Paralympic Champion Archer Gao Fangxia: Choosing independence is my earliest decision

Photo / Gao Fangxia, a Chinese Paralympic Champion Archer

Story told by Gao Fangxia in May, 2025

Edited by Qingyu Zhang, Jane Li

English translated by Qiran Zhang

Choose Independence: My Earliest Decision

My name is Gao Fangxia, a former Chinese Paralympic archer. Although I am still an active athlete, I first encountered archery when I was 24 years old. Even though I’m now a bit older, my love for the sport remains undiminished.

When I was four, I injured my leg, and by the age of nine, my parents had divorced. From that moment on, I felt that, in the end, I could only rely on myself. After my parents’ separation, my primary school headteacher showed me great kindness. She never treated me as a disabled child needing special care; instead, she encouraged me greatly, urging me to participate in speech competitions and inspiring me to excel in writing. Once, my essay even won a national prize. Her support and opportunities made me feel no less capable than any other child. I am especially grateful to her for helping me cultivate a positive outlook on life and strong values.

Growing up, I made almost all my decisions independently, from what to do after graduation to decisions about my marriage. I’ve always handled major life choices on my own. Perhaps because of my childhood injury, I never saw my disability as a source of inferiority or deep harm. I simply accepted that my leg was gone but refused to let it define or limit me. Determined not to rely on others, I mastered as many life skills as possible to avoid burdening anyone. Since childhood, this mindset shaped me into someone who could tackle almost everything independently.

As I grew older, I developed clear goals for every decision I made. For instance, after finishing middle school, I chose not to take the college entrance exam. At that time, my father was raising me and my brother alone, and our family was under significant financial strain. I wanted to graduate early, start working, and ease my father’s burden so that I wouldn’t add to his worries. Therefore, I decided to attend a technical school. In the 1990s, technical school graduates were guaranteed job assignments, making it a practical choice for our circumstances.

“Dad, I Want to Go to Beijing”

It was probably during my internship in 2004 that I heard on the radio about “sports for people with disabilities”. That was the first time I learned such a thing even existed. Before that, I had never even met another disabled person like me. When I heard the broadcast, I was very curious. I went to an internet café to look up more information and finally learned what disabled sports were all about.

Some things in life really are a mix of chance and opportunity. When I first learned about disabled sports, the sport being introduced was archery. Later, when I had my own first experience with disabled sports, it also happened to be archery. For me, archery was love at first sight.

When I saw it, I talked to my father and said, “Dad, I want to go to Beijing. I don't want to spend my whole life in Datong. I want to see the world.” I longed to see a bigger world, to meet more people. At the time, I was young and full of big dreams, not overly concerned about whether they were realistic. I simply told my dad how I felt. He said, “You know, if you go to Beijing, you’ll lose your job, and you’re still just an intern.”

The job I was assigned to would have become permanent three months later. I was just ten days short of that milestone. But I told my dad, “It’s okay. I’ve made up my mind. I just want to give it a try.” My dad, as always, was incredibly supportive. Since I was a child, he had always stood behind my decisions. That made me feel very lucky. Although my family wasn’t very happy overall, having my dad’s unwavering support made me feel truly fortunate. He said, “Then go. If it doesn’t work out, come back. No matter what, I’ll always be here for you.”

Maybe if my dad hadn’t said those words, this decision wouldn’t have felt so significant. But because he did, I became even more determined to go, to see for myself, and to give it a try. At the time, I also felt uncomfortable being the only disabled person in the office. I didn’t want to seem special or be the one constantly receiving help. “Why should I have to stick to a nine-to-five job?” I thought. I wanted to carve out my own path, so in 2005, I went to Beijing.

Back then, I didn’t think too much about whether I could succeed or not. My only thought was to give it everything I had, to exhaust every possibility, and to do my best.

I Won a Bronze Medal in My First Competition

When I joined the disabled archery team, I didn’t expect everything to go so smoothly. Even the trial period passed without a hitch.

However, my first competition was quite challenging. When I started practicing archery, there weren’t training bases or the kind of facilities we have now. At that time, disabled sports in China were far from developed. We didn’t even have a coach in 2005—there were just about a dozen of us on the team. Later, the archery team faced disbandment due to its lack of results and a coach. In the end, only two people remained: me and my now-husband, Brother Dong.

Both of us really loved archery, so we decided to stick with it. After practicing for over six months, we thought, “Even if we participate in just one competition, it will be worth it.” That was the mindset we had at the time. By then, it was just the two of us left on the team. Back then, unlike today, information about competitions was scarce.

Someone gave us a poster of a Korean archer. The two of us studied the poster intensely, analyzing the archer’s form. We even imagined the static image coming to life as if it were dynamic. Every day, we practiced while referencing the poster’s movements. Many people said there was no hope for the project, and many team members switched to other sports. But the two of us remained unwavering. Even without proper equipment, I used a domestic practice bow and arrows in my first competition, while others used imported ones.

In my first competition, I won a bronze medal, which was completely unexpected. As for Brother Dong, he won a gold medal in his first competition. At that time, we didn’t know much about national-level achievements or how we would perform—we simply focused on doing our best. Unexpectedly, in our first National Games, I didn’t perform well, but Brother Dong excelled. He broke multiple world records and won two gold medals. Coaches and athletes from other provinces, even seasoned veterans, were stunned. They wondered, “How could such a talented athlete suddenly appear in Beijing?”

At the time, I wasn’t as skilled, but having someone like Brother Dong by my side gave me a role model to look up to. Sometimes, it feels like certain events are guided by fate. Thanks to that competition, both of us had the opportunity to join the national team, step onto a larger stage, and compete against even more outstanding athletes. When we participated in the World Championships for the first time in 2007, Brother Dong became the first Chinese male world champion in archery.

At that time, I hadn’t thought much about joining the national team. Looking back now, I feel that getting in and achieving some success validated my decision. But if I hadn’t achieved results, I might have wondered, “Why did I quit my job for this?” Before making the decision, I believed that I wouldn’t do too poorly and that I could achieve good results. This wasn’t arrogance—it was confidence in myself.

To this day, I believe that having a clear understanding of oneself is especially important. Knowing what you’re good at and what you’re not is crucial for personal growth. 

After Having a Baby, the Dream Continues

By 2012, I had already competed in two Paralympic Games—Beijing in 2008 and London in 2012. At 32 years old, I had achieved great results, including an Olympic gold medal and a world championship. It felt like the right time to start planning for my family. So in 2012, we bought a house in Beijing.

After buying the house, we decided to have a baby, and everything went smoothly. However, as a mother, I felt I might not be a very good one because I returned to training just four months after giving birth. At that time, I wanted to push myself further. I was 33 or 34 years old and eager to compete in Rio in 2016, so I trained hard. But I didn’t recover well postpartum and felt I had already given my all. I earned a quota spot for the Chinese team in Rio, but due to changes in that cycle and the need to train new athletes, I couldn’t participate. At that point, I thought I’d retire after Rio. In my heart, I still loved archery and held onto a small dream to keep trying.

During training and competitions, I was always worried because my mother-in-law was taking care of my child. Many people criticized me, saying, “You’ve already had a child. Why aren’t you staying home to take care of them? Why are you still out there practicing?” They believed I shouldn’t have returned. But for us athletes, without formal jobs, we cherish opportunities like this to prove our worth and create value for ourselves.

In the beginning, I doubted myself when people said, “You’re not spending time with your child.” I also felt I wasn’t a good mother. But later, I realized, I’m a great mother, too. Now, my child admires me. He thinks I’m amazing and gives me timely encouragement. For instance, when we swim together, and I can’t swim as well as him, he guides me, which makes me feel so proud. Just as we affirm our children, they, in turn, affirm us.

When he was little and needed more of my time, I wasn’t always there. I felt I wasn’t fulfilling my role well. But there was no way to do both—I could only focus on one thing at a time. Later, during training, while trying to maintain my strength, I’d sleep in a bit, and my son would come to my door and say, “Mom, bow and arrow!” He was so funny and adorable, and those moments meant so much to me.

I deeply admire my mother-in-law. Her philosophy is: “We’re a family. Everyone should focus on their responsibilities. I can take good care of your child while you focus on your work. If we each do our part, our family will only get better and better.” During training, her support gave me confidence. I thought, “If she could raise Brother Dong to be such an exceptional person, there’s no doubt she can take good care of her grandson.” Of course, my mother-in-law’s background in early childhood education reassured me as well. She’s also someone who loves learning and embodies the idea of ‘living and learning.’

One Must Have Love

Because my parents divorced when I was young, I rarely had the chance to call someone “mom.” When I got married, I called my mother-in-law by her title, but she said, “You should call me Mom instead.” Even then, I couldn’t bring myself to say it. It felt like I didn’t have the concept of a mother.

When I was very young, in the winter, my classmates all had gloves, but I didn’t. At that time, I used a crutch made of iron, and my hands would turn red from the cold. One of my classmates’ mothers noticed this and knitted a pair of gloves for me. So you see, I wasn’t lacking in love. Back then, I thought, ‘It’s as if my own mother knitted them for me.’

But in my heart, I felt deeply for my father. I thought he had it particularly hard, but he never said anything. He never told me about his struggles. My father wasn’t good at expressing himself, and I’m not very good at expressing my feelings either.

For me, a very important life lesson is this: One must have love! And beyond that, one must have a passion for something and hold oneself to a high standard. It can be said that archery made me who I am, but the effort and determination I poured into this journey also shaped me. I hope to always guard my original intention, to remain content, and to keep an open and inclusive attitude toward myself and others.

When it comes to my personality, I think I was born this way. As a child, I didn’t understand much and hadn’t experienced a lot, but I was clear about certain things. For example, when my parents divorced, my teacher told me, “Don’t let your mother leave. If she goes, your family won’t be complete. You have to cry, hold onto her, and not let her go.” I replied, “Why not let her go? They argue every day. Isn’t it better for them to be apart?” The teacher was stunned and said, ‘This child is simply unbelievable.’

I didn’t think I was wrong. I just thought, “That’s how it is.” When people saw me as a child, they would say, “Poor little girl.” But I would respond, “I’m not pitiful. I lost my leg, but look, I can do everything now.” As a kid, I even played jump rope and climbed onto rooftops with my classmates. (Laughter)

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