgent, so I walked into Fargo Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu Academy and started training. But with our finances in ruins, class fees loomed large.
Professors George and Sarah Andersch saw my struggle. They pulled me aside and offered a lifeline: a job as custodian, assistant coach, and photographer—with classes comped. They didn't have to. People quit BJJ all the time. Estimates show:
70–90% of starters quit before blue belt.
~50% of blue belts drop before purple.
Just 1–3% reach black belt—meaning 97–99% exit the path entirely.
I didn't quit. On July 10, 2025, I earned my blue belt. Now I coach six kids' classes weekly, two adult classes, and train 4–6 more hours. Their grace changed me. I vowed to pass it forward.
How BJJ Rewires You
BJJ doesn't just teach technique—it forges resilience. Regular training boosts confidence, emotional regulation, and mood. Studies confirm most practitioners report less anxiety and greater mental flexibility. Constant "losing" on the mats trains calm under pressure, turning setbacks into data for work, relationships, and life.
No study needed for me: BJJ saved my mental health, my marriage, my life. It pulled a bitter, depressed, angry man from the vortex.
Fighting Chance Initiative: Paying the Gift Forward
That's why Fighting Chance Initiative exists—and why it's so deeply personal for me. We provide 6-month BJJ scholarships to underserved youth facing poverty or homelessness. If mats transformed me, imagine what they can do for kids trapped in cycles like the one I escaped.
Resilience starts on the mats. Sponsor a scholarship, volunteer, or share this story. Link in bio. Together, we keep the chance alive.
Tim Boyle, Blue Belt & FCI Founder
Fargo BJJ Academy Assistant Coach | IBJJF World Masters Competitor
Wacantognaka
the Lakota virtue of profound generosity
Wacantognaka: Honoring the Lakota Heart of Giving in Our Work
Wacantognaka—the Lakota way of generosity—teaches that true strength flows from open hands, where every gift shared strengthens the entire circle of life. I am inspired by this profound Lakota virtue, approaching it with deep respect, drawing from publicly shared teachings to reflect how it echoes in my own life and work at Fighting Chance Initiative. In Lakota tradition, this isn't about having much to give; it's about recognizing that what we receive must move forward, lifting others as we were once lifted.
The Heart of Wacantognaka
Deep in Lakota wisdom, Wacantognaka calls us to contribute freely—to share not just possessions, but time, compassion, knowledge, and spirit—for the wellbeing of all people and creation. It's one of the Seven Sacred Virtues, a living promise that no one thrives alone; generosity creates abundance by ensuring the flow never stops. When we give without tallying the cost, we align with something greater—a sacred rhythm where the giver is healed as much as the receiver.
Gifts That Carried Us Through Darkness
The blow of my wife's disability plunged us into a storm of uncertainty, followed by two months of homelessness that shook our family to its core. Friends stepped in then—not with fanfare, but with quiet gifts of shelter, food, and unwavering belief that pulled us back to solid ground. Those moments embodied the spirit of Wacantognaka I've learned about: raw acts of giving that whispered, "You belong; we rise together." Receiving them didn't close a chapter—it ignited one, transforming personal rescue into a fire to warm the next generation facing their own shadows.
Resilience Born on the Mats
Fighting Chance Initiative channels that same generous spirit into Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu scholarships for Fargo's underprivileged youth, ages 6 to 18. Our motto captures it perfectly: "Resilience Starts On The Mats." Here, amid the sweat and struggle of guard passes and escapes, kids discover structure they might never find elsewhere—critical thinking sharpened by problem-solving under pressure, self-confidence forged in small victories, and the unshakeable belonging of a community that sees their potential. Wacantognaka shines through every coach sharing technique freely, every peer celebrating a hard-won tap, turning individual hardship into collective triumph.
A Circle That Never Breaks
Lakota elders teach that children must witness and live Wacantognaka young, so they grow not as takers, but as fierce protectors of their people—givers who break chains of poverty and poor choices before they tighten. On our mats, this unfolds daily: at-risk youth who could drift toward peer pressure or cycles of struggle instead build discipline that radiates outward, carrying the gifts they've received into their own families and futures. It's proof of the philosophy's power—the original kindness to my family now multiplies through dozens of young lives, each one a spark in an endless circle of shared strength.
Wacantognaka reminds us that generosity isn't measured in dollars or hours, but in the quiet miracles of lives redirected. Through Fighting Chance Initiative, the gifts keep moving—across mats, across hearts, across generations—proving that when we give from the depths, resilience doesn't just start; it endures.
A Shocking Encounter
It All Begins Here
From the front lines of loss prevention at a busy grocery store, I learned a harsh truth: we're built for catch-and-release, not cures. Recidivism rates among youth offenders hover at 50-67% within a year of release, turning every bust into a temporary fix.
The Encounter
Shift to the cosmetics aisle on a slow Tuesday evening: two girls, no older than 10, standing face-to-face with me just feet away, methodically stuffing over $500 worth of high-end makeup, lotions, and random beauty items into their oversized backpacks—products utterly irrelevant to any kid their age, who might grab candy or gum at most. Their small hands trembled slightly as they crammed in lip gloss and face creams, but their faces held no excitement or rebellion, just grim focus, like they were clocking in for a chore. Eyes darting not from guilt but calculation, they whispered coordinates to each other, oblivious or indifferent to my presence until I stepped forward. It hit me immediately: this wasn't kid curiosity—these were pint-sized mules, dispatched by desperate parents banking on their youth for leniency, planning to flip the haul for cash to cover rent, drugs, or whatever kept the family afloat. Over one particularlyintense 4-month period during my tenure as Lead Investigator, I personally stopped over 80 shoplifters, nearly half juveniles in similar scenarios—entire families rotating kids through our doors like a grim assembly line, always returning bolder, because soft consequences meant zero deterrence. Law enforcement had bigger fish to fry with violent crimes and major trafficking rings, so these small-scale juvenile cases often looped right back to us.
The Recidivism Reality
Studies confirm it: reactive policing and loss prevention displace crime, not deter it long-term. Youth rearrests spike because tagging, guards, and arrests don't touch root causes—poverty cycles, absent structure, zero fear of soft consequences. Kids adapt faster than we secure shelves; parents exploit the revolving door. High recidivism proves we're enabling, not ending, the loop.
Fighting Chance Initiative: The Real Fix
That's why I founded Fighting Chance Initiative—proactive intervention before the first theft. "Resilience Starts On The Mats." We fund 6-month BJJ scholarships ($129/month/child) for at-risk kids, delivering structure, critical thinking from positional chess on the mat, self-confidence from taps and escapes, and problem-solving under pressure. Early martial arts programs cut antisocial behavior 40-60%, breaking poverty's grip and peer pressure by building mentors and safe peers young—preventing crime, not chasing it. Donate today: turn potential thieves into champions