EMMA ETCHEBERRY

What I remember most is how quickly I felt it was a sport in which I could both perform well and have fun. Ten years of gymnastics had given me a real sense of spatial awareness (proprioception), and that translated very naturally onto the mats.

At the time, I had never even heard of jiu-jitsu, and I had no idea what I was getting into. But generally speaking, I set very few limits for myself. So I threw myself into competition very quickly, because I love performing. I did so without taking the time to look at the bigger picture (what other athletes were doing, the level of competition worldwide, and so on), or to set any precise goals. I simply kept moving forward, driven by the desire to see how far I could go.

The turning point that changed the way I trained most profoundly was going to the United States for the World Championships. I spent a month there training with the best team in the world. When I saw all the resources they had—the facilities, the quality of the coaches, and above all the quality of the training partners—I felt as though I was discovering what jiu-jitsu really was.

In a way, I came out of denial. I realized that I could not perform at the level I wanted if I stayed where I was, and that it would even be very difficult to do so in France. And by performing, I mean at world level. I found myself facing a choice: either move abroad or change sports.

I thought I would come into MMA with far more tools at my disposal. In the end, my ground game helps, but not as much as I expected, because it depends entirely on my ability to take the fight to the ground—what we call shootboxing. Since I started, that is almost all I have been doing: shootboxing, boxing, shootboxing, boxing.

To be honest, if I had known just how far behind I was starting, I am not sure I would have had the courage to take up MMA.

Strangely enough, I felt very calm about it. After twenty years of competing in different sports, it was the first time in my life that I was detached from the result. I cannot really explain why, but I had managed to find enjoyment in the process. I felt I was where I belonged, everything had gone well, and I felt as though I had already won everything. So I stepped into the cage completely free from the pressure of the outcome, simply feeling happy.

It was quite an instinctive choice. When I decided to take up MMA, I told myself I would go to Bali, even though I knew nothing about the island and had barely heard of its gyms. I first tried several clubs in France, then in the United States, then in Thailand. In the end, Bali was where I found the best training environment for me.

Day to day, I am surrounded by professional MMA athletes who are my size. There are few women in combat sports, so we mostly train with men, and over there an average man weighs around 60 kg. That means I have a huge number of training partners. On top of that, the standard of coaching is something I had not found elsewhere, and above all there is a training philosophy that suits me: supportive, structured, with a teaching approach that speaks to me.

The people around me and my personal balance have a direct impact on my performance. That is why, for example, I could never have settled in Paris. In Bali, I can express every side of my personality: the athlete, of course, but also the entrepreneur, and a more spiritual side of myself that I reconnect with on the island.

I remain deeply attached to the Basque Country, but moving around has never been difficult for me. I travelled from a very young age, lived in Brazil for a long time, and actually find it hard to stay in one place. I always organize my life around my goals, so moving to Bali did not really feel like a sacrifice.

Today, it is the only thing that truly limits my progress. Performance costs money. I personally pay for one-to-one boxing coaching, a ground-game coach, a strength and conditioning coach, a nutritionist, a mental performance coach, an osteopath… It is like a business that, for the time being, brings in no money but costs me a great deal.

Of course, not everyone invests as much as I do. But my ambitions are very high and I started late, so I surround myself with the best people in their fields, and that is extremely expensive. I have no sponsors: I finance everything myself while running two companies on my own. I enjoy that balance, because I love entrepreneurship, but it is a daily challenge. I often find myself in serious financial difficulty, which constantly pushes me to go beyond my limits. But sometimes I also lose my way a little in trying to maintain that balance.

The idea behind my retreat in Bali was to create a space where women could express their more yang side, to show that combat sports are not just for men. I also wanted to move beyond the clichés of a traditional wellness retreat—yoga, Pilates and so on.

I have trained in Chinese medicine, and I really appreciate its philosophy: living in harmony with your environment and seeking balance between yin and yang. So I wanted to create a place to explore that balance, with very yang activities in the morning—combat sports—and more yin, introspective activities in the afternoon: spa treatments, massages, care, reflection and artistic activities.

Unfortunately, I had to withdraw from the fight in Chambéry in October 2026 because of a severe burnout that left me bedridden for several months. I simply was not physically or medically able to fight.

Today, I am starting to recover, and I will gradually return to training. My goal is to have several amateur fights this year and then turn professional. Above all, what I am keeping in mind is the importance of enjoying the process.