When your mum is a 14-time world champion, it can be hard to be known as anything else other than her daughter.

When I first started out in fighting I felt so much pressure. People wouldn’t know my name and just refer to me as ‘Julie Kitchen’s daughter’. 

I wasn’t necessarily training as hard as I could, and I didn’t see myself making Muay Thai a career. The pressure got to me. It was tough if mum was watching, and I also had my dad in my corner. 

It is only recently as I have progressed in the sport that I have been getting my own name out there. 

Being a twin probably added to it too – we were always ‘Amber and Allaya, Julie’s daughters’. Now I can stand on my own just as Amber, and that gives me a real boost.

We weren’t aware of mum’s success growing up. We knew what she did but it all seemed perfectly normal to us, it’s not until now that I can really appreciate what she did with her training, runs, diet, plus juggling me and Allaya it must have been incredibly tough for her. 

For mum to have started in the sport after having me and my sister and get as far she did in the sport absolutely amazes me. 

She could have been getting ready for the biggest fight of her life and I wouldn’t even watch her train, but I really wish I had done now.

I remember times when mum would come home from fights and her face would be cut up or bruised and that would shock me a bit, as it would anyone, but I was only young and knew it would be fine.

All fun and games, until you get hit in the face

Fighting was like a game to start off with my twin sister from a very young age. 

We had a shed in our garden with a ring and pads so we used to make a game out of it. As we got older we would go to the gym while the adult classes were on. We didn’t join in for a while but used to do our own thing by going into a spare room and making up our own routines for Thai boxing demonstrations. It was really light-hearted and fun, we would try all kinds of spinning moves and try to figure out if we could do things nobody else could.

We then progressed to join the kids’ classes and then the adults. At the age of around eight or nine we were helping out in the adult classes actually teaching them – it sounds a bit weird, but we would just go around doing the basics like checking people’s guards, but it gave us a lot of confidence.

When we started competing it would always end up with me and my sister in the finals, fortunately it wasn’t long before we were in different weight categories so didn’t have the worries of fighting each other. She stopped competing at around the age of 13, and I had a break – but when I returned that’s when I started taking things more seriously.

Being in and around fighting was second nature to us growing up, it was just part of our daily routine. We tried other sports, but never really took to anything else. 

As I got older and moved through the age groups, I struggled when head contact was introduced. There was a fear and mental block. It was like a different sport and I had difficulties in adapting which led to me taking another break –  I can certainly take a shot now though! 

I think it wasn’t until a really big fight I took in Holland against a very experienced opponent that I became ok with it.   She kicked me so hard in the head, it really spun me out to the point I couldn’t see, at the point I wanted to give up but there was no way my corner would let me, so I just carried on and a few seconds later felt fine – after taking that I knew everything else would be okay. The worst that can happen is me getting knocked out, and I won’t even feel that anyway.

Sometimes the fight in your head can be harder than the fight in the ring

I still get really bad anxiety before any fight, but with the more big fights I win the more my confidence builds. That passes on to my training and I feel more motivated, and think if I can get through one big fight then I can get through the next, and the next. 

Even though I am still only 21, I have always chased big name opponents. 

I like being the underdog. I think it not only shifts the pressure but also makes you train harder and it makes me focus more. 

I have got to the point where I can work anxiety to my advantage, I have a little cry before a fight and that hits the switch. That side of things is done, and it is time to get in there. I hate the walkout, always have done – I never like the idea of the audience’s eyes just being on me – I’d be so much happier if I could walk out at the same time as my opponent, but this isn’t going to happen. 

Once I am in the ring I am fine – that’s what I know. During the fight, it is like the audience isn’t even there. All I can hear is my corner and I just focus on their instruction and whoever is in front of me. 

I had a couple of losses and was left wondering why I had given up so easily in those fights. That’s the worst thing. Losing is bad, but knowing you haven’t done enough is the worst. 

When I get dark moments in fights, I think about the work and training that has been done to get to that point. As a 21-year-old I miss out on a lot because of my training. I don’t go out, I don’t drink, I don’t see my friends. It is a lot of sacrifice so I have to make sure all that is worth it, and it drives me to do the very best I can.