Higher Jiu Jitsu has been at this for over 12 years. That’s a long time to notice patterns.

When we started, we were young, passionate, and completely naive. Big or small, young or old, friendly or not – everyone was welcome. We thought jiu jitsu was for everyone, so we treated it that way.

For a while, that worked. People from all walks of life jumped on the mats with us and most of the time, it was great. We trained, we laughed, we figured things out together.

Then reality started showing up.

There was the guy from the neighbourhood who hadn’t showered in weeks. Didn’t want to grapple — wanted to box. “Mate, this is a grappling gym.” He moved on. Fine.

Then a group of women came in enthusiastic and excited. A few weeks later they’d stopped training but still showed up in their gis – sitting in the corner dissecting everyone in the room. Loudly. In front of everyone.

Then the backpackers. Full of MMA dreams, heading interstate to pick fruit in three days, and training like every roll was a title fight. Left a trail of broken noses and torqued arms through our beginner class without a second thought. They had a flight to catch. Not their problem.

In between all of that were the people who made this job worth doing. They came in with a smile. They respected the room. They wanted to learn, make friends, build something over time. On the drive home after coaching those people, I felt like the luckiest person alive. They were what this school was always supposed to be for.

And that’s when it became obvious.

Not everyone is the same. Not everyone wants the same thing from jiu jitsu. Some people fit what we’re building here – and some people don’t. Pretending otherwise doesn’t make you inclusive. It makes you naive, and it puts good people at risk.

We’ve had those conversations over the years. The ones you rehearse in your head beforehand and feel relieved about after. They’re never fun. But they’re necessary.

Here’s the reality: a school can only hold so many people, and more importantly, a culture can only absorb so much before it breaks. If you want a room where people feel safe to learn, you have to be deliberate about who’s in it.

Master Sauer told me once “John, hold your students like this” – open hands. And I carry that. We hold our students with open hands. But we also pay attention. Because every single person who walks through our doors is one or two bad injuries away from quitting jiu jitsu forever. They came here to build quality of life, not to get hurt. That’s not something I take lightly.

When your school is for everyday people – hobbyists, parents, professionals, people who just want to feel better in their bodies – you carry a responsibility. The room has to work for them. And that means the culture, the energy, and yes, the people in it all have to be pointed in the same direction.

So we welcome everyone. And then we pay attention. And we sort.

That’s how you build a culture worth belonging to.