One woman’s path to a black belt — and hemophilia diagnosis

For most people, taekwondo is about discipline, confidence, and the long path toward a black belt. For Tara Blakely, it became something else entirely — a story of interruptions, detours, motherhood, misdiagnosed bleeding, and the quiet strength required to begin again when life keeps pulling you away.

Tara began her martial arts training in 1996 as a teenager. She moved steadily through the early belts, teaching younger students, leading stretches, cleaning mats — becoming part of the heartbeat of the Brookfield dojang in Wisconsin. Those were good years, filled with purpose and momentum. But like so many young martial artists, life shifted. College came with a full-ride scholarship, and the dream was set aside.

She thought she’d left it behind for good.

Years later, after marriage and early careers, Tara and her husband, Jay, decided to try taekwondo as a way to stay active. A new school was opening, and Tara — now the highest belt in the room — immediately fell back into teaching. For a moment, it looked like the journey might resume easily.

Then came the knee injury.

Doctors were baffled. Her knee looked like it belonged to someone twice her age. The bleeding during and after surgery was extensive —alarming, even. But no one knew why. Only that Tara was in pain, sidelined, watching everyone else advance while she sat still.

Motherhood brought more pauses. Her first child needed far more support than they’d expected. Then her second son arrived, and so did the bruises. Bruises no one could explain. At just 4 months, he was diagnosed with severe hemophilia B. And in that moment, Tara’s entire life clicked into place. The constant bruising. The heavy bleeding. The emergency room visits. The skepticism she’d endured for decades. The knee that wouldn’t heal.

She had hemophilia, too.

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Stepping back on the mat

As many women in our community know, this is a familiar story. Symptoms dismissed. Pain chalked up to exaggeration or anxiety. Anemia and iron deficiency waved away as routine female complaints. Tara, like so many women, grew up believing she simply bruised easily, that she was overreacting, because the medical system hadn’t been built to see her.

In his first three years, her youngest child was hospitalized more than 150 times. Her first son lived in a world that was too loud, too bright, too much — autism and sensory overload turning ordinary moments into ordeals. Fear and exhaustion pressed down on them. But love held everything together, even when the logistics threatened to pull it all apart.

Taekwondo seemed impossible.

Then the pandemic hit — job loss, lockdowns, two special-needs children, isolation. Weight gain and hopelessness settled in. Tara gave up on returning. The dream felt childish now, distant.

But slowly, as the world reopened, something shifted.

Jay took the kids back to the dojang. Eventually, something sparked in Tara. She stepped back on the mat, tested for her high red belt, slowly started shedding weight, 100 pounds and counting. She began to see herself again.

Tara’s life is full: a demanding job, kids with complex needs, and a bleeding disorder that went undiagnosed for decades. Most nights, she practices at home with her family, learning at her own pace, occasionally shouting at Jay when he rushes through a form.

She keeps going.

Transforming pain into purpose

Today, she travels to conferences around the country, helping women understand that “carrier” is not a diagnosis — that their symptoms are real, their pain matters. She advocates so no woman endures what she did: decades without a diagnosis, decades of joint damage, decades of dismissal.

For me — as someone who writes often about women with bleeding disorders — the most powerful part of Tara’s story isn’t the black belt she’s been testing for nearly 30 years after she began. It’s everything that happened in between.

The years of unexplained bruising that no one connected to hemophilia. The countless women she now advocates for because she remembers what it felt like to be dismissed. The newly diagnosed parents who receive her call because she hasn’t forgotten the terror of those early days.

The way she transformed pain into purpose. Confusion into clarity. Medical gaslighting into a megaphone for others.

In a few days, Tara will test for her black belt. But it’s not an ending. The journey continues. And maybe that’s what we should honor most — not the belt, but the grit required to keep returning. To the mat, to your body, to your voice.

Tara’s story isn’t just about taekwondo. It’s about reclaiming what was stolen: health, identity, strength. It’s about finally being seen.

Note: Hemophilia News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Hemophilia News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to hemophilia.