Jodie Ounsley: “Sometimes your biggest strength is admitting when you’re struggling”

As a ​’90s kid, I have a crystal clear memory of putting a cushion on a broom handle, battering my little brother with it like it was a pugil stick, and then howling like a wolf, in honour of my favourite Gladiator. The original Gladiators series was a Saturday staple in our house; I watched diligently every week, with one eye on my dad, who reckoned he’d never lost an arm wrestle in his life and was definitely sizing up the superhumans on the screen like he could have them, and one eye on Jet, who I was in love with. 

The 2024 revival has given me the chance to experience all this again, but this time as a father, doing everything I can to instill in my daughter the feeling that if she wants to do something – be it boxing or ballet – her dad will make it happen. My little girl is a Gladiators fanatic, and Fury, aka Jodie Ounsley, is her absolute hero. Jodie, from Dewsbury in West Yorkshire, is profoundly deaf (meaning she has a hearing threshold of 95dB) and became one of the UK’s youngest recipients of a cochlear implant as a toddler. Before smashing contenders on Gladiators, she was a junior coal carrying champion, Brazilian jiu jitsu gold medalist and the world’s first ever deaf female rugby sevens international, all inspired by the beautiful simplicity of wanting to copy her dad while he was training in their back garden.

Jodie’s father passed away suddenly while hiking up Pen-y-ghent in the Yorkshire Peaks on November 30, 2025. She joined me on Zoom to reflect on their life together, how he raised a daughter who never felt she couldn’t try something because she was a girl, and how retreading his footsteps in the Yorkshire Peaks is helping her navigate grief.

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What’s your earliest memory of your dad?

I remember the first training session we did together. I remember it so clearly. We were in the garden and my dad was running with bags of coal on his shoulders. Now I know he was training for the World Coal Carrying Championship, but at that time, I didn’t have a clue what he was doing. I remember seeing him and thinking: ​“I wanna do that!” From then, we started training together. I started training for the race as well.

I find it so interesting that in most of the interviews I’ve done, people’s earliest memory of their dad is based around their dads doing something that requires strength, and their children wanting to copy them.

That’s all I wanted to do. Stereotypically, I wasn’t the girliest at that time. I just looked up to my dad. He was literally my idol. He was this tough, strong bloke, even ​’til the very end. I always saw him as being a strong dad. Weirdly, I could never see him getting old. I don’t know why. I just got that image in my head that it wouldn’t change. That’s how I’ll always remember him now, which is a strange feeling.

It must be strange. And maybe comforting, in a way? My dad is now a shell of the person he used to be. Is it comforting that you’ll remember your dad as this big, strong, handsome man?

I was speaking to one of my friends. His dad had dementia as well. We had that conversation. I was saying it [Jodie’s dad’s passing] was such a shock, really sudden and he was young, but at the same time it did bring comfort that he went doing something he loved – doing his favourite thing, being fit. That’s how I’ll always remember him. I do feel grateful that I can remember him that way.

But either way, it’s still shit that we’ve lost them, you know?

Yeah. That’s the best way of saying it.

For children who grow up with their dads in their lives, our dads are generally our first male role models. What did you learn about what it means to be a man from your dad?

I loved how strong he was. Not just physically strong. But how he really showed up for his family. He really cared about his kids and he really cared about his wife. He was in the police for 30 years. He was in MMA and Brazilian jiu jitsu. He was this big, tough guy. But anyone who knew him always said he felt so much pride in his family, and he wouldn’t shut up about it. I have a lot of respect for how much he respected his family, and no matter what he achieved, his family always came first. So I think being a strong dad is also being someone who shows up for his family. It’s something I’ll definitely take, going forward.

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In my other life, I work with children and young people who are having a tough time. We talk about how helpful combat sports can be for young boys. Girls are often missed out of that conversation. You were a Brazilian jiu jitsu champion. How did the sport help you?

I think all contact sports, whether it’s rugby, Brazilian jiu jitsu, boxing – no matter how you’re feeling, whether it’s anger, anxiety, feeling low – they have that way of releasing that feeling and getting it out of the system. I just loved being physical. I loved fighting my dad and my brother. I always felt better afterwards. But I think I probably realised more as I got a bit older that it’s mainly mentally beneficial for me. I can’t recommend it enough for kids to get involved in a combat sport. The teamwork and discipline goes a long way.

There absolutely were a generation of dads who would’ve thought there’s no way their little girls are doing anything combat-related. There will be dads out there who still think that now. I’ve had my daughter hitting pads since she was two! How supportive was your dad with your BJJ training?

Because he came from that background, he knew the benefits and how it made him feel and how much he genuinely loved it. So it were just natural. It wasn’t really him saying, ​“Get into Brazilian jiu jitsu.” I just naturally wanted to copy what he was doing and train with him. He never made me think Brazilian jiu jitsu or rugby were male dominated sports. He was just like, ​“Right, let’s fight in the garage. Let’s go and do some sprints outside.” And I just thought that’s normal, that’s really fun. He just normalised it for me. It was probably as I got older, I realised in high school that if I was playing rugby, all my friends were probably doing other stuff. I probably realised my interests were a bit different. It’s amazing what you’re doing as well, because that’s normalising it. She’s gonna be a right badass when she grows up in’t she!

Yeah, I’m gonna have my hands full. But that’s how I like it. It sounds like your dad never put any limits on what you could or couldn’t do, in terms of sport.

He literally let me try any sport. I tried ballet and tap-dance, which I was just shocking at. Because I clearly wanted to be involved in more contact stuff. I did karate, judo, Brazilian jiu jitsu, and athletics. He always encouraged it, even if I wasn’t the greatest at it. That always made me willing to try stuff, then eventually you find something that you stick at.

When I reflect, I think one thing I never really saw in my dad was a gentler, more vulnerable side. As a dad myself, I’ve tried to embrace gentleness and vulnerability. Did you get to see that side of your dad growing up?

This were always a running joke with him. My dad supported me in absolutely anything. He’d do anything for me. His words were, ​“I wanna make your life easier.” But in terms of talking about feelings, that’s what he struggled with. It weren’t like he didn’t want to do it. He just probably didn’t know how to. Over the years we did try and get it out of him a little bit more. But it was never that I didn’t feel loved, or that I couldn’t tell him how I felt. It was more trying to get dad’s feelings out of him. He definitely softened as he got older. And we had moments of being able to read him better, on a deeper level. It was more like a puzzle, really, of us trying to suss out how he was feeling. He always had his ways of showing us how much he loved us and cared for us. Me and my mum were so open. We’d just chat about our feelings. With dad, we’d find different ways to get through to him.

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I think this is a generational thing. I’ll be 40 in the summer. Your dad was a generation before that. I think men of his generation weren’t taught the skills to talk about their feelings.

My dad also wanted to change that part of him. Recently, before he passed, he went to see a therapist. Not because anything bad had happened. He just wanted to chat to someone about his feelings, and he absolutely loved it. He wanted to go again. Even from that one session, he came home like a different person. 

There are lots of conversations about how young boys are being dragged into some very negative things online. Your upcoming book Strong Girls is obviously aimed at girls like my daughter, but what could young boys learn from the book?

The book relates to any young kids out there, especially with the mental stuff that I’ve dug into. Sometimes your biggest strength is admitting when you’re struggling, and there are different ways you can tell your friends that you are. Being honest with your friends shows how strong you are. I think viewing strength from that perspective relates to everyone.

I think that’s brilliant because often with some of the situations the young boys I work with are in, it’s because they don’t feel strong enough to tell their friends that they don’t want to do the things that are happening. They don’t feel able to say, ​“Actually, I don’t have that view about girls.” Or, ​“I’m not interested in what that man on the internet has to say.” How did entering a team environment and playing rugby develop your mental strength?

At first, being part of a team was really daunting. Because I’m deaf, there were extra barriers with communication. But once I felt more confident and got to know my team and could speak to people about it, I really enjoyed that environment. It helped me grow as a person, really. Especially going into the England set up at 18. That were like a whole rollercoaster in itself. It made me grow up quickly and become disciplined, because I was having to communicate with people. It had so many benefits, mentally, and made me stronger, braver and more confident. It had a lot of challenges too, like injuries, and not feeling good enough sometimes. But overall, the best thing ever.

I can see how happy you feel just talking about it. Now, Gladiators! There was a family connection to the show already, through your dad. He competed in the Sky reboot in the late 2000s. What are your memories of that? How did your dad do?

I must’ve been about seven. I remember it like it were yesterday, him going against all these Gladiators! I thought it were the best thing ever. I remember thinking the women were really powerful and strong. It were a sore subject [for Jodie’s dad] though! He’d never let it lie. He became quite popular through it, because he was a young and into his MMA at the time, a family Yorkshire man. People were really rooting for him. We’ve got a scrap book of all the press from it. The series he did used water in the eliminator, and they didn’t test what it would be like coming out of the water and running up the travelator. So he slipped. My dad and this other guy were slipping all over the place. The other guy won. My dad were like, ​“If it weren’t for that water, I would’ve had it!”

When the applications [for the current series] came out, my dad said, ​“Why don’t you put yourself forward?” We didn’t think I’d get it. And here we are.

How has being a Gladiator impacted you? 

I am a really shy person, just naturally. Since the world of Gladiators and being on TV, in the last two years my confidence has really grown. I’m literally the same person, I can just stand in front of the camera now without absolutely wanting the floor to swallow me up. I still get nervous before everything I do, but I’ve got a better poker face to hide the nerves.

I think Gladiators is a really fun way of breaking down stereotypes that young boys and girls might be developing about each other and themselves, even. Do you get a sense of that when you’re filming?

I don’t know why, but it seems to get me more when I see young lads holding Fury signs up because they might be rugby lads who like Fury because I used to play rugby. I think it’s so cool because it’s just the norm to them – it’s not about gender. They’re like, ​“That’s Fury and she’s tough.” And for young girls, we [female Gladiators] have all got different body types and different sporting backgrounds but we’re all being celebrated for being tough, strong women. It’s nice for kids to see that and normalise it for them. I think we all feel passionate about that.

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To finish, we’ve touched on the fact that you lost your dad very suddenly in November. You’re doing a walk to honour him. Could you tell me a bit about that?

Yeah. My dad passed away whilst he was walking up Pen-y-ghent, which is one of the Yorkshire Peaks. It was so out of the blue. He was so fit. He felt absolutely fine. Like we’ve said, grief is so different for everyone. My way of dealing with my emotions is exercise, and exercise is something me and my dad did together. On the day he passed, my dad never reached the summit. I wanted something to focus on, and also raise money for the Elizabeth Foundation which has supported me since I was a young girl with speech therapy. It offers rehab for young deaf children. I’m going to walk up the mountain on April 11, carrying 56kg, which represents every year of my dad’s life. 

Walking is a much slower, more meditative form of training than you’re used to. How are you finding that?

The thought of walking, in the nicest way possible, was so boring. But my dad literally used to drag us for walks up mountains as kids. I just never understood or appreciated why he loved it so much. Since he passed and I started walking, I hate to say it but I’m actually beginning to love it. It’s forcing me to slow down and just take time to think about stuff that I probably wouldn’t otherwise, in the best way. I think I feel closer to my dad as well. If I see a sunrise or sunset, I just think, ​“Dad would absolutely love this.” It’s been the best thing for me while I’m navigating it [grief] and getting used to this new norm.

I’m not religious, but I think nature is the closest thing to any sort of God or spirituality we can experience. The sight of a bird on a branch or a fox appearing across a field gives me a lot of peace when I’m outside. Have you encountered any moments like that?

I’m not religious either, but I do believe in signs and stuff. Sometimes you get a gut feeling about stuff. On one of the first walks I did, in the middle of nowhere, on this high peak with no-one around, this bloody robin popped up out of nowhere. I stood still because it caught my attention. Then it hopped towards me. I carried on walking. 20 minutes later, a robin appeared. I took a picture and zoomed in on it. It was the same robin. It jumped down from where it was and started hopping down the path towards me again. It gave me such a sense of comfort that I didn’t know I needed at that moment in time. It felt quite special, actually.

Strong Girls by Jodie Ounsley is published by Pan MacMillan.

Hard Feelings is Huck’s column on fatherhood and masculinity, hosted by Rob Kazandjian. Read more from the series here.

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