I admired her healing journey before the movie.The number of times I sat with women (the park ranger, the martial artist, the cop, the welder, th
I admired her healing journey before the movie.
The number of times I sat with women (the park ranger, the martial artist, the cop, the welder, the construction manager, the professor, the school principal, the law maker, the minister, the business owner…) as judges minimized their testimony of being abused by their husbands because they were strong.
They were strong. But being “strong” isn’t a protective shield from an abusive male partner….or for that matter a female partner either. I served those strong women too.
Working within the system you get to see that it often has no idea what to do with strong women who face violence. Too often, it decides to blame her, shame her for not knowing better, doing more, belittles her, or mocks her. It treats her as a waste of time and a distraction from the alleged “perfect” victims. Which is strange because it isn’t exactly busy serving the “perfect” victims either.
(I firmly believe in courtroom etiquette but it takes strong muscles to keep your eyeballs from just rolling out of your head sometimes.)
So anyway, when I came across this prize fighter’s story, I was on the edge of my seat reading everything.
Why?
1. People refuse to act like they know that domestic violence happens to women who are strong in spirit. They pretend to assume such victims are “dumb” or “weak”. You can train, teach, and bring awareness to them but they just keep returning to the weird default setting like they aren’t acquainted with human beings or something.
2. I think that these unique lived experiences help many victims and Survivors to understand that it has nothing to do with who we are/were not, but how stuck on ignorance the world insists on being when it comes to abuse and violence. And humanity continues to pay for that, especially the innocent.
Christy Salters — known to the world as Christy Martin — broke barriers long before women’s boxing was widely accepted. In the 1990s, she burst onto the scene with explosive energy, fierce skill, and a signature pink uniform that symbolized both power and defiance. She became one of the first women boxers to appear on a major pay-per-view card, earning the respect of fans who once doubted that women could command the ring.
But her most devastating fight didn’t happen under bright lights. It happened behind closed doors.
For years, Christy endured abuse at the hands of the man who was also her trainer and husband. The world saw her strength, but not the violence she was surviving in silence. In 2010, that abuse nearly took her life when she was brutally attacked and shot.
Christy survived.
She fought back — not just for her own life, but for the lives of other women trapped in fear.
She became a powerful advocate for domestic violence awareness, speaking out with honesty and compassion about the dangers of silence and the courage it takes to escape.
Today, her story stands as a testament to resilience: a reminder that even the strongest warriors can be hurt — and that surviving does not make you weak. It makes you extraordinary.
Christy Salters didn’t just fight opponents in the ring.
She fought to live.
And she won.