Kia Abdullah never imagined she would find herself in a boxing gym—let alone find liberation there. On the surface, she’s sociable and self-assured, not someone most would associate with buried anger. But beneath her composed exterior lay nearly two decades of repressed fury, rooted in a childhood shaped by rigid cultural restrictions and a short-lived arranged marriage that left a long-lasting emotional toll.
Born to Bangladeshi immigrant parents in the UK, Abdullah grew up under strict conservatism that dictated every aspect of her life—from her clothing to her thoughts. Her path to independence was not easily won. She had to fight just to go to university, battling against traditions that granted freedoms to her male peers as birthrights but denied them to her as a daughter. Her frustration simmered for years, intensifying after she was pressured into a marriage at 24 that lasted mere days. The consequences, however, lingered for decades.
She had not truly acknowledged her inner turmoil until a conversation with a relationship expert casually referred to her union as a “forced marriage.” That simple rephrasing jolted her into realizing the depth of her anger—an anger that had manifested subtly through irritability with her mother, emotional walls in relationships, and a determination never to rely on anyone financially.
Therapy, while considered, felt incompatible with her cultural framework. She resigned herself to the belief that anger would be a permanent companion—until the spring of 2023, when she stepped into Mickey’s Boxing Gym in East London. It began as research for a novel. She wanted to depict boxing accurately and agreed to two one-on-one sessions. She had never boxed before, never even set foot in a gym, and felt completely out of place. But that changed the moment she was told to “hit harder.”
Under the guidance of coach Mickey Cunningham, she was introduced to the basics—jab, cross, hook—practiced in three-minute rounds. But it was during a pad session that something cracked open inside her. As Mickey shouted, “Harder!” she punched with all her strength. “Let me hear you!” he demanded. And she did—emitting a raw, guttural cry she had never allowed herself before. In that moment, everything she had been taught about being quiet, graceful, and obedient was obliterated. She was fierce. She was angry. And she was free.
The three minutes that followed were life-altering. With each blow, she shed the emotional weight she had carried for years. When the bell rang, she collapsed against the ropes, euphoric and tearful. Something had shifted permanently. “I think I’ve finally found my sport,” she told her partner afterward. What began as two research sessions turned into two years of regular training, with three to four sessions a week and countless rounds of sparring.
Today, boxing has become more than a sport for Abdullah—it’s a sanctuary. It has made her calmer, more patient, and more at peace. She no longer dreads time with her mother; instead, the gym has become her way to reset and recharge. It has given her the emotional balance she had long been missing.
The men at her gym often ask if she plans to fight competitively. She smiles and says she boxes for fun. What she doesn’t say is that she’s already fought—and won—the most important battle of her life.