 When I was 25, I applied for a position called Plans and Programs Manager at my Air Force law enforcement unit. My wife was pregnant with our first daughter, and the position offered more stability, expanded responsibilities, and a new avenue for professional growth. It wasn’t just a promotion, it was an opportunity to provide more for my growing family.
The role wasn’t easy to get. It required the endorsement of senior base leadership, and there were concerns about my rank and experience. But my superintendent, who would later become my direct supervisor, stood up for me. He made the case that I was the best person for the job. Thanks to his advocacy, I got the position. About six months later, I found myself in charge of preparing our base’s resource protection plan for a major inspection. It was a massive responsibility involving every agency on base. Right in the middle of the chaos, my wife went into labor. After the delivery, I checked on my family and returned to work, not sure what would happen next. When my superintendent saw me, he didn’t ask for an update or press me about deadlines. Instead, he asked how my family was and then told me to hand him everything I’d worked on; he’d finish the plan himself so I could go home and be with my family. That kind of leadership stays with you. I didn’t take the time off. Instead, I worked while my family slept. I finished the plan, and our base passed its inspection with flying colors. I didn’t do it because I had to. I did it because I didn’t want to let him down. That’s the power of referent leadership: the ability to influence and inspire through respect, character, and genuine care. It’s the kind of leadership that earns loyalty without demanding it. My superintendent didn’t just lead us, he believed in us. And I’ve tried to lead the same way ever since. Maybe it wasn’t just that I didn’t want to let him down. Maybe it was that he never wanted to let me down either. The Leadership Lessons:
Would you follow your leader because you have to, or because you want to? That answer tells you everything about the kind of culture you’re building.
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 Many years ago, while stationed at Columbus Air Force Base, I found myself in a situation that tested my integrity, responsibility, and belief in fairness. I was 24 years old, a young Airman, and a single guardian raising my younger brother Chris, who was just 10 at the time. Balancing work and parenting wasn’t easy, but I managed it with discipline, and a carefully structured schedule.
I worked the day shift in Air Force law enforcement operations, holding a “critical position” as a Desk Sergeant, something akin to being both dispatcher and station lead. My schedule, though unconventional, allowed me to care for Chris and limit childcare to weekends. It wasn’t just convenient: it was essential. Then I was late. Twice in a month. Not egregiously late, just didn’t arrive the 30 minutes early that was custom for the role. A courtesy I normally upheld. But the second time, the shift sergeant told my colleague not to call me, a common practice when someone was running behind. Why? He didn’t like me, and this was his opportunity to push me off the day shift, a move that would have deeply impacted my family life and finances. A few days later, I was summoned by the unit superintendent. Calmly and respectfully, I owned up to my mistakes. I explained what happened, not to make excuses, but to provide context. I told him I’d accept whatever discipline he deemed appropriate, but asked only to be treated fairly. “If being late twice in a critical position is grounds for reassignment,” I said, “then the same should apply to my supervisor who’s been late four times, and to our armorer, who’s been late seven.” He leaned back, nodded, and simply said, “You’re right.” And then he added something I’ll never forget: “Watch yourself. Being right sometimes comes with consequences.” He kept me on the day shift, but warned that others may look for reasons to push back. I took the lesson to heart. Leadership and Life Lessons Here’s what this moment taught me, and could teach any leader: 🔹 1. Accountability earns trust. I didn’t deny my mistakes. I owned them without defensiveness. That shows maturity and self-awareness, traits every leader should model and recognize. 🔹 2. Fairness matters more than favoritism. I didn’t ask for special treatment, I asked for consistent standards. That distinction revealed both character and conviction. 🔹 3. A leader’s bias can shape, or sabotage an organization. Whether it’s personality conflicts, unspoken grudges, or unexamined bias, a leader must recognize how their perceptions influence their actions. If not checked, it can cost the team good people and integrity. 🔹 4. Courage means standing your ground…respectfully. Speaking truth to power isn’t about being loud or combative. It’s about being calm, honest, and willing to accept the outcome. That earns real respect. 🔹 5. Great leaders listen, even when it’s inconvenient. The superintendent didn’t just hear me, he listened. He evaluated facts over feelings and responded with fairness. That moment strengthened my respect for him and my commitment to our unit. Some lessons stay with you for a lifetime, not because of how loud the moment was, but because of how quietly it tested your core. This was one of those.  Summertime is notoriously slow for martial arts schools. Vacations, camps, and family travel take priority, and that shows in our class attendance. This past Friday was no different, only one adult showed up for class. That adult was Mike. Mike’s a middle-aged, retired school teacher who stands about 6’4” and weighs well over 250 pounds. He joined our academy a few years ago after some of our black belts encouraged him to start training as a way to get in better shape. At the time, his doctors had already told him he needed both knees replaced. But he showed up anyway, and kept showing up. Mike earned his black belt in December 2024. A month later, in January 2025, he had his left knee replaced, and just a couple months later, he was back in class. I told him after his test that he was one of the most inspiring students I’ve ever taught, and I meant that. He never asked for special treatment. We made a few modifications here and there, but only what was absolutely necessary. He didn’t want concessions, he wanted to earn it. There were rare days when he’d text me and say he needed to rest, but for the most part, he was in class. Training. Pushing. Showing up. That brings me back to this past Friday. Mike was the only one in class, for the second week in a row. The week before, we worked on focus mitts. But this time, I decided to push him a bit harder. We drilled kickboxing combos, then I put him through a 100-kick workout on the heavy bag. And let me tell you, he gave it everything he had. Power, speed, height, he delivered it all, even with one replaced knee and another still needing surgery. Disclaimer: To Mike’s wife and his ortho doctor, don’t worry, we kept it safe. Everything was controlled, and I checked on him constantly like a helicopter coach with a liability form in my back pocket. And as I stood there calling out numbers and watching him push through each rep, I found myself thinking: What drives someone like this? There’s no medal at the end. No crowd cheering. No ranking points. Just the quiet satisfaction of doing something difficult, and doing it well. Mike isn’t trying to impress anyone. He’s not chasing likes or approval. He’s simply trying to be better than he was yesterday. That kind of mindset doesn’t come from physical ability, it comes from mental fortitude. And it’s that mindset that keeps him moving when most people would sit still. If I ever had to go to war, Mike is the kind of person I’d want by my side. Not because he’s the fastest or the most technical, but because he won’t quit. Not when it gets hard. Not when he’s tired. Not when no one else shows up. And that’s the kind of person every organization needs. Life and Leadership Lessons from Mike’s Story
Whether in martial arts or any professional team, it’s not the loudest person or the flashiest resume that makes the biggest difference. It’s the one who shows up when no one’s watching, and refuses to back down when things get hard. Mike is that person. And your organization is better when you have people like him, not just for what they do, but for what they make possible in others.   On March 22, 2023, I lost my little brother, Chris. “Little” is relative, he stood nearly 6 foot 2, while I’m 5 foot 8 on a good day. He passed away at just 38 years old from a rare blood disorder inherited from our parents. Since then, I’ve found myself noticing the world around me a little more. I’ve been doing what loss demands of us…reflecting.
One of the things I keep hearing in my head is something Chris used to say often: “Give me my flowers while I’m here.” It’s a phrase many have heard. We usually take it to mean, “Show love and appreciation before it’s too late.” I used to think that too. But after losing Chris, I see it differently. Giving flowers isn’t just about avoiding regret after someone passes. It’s about how we lead, how we parent, how we show up. A person doesn’t have to die for this to matter; sometimes, they just need someone to see them. When a child receives love and recognition, they grow up knowing they matter. That emotional security becomes their armor against self-doubt and anxiety. When a stay-at-home mom is affirmed, it reminds her that what she does is not invisible. She’s not “just” a mom, she’s a cornerstone. When a father is appreciated, he’s reminded that his sacrifices mean something. He’s not just a paycheck. He’s a protector, a provider, and a source of strength. When an employee is recognized consistently, not just during exit interviews, it builds a culture of loyalty, morale, and leadership. It helps people stay connected to purpose. As a martial artist, an Air Force leader, and a teacher of leadership, I’ve seen this truth repeat itself: people don’t need perfection, they need to feel seen. Too often, we wait until the funeral, the resignation letter, or the broken relationship to offer the praise, love, and gratitude we should’ve given long before. Leadership isn’t just about strategy, it’s about humanity. That’s why I had Chris’s words permanently inscribed on the inside of my left arm, in his handwriting, surrounding a lotus flower drawn by my daughter, Payton. His message now sits close to my heart, always. A daily reminder to lead with love, and never wait to show it. So here’s the challenge I’m embracing and offering: Give your flowers now. To your kids. To your partner. To your teammates. To your mentors and your students. Tell them what they mean to you while they’re still around to hear it. We’re all carrying burdens. A few flowers could be the thing that keeps someone going.  In every organization, there are those few people who seem to carry more than their fair share. When a major stakeholder visit is on the horizon, a project deadline is looming, or the team needs someone to “make it happen,” these individuals are the ones who get tapped on the shoulder. Again and again. At first glance, it may seem like they’re being taken advantage of. But if you zoom out, you realize something much deeper is happening. It’s a signal of trust. A sign of capability. A quiet acknowledgment from leadership that this person gets results. I didn’t fully appreciate this dynamic until I served as one of four superintendents at a leadership academy in Florida. The academy operated as a fully accredited college, serving 1,300 students annually through 260 clock hours of intense leadership and management education, delivered in just six and a half weeks. It’s a high-demand environment by any standard. The structure mirrored that of a traditional college, with a commandant (college president), director of education (dean), director of operations (campus director), four superintendents (department heads), and a team of instructors. Each superintendent had major responsibilities and supervised several classroom instructors. But over time, I noticed a pattern. Whenever the director of education or operations was out, the commandant would ask me, out of all four superintendents, to step in and serve as interim director. Every time. Despite my own workload, he consistently trusted me to carry more when needed. At the time, I didn’t think much of it; I had become used to this kind of responsibility throughout my career. But being in that environment, surrounded by leadership professionals, I began to view it through a more strategic lens, one grounded in organizational development. My colleagues weren’t incompetent. They were highly capable professionals. But something in the way I worked must have demonstrated to the commandant that I could be trusted, not only to get the job done, but to do it with excellence, without compromising my primary responsibilities. I had built a reputation of reliability. And reliability becomes opportunity. Here’s the leadership truth: not everyone steps up in the same way. And not everyone is asked to. But those who consistently take ownership, solve problems, and perform under pressure often become the go-to leaders, even before they ever wear the title. As leaders, it’s our job to spot those individuals early, develop them, and challenge them. But we can’t stop there. We also have a duty to develop everyone under our charge to the full extent of their potential. Not all will rise to senior leadership, but they should rise as high as they’re capable of going. That’s our responsibility as leaders. But the responsibility doesn’t rest solely on the shoulders of leadership. If you’re never tapped to lead a project, to represent your team, or to brief stakeholders, you need to ask yourself why. You have just as much responsibility in your own development. We don’t rise by default; we rise by choice and by action. In leadership, and in life, potential isn’t promised. It’s earned. And it’s revealed through consistent action. The Leadership and Life Lessons 1. Being asked repeatedly to lead isn’t punishment, it’s confirmation that you’ve earned trust. High performers are leaned on for a reason. Don’t confuse trust with burden. 2. Leadership roles are often given to those who already act like leaders, even without the title. Showing up, following through, and owning outcomes speaks louder than ambition alone. 3. Reliability is a leader’s currency. The more you demonstrate that you can be counted on, the more doors will open for you. That’s true at every level. 4. A leader’s job is twofold: develop high-potential individuals and raise the floor for everyone else. It’s not enough to focus on your stars; true leadership is measured by how far you bring the whole team. 5. Growth is mutual. Leaders must be committed to developing their teams, and individuals must be committed to earning their growth. No one is owed a promotion or title; they’re earned through consistent effort and readiness. 6. If you’re not being tapped to lead, it may be time to reflect, not deflect. Instead of blaming others, ask what you can do to demonstrate that you’re ready for more responsibility. 7. Your potential is a ceiling you choose to push. Don’t settle. Strive to reach the highest version of yourself…not the most convenient one.   Early in my career as a young supervisor in the Air Force, I was handed a challenge that would shape how I viewed leadership from that day forward. It wasn’t a tactical issue. It wasn’t mission-related. It was personal. And it was complicated.
One of my Airmen had gotten himself deep into financial trouble. Before he was married, he was balancing over twenty credit cards and department store accounts. It sounds crazy, but he had it under control, until marriage added another layer of expenses and spending. Things spiraled. Fast. By the time he came to me, the debt had taken over his life. In the military, financial irresponsibility is a serious offense. I had already seen the consequences firsthand; my very first supervisor had been discharged because of debt. So I knew what was at stake. But I also knew this young Airman had potential. So instead of writing him off, I sat down with him. We got him into the financial management program, started closing credit accounts, and created a plan. It wasn’t quick, but it was working. Then something unexpected happened; he received assignment orders to Hawaii. Now normally, that kind of news would call for a celebration. But with the cost of living in Hawaii and the state of his finances, I knew this wasn’t a reward; it was a trap. Sending him there would have put him right back into survival mode. Worse, it could’ve meant the end of his military career. So I did my homework. I discovered that under the right circumstances, a unit commander could cancel an assignment. The report date was still nearly a year away, so we had time, but I needed support. Not long after, I was called into a meeting with our unit commander and superintendent. They wanted to talk about my subordinate’s situation, and more importantly, what I planned to do about it. I laid it all out: the progress we’d made, the steps taken, and the harsh financial reality of living in Hawaii. Then I said something I knew might not be popular: “If we send him, he won’t make it. And we’ll be handing another unit a problem that started with us. Let us finish what we started; cancel the assignment and give him a real chance to recover.” And here’s the part of the story that still sticks with me: they listened. Despite my rank and limited time as a supervisor, the commander and superintendent heard me out. They didn’t dismiss my voice because of my position; they respected it because I brought a thoughtful, people-first solution to the table. And in the end, they acted on my recommendation. The assignment was cancelled, and the Airman stayed under our wing. Now, he wasn’t happy about it. In fact, he was downright angry. He thought I’d sabotaged a dream assignment. But I wasn’t trying to take anything from him. I was trying to protect his future; even if he couldn’t see it in the moment. The Leadership Lessons There are a few lessons in this story that I still carry with me, and that I try to pass on to the leaders I train today: 1. Leadership means doing what’s right…not what’s popular. There will be times when leading your people means telling them “no,” or redirecting them from something they want. If it’s not good for them, your job isn’t to agree…it’s to lead. 2. True leadership requires long-term thinking. Had we sent him to Hawaii, the short-term excitement would’ve come at the expense of long-term damage. I wasn’t focused on making him happy in the moment; I was focused on protecting his future. 3. Good leaders don’t just make decisions…they listen first. What our commander and superintendent did that day was a powerful lesson. They invited a young, relatively inexperienced supervisor into the room, not to report, but to be heard. And then they acted on what I shared. That kind of trust builds stronger teams, and smarter decisions. Not every leadership decision ends in applause. Some end in frustration, confusion, or even resentment, at least for a time. But real leadership isn’t about being liked. It’s about doing what’s right, even when it’s hard. And sometimes, it’s about being the only one in the room willing to say what no one else wants to hear, because the people you lead are counting on you to protect what they can’t yet see.  Several years ago, I was serving as one of four department superintendents at the second largest leadership academy in the U.S. Air Force. The academy was a critical stepping stone for both military and civilian mid-level managers; mandatory before they could take on senior leadership roles. Over 1,300 students passed through our doors every year, enduring an intense 6½ week program that ran eight hours a day, Monday through Friday. One evening, I was at the retirement party for one of the other superintendents, Tim. His department was the largest at the academy. It had already been announced that I would be stepping into his role; a rare move, since most superintendents stayed in their departments until they either retired or were reassigned. As I stood there talking with a few instructors from Tim’s department, Heather, one of the instructors, laughed and said, ”You know you’re going to have some big shoes to fill.” She wasn’t wrong. Tim was an incredible leader, and over the years we’d become close friends, moving up from classroom instructors to superintendents together. About six months into my new role, Heather and I had a conversation about her career goals. She told me she hoped to one day become a superintendent herself, then eventually return to her medical career field and make Chief Master Sergeant, the highest enlisted rank in the Air Force. A few days later, her words still stuck with me. So I did some research, found a college program that would allow her to continue her education, and put together a simple plan outlining how she could achieve her goals. Then I printed everything off and quietly left it on her chair. The degree wasn’t mandatory, but it would dramatically increase her chances. Fast forward a couple of years to my own retirement ceremony. After the formalities, I found a quiet corner to read through the stack of cards I’d received. Each was filled with heartfelt messages. But it was Heather’s card that hit me the hardest. She wrote: “Remember when I told you you’d have big shoes to fill? Well, you did that and more. No supervisor I’ve ever had took the time to research and lay out a plan for my career the way you did.” After I retired, Heather went on to become a superintendent at the academy and ultimately achieved her dream of becoming a Chief Master Sergeant. The Leadership Lesson Leadership isn’t about titles. It’s about helping those around us become more than they ever thought they could be on their own. It’s not enough to simply hear people’s goals, we have to truly listen, understand what drives them, and then take deliberate action to help them get there. That might mean opening a door they didn’t know existed, or laying out a path they couldn’t yet see for themselves. That’s how you fill the big shoes: not by chasing accolades for yourself, but by investing in others so deeply that when you step aside, they’re ready to step up: stronger, more capable, and more confident than ever. In the end, that’s the real measure of leadership: what you leave behind in the hearts and futures of the people you’ve helped grow.   A couple of days ago, I found myself talking with one of our dojo parents. She shared that she’d recently left her job after running headfirst into her organization’s shaky approach to performance evaluations. It only took a few questions for me to see the real issue: their system was missing some critical components that every solid performance management process needs.
It reminded me of a class I once taught on performance management. I explained to the group that while feedback can, and should, happen anytime, there are three essential points where it must happen:
During that class, one of the students shared that she had recently completed an evaluation on one of her team members. Their rating system ran from 1 to 5, with 5 being the highest. I asked if she had used the three-step process I’d just laid out. She said she had. So I asked, “What rating did your employee get?” She said, “A 4.” I followed up: “Did she not meet the expectations you set at the start?” “Oh, she met the expectations,” the student said, “but I felt she needed to do more to get a 5.” Then I asked the question that cut to the heart of the issue: “How much more?” That’s when it all clicked. If we as leaders keep moving the line, or never clearly draw one in the first place, how can someone ever know how well they’re doing? This doesn’t just create confusion. It breeds frustration, burnout, and can drive good people right out the door…like the mom who’d sparked this entire conversation. As we talked through this, I saw the weight of realization hit her. Tears welled up in her eyes. She thought she was pushing her team member to grow. But in reality, she had unwittingly hurt her career by giving her a rating that could limit her advancement, despite meeting every expectation set. This is where the facilitation side of my teaching style matters. We paused the session to give everyone a moment to process. Leadership isn’t just theory, it’s personal, and it impacts real people. Right then and there, she picked up the phone, called her team member, and apologized. That was growth in action: recognizing a misstep, taking responsibility, and making it right. The Leadership Lessons
At the end of the day, leadership isn’t about keeping people guessing; it’s about giving them a clear path to succeed, grow, and trust you enough to follow. Draw the line. Communicate it. Then stand by it. That’s how you build teams, and people who thrive.  When I was 17 and a senior in high school, my mother died suddenly in her sleep.
It rocked our family to the core. She wasn’t just the heart of our home; she was the glue that held together two huge extended families on both my parents’ sides. Just a month before, my parents had signed the papers allowing me to join the Air Force, since I was still a minor. Losing her wasn’t something I could prepare for. It’s the kind of event that shifts the ground under your feet and never really settles the same way again. It shattered my father. After over twenty years together, he was never the same. And truthfully, none of us were. 🔍 The Moment Responsibility Found Me I left for the Air Force about ten months later, hoping distance, discipline, and a new future might help me sort through the wreckage. But back in Detroit, life got rougher. My father, still crushed by grief, struggled to care for my younger brothers. That’s when the calls started coming. I learned no one in our vast family circle—my father’s six siblings, my mother’s fourteen—could step in to take care of my youngest brother, Chris, who was only five at the time. So at 19 years old, on the other side of the country and barely figuring out adulthood myself, I did something that still shapes how I see leadership to this day: I petitioned the court for guardianship of my little brother. It took about six months. I wasn’t ready to take care of Chris. I didn’t have a master plan. But I got ready. Because no one else could, or would, step in. 🏢 How This Applies To Business (and Life) That lesson echoes every time I’ve been in a room where something important was at stake; whether it was in the classroom, in a boardroom, or running my own business. Because in organizations of every kind, there are moments when the person with the title or position simply can’t lead effectively, or chooses not to. That’s when true leaders reveal themselves. They’re often the ones without the formal rank. They don’t wait to be asked. They see what needs to be done, and they shoulder the load; not because it’s convenient, but because it’s necessary. I’ve seen countless teams stall waiting for the official “leader” to make a decision. But I’ve also seen incredible informal leaders step up, keep people calm, drive results, and steer everyone through uncertainty, often without ever having their name on the door or their pay grade matching their impact. 🌱 The Leadership Lessons 1️⃣ Leadership often begins in pain, not in confidence. No one ever talks about this. Most people think leadership starts when you feel equipped. The truth is it usually starts when you’re broken, scared, or grieving, and you decide to keep moving forward anyway. 2️⃣ Responsibility chooses you long before you feel ready. When no one else stepped up for Chris, that responsibility landed squarely on me. It didn’t matter that I was young, untested, or still sorting through my own losses. Real leadership starts when you say “I’ll handle it,” even if inside you’re saying “I don’t know how.” 3️⃣ True impact rarely waits for your permission slip. Most of the defining moments of your life won’t wait until your schedule clears or until you’ve had a chance to build up your confidence. They crash in. And you either answer the call, or you don’t. 📝 The Takeaway For Leaders Everywhere If you’re in business, running a team, or just guiding your own family through life’s chaos, remember this: Titles don’t make leaders. Decisions do. The willingness to step forward, to carry weight when everyone else steps back, is the rawest form of leadership there is. I didn’t become a guardian to build my resume or prove something. I did it because someone had to, and because deep down, I knew if I didn’t, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.  Over the years, I’ve had parents pull their children from our martial arts program for all kinds of reasons.
Some wanted to try other activities. Some children became temporarily disinterested. Other parents simply treated martial arts as a seasonal activity, and when soccer season rolled around, they pulled them out. I always try to share the benefits of keeping their kids in classes, even if it’s just once a week during those seasons. What many don’t realize is how martial arts doesn’t compete with other activities…it enhances them. It gives kids an edge on the field, on stage, in the classroom, and everywhere else. The Lost Potential We May Never See Recently, one of our students left because their parent decided to pull them out. This student genuinely enjoyed martial arts and had so much untapped potential. Now, will this child go on to live a good life without martial arts? Of course. They’ll probably be just fine. But, what if? What if the confidence and self-esteem they built here gave them the courage to audition for band, try out for dance, or apply to one of the top performing arts schools in the country? What if that led them to become a top graduate and the next award-winning choreographer behind a major production? We can’t predict exactly what will happen for each child. But we know the potential, because we’ve seen it time and again. I’m Living Proof of What’s Possible I know firsthand the power of martial arts. I grew up on the rough streets of Detroit, where the odds were stacked against me. But martial arts gave me confidence, discipline, and resilience. It helped me rise to become a senior enlisted leader in the U.S. Air Force, work for a Fortune 500 company, start my own business, and even appear on a major network docuseries. More importantly, it’s allowed me to mentor and inspire thousands of children and adults over the years through the incredible vehicle of martial arts. How Other Sports Help — But differently Make no mistake, I believe most sports and recreational activities offer tremendous value:
Why Martial Arts is Different — and More Complete I’m admittedly biased toward martial arts, but only because I’ve seen, and personally lived the difference. There’s simply no other activity that provides the same complete package of internal and external development. Martial arts builds:
It’s not just another sport. It’s a character development journey. A Final Thought — And An Invitation If you’re a parent reading this, think about the long-term impact martial arts could have on your child, even alongside their other activities. And if you’re local to us, know that our academy isn’t some strip-mall franchise chasing attendance numbers. We’re a private academy that specializes in personal development, teaching leadership, confidence, and resilience through martial arts. If you want more for your child, more than just sports skills, more than just recreation, we’d be honored to help unlock their full potential. Kinchen Martial Arts Academy 10308 Bailey Rd, Unit 420 Cornelius, NC 28031 wwwkinchenmartialarts.com |
AuthorCliff Kinchen is a lifelong martial artist and seasoned leadership trainer who blends combat discipline with real-world leadership insight. With decades of experience—from Air Force instruction to corporate boardrooms—he helps others grow through confidence, character, and challenge. His writing sparks reflection, inspires action, and invites readers to lead from the inside out Archives
September 2025
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