The Invincible Sifu Illusion: Unmasking Authority in Traditional Martial Arts

By Alan Figueroa

The Illusion I Grew Up With

When I first began learning kung fu, my instructors had an air of invincibility. One that my peers and I accepted without question. My instructors did not spar with us in class, and yet they were thought of as being unbeatable. That belief shaped my expectations and distorted my understanding of what a martial arts teacher should be.

This illusion didn’t come from movies—it came from ego. I believe my instructors avoided sparring because they feared that losing to a student would make them appear weak in the eyes of others. To avoid this they told us that our martial art was too deadly to spar with. They also gatekept knowledge, slowing the progress of students. When clarity was sought, answers were often vague, and the only advice given was to “train more.” It created a culture where mystery replaced method, and authority was preserved through avoidance.

I believe that the illusion of the untouchable Sifu is a barrier to growth—for students and for the art itself.

Why I Chose a Different Path

When I began teaching, I made a clear decision: I would not be that kind of instructor, simply because I believe that martial arts can be a vehicle for uncovering our personal truths.

I spar with my students. I let them challenge me physically on the mat, this means that often I lose a match. I don’t pretend to be invincible, and I don’t hide behind tradition. I get hit. I get tested. And I grow. That’s the kind of culture I want to build—one where the teacher is not above the student, but alongside them. Where respect is earned through honesty, not mystique. Where the art evolves because we’re willing to pressure-test it together.

This approach has changed everything. It’s made me a better teacher, and it’s made my students more thoughtful, more capable, and more confident. They don’t just learn techniques—they learn how to think. They learn how to question. And they learn how to find what works for them.

Sparring Is the Truth Test

At DMXMA, sparring is not a side activity—it’s the core of our training. It’s where ideas are tested, not just taught. If a student discovers something useful through sparring, we explore it. Senior students help assess whether it holds up under pressure. If it does, we adopt it. This keeps our curriculum alive and honest.

Sparring exposes gaps. It reveals whether a technique works under stress, whether a strategy holds up in motion, and whether a student is thinking or just reacting. It also keeps me accountable. I don’t teach from a pedestal—I teach from the mat.

When I spar with students, I’m not trying to dominate them. I’m trying to learn from them. I want to see how they apply what they’ve learned. I want to see what they’ve discovered through movement. And I want them to see that I’m still learning too.

This dynamic creates a feedback loop. Students feel empowered to contribute. They know their insights matter. And they know that the art we practice is something we’re constantly rebuilding together.

Strategy Over Style

One might ask: "If we are constantly rebuilding our martial art, how can we say that we are still practicing Southern Praying Mantis Kung Fu?"

The answer is simple, the Southern Praying Mantis system does not involve imitating the insect’s movements—instead it imitates its tactic. The mantis quickly moves maneuvers past its preys defenses, traps its prey by taking control of its head and disables it quickly. That’s the strategy we follow. The technique used to carry it out is secondary. If a technique doesn’t serve the strategy, then it is useless—no matter how traditional it is.

This mindset allows us to evolve without losing our identity. We’re not trying to preserve a museum piece. We’re trying to keep the art alive. That means being willing to adapt, to discard what doesn’t work, and to refine what does.

I’ve removed choreographed partner drills from our curriculum. They didn’t hold up under pressure, and they didn’t teach students how to think. Instead, we focus on live resistance. We preserve essential hand drills, but we center our training around sparring, movement analysis, and strategic improvisation.

This shift has made our training more honest. Students don’t just memorize—they internalize. They learn to read patterns, to anticipate responses, and to apply tactics in real time. And they learn that technique is only valuable if it serves a purpose.

Conclusion: The Teacher Who Can Be Touched

As a teacher, I don’t want to be seen as invincible and infallible. I want to be seen as real. My students know they can challenge me, and they know I’ll respond in an honest and transparent way, because that is the kind of culture I want present at DMXMA. One where martial arts is a shared journey, not a performance. One where truth matters more than tradition.

 I believe that the illusion of the untouchable Sifu needs to be put to rest because what replaces it is something stronger: a living art, built on honesty, strategy, and shared growth.