Most of my jiu-jitsu training partners outweigh me by at least a hundred pounds. Sometimes more. I’m a 5’0” 41-year-old bookish introvert. This sport is hard. I get mat burns and sore fingers and bruises. Am I doing well? Do I look like a purple belt? Everyone’s bigger and stronger. Why keep coming back?
A lot of folks seem to rely on quite a bit of strength at first if they happen to be built that way. I wasn’t born that lucky or with a particular interest in spending hours on the machines in a gym next to guys flexing for themselves in mirrors. Why stick around if you’re not winning?
In working with bigger folks, I have had to be mostly technical and that can be demoralizing, especially as a beginner without many tools in the toolbox. Even later I think – I’m a purple belt after all, I should be somewhat good at this. This sweep should work! It’s hard and I spend a lot of time figuring out how to escape – which is to say on the bottom sucking stale, sweaty air, ineffectually shrimping, being the proverbial nail instead of the hammer, as the Gracie quote goes. I don’t have it all figured out now, but I’m better than I was when I started! That’s a win for me.
There are some advantages to being small like speed and fitting into spaces people don’t realize they’re leaving, but if all my weight isn’t in the two or three points I’m using for the technique, it’s probably not going to happen. Even when I’m doing it perfectly, their strength gets the better of me many times. Size matters. That’s just a fact. That doesn’t have to ruin the fun though! Is crushing everyone you meet what you consider winning? Is that the goal of your training?
Not all competition and vigorous training is bad. I do kind of dread the type of competition when you first get your purple belt or a new guy thinks “oh, this tiny lady should be an easy submission.” But when you find good people who respect each other and watch out for one another, a little competition can be good. There is a way to push each other, up the pace, but still in a playful controlled way. You both understand that your life doesn’t depend on “winning” this particular session. If your guard gets passed or you get swept, it’s not the end of your career. It means a little more work maybe. Now you have to pass guard again. But it certainly doesn’t reflect poorly on who you are as a person. It’s not a character flaw. If you’re on the mat, you’re learning and getting better. If you’re doing the work, you’re winning.
Though I enjoy friendly competition, I’m also putting my life in your hands as a smaller person. We smaller folks have to stay vigilant about a partner muscling through techniques or whether or not to invert or turtle if a heavier person might do something dangerous. Even if not explicitly stated each time, we all – no matter our size – still trust each other with our joints and necks. Training partners are there to make each other better and take care of each other. You’re not there to practice “street techniques” or mark off “wins” in your jiu-jitsu notebook. At least I hope not – not in an open mat and especially not during a regular class. There’s a high degree of trust involved that we don’t necessarily think about on a day to day basis. But if we’re all – regardless of size – in it for cooperative, respectful competition rather than skull crunching, spine crushing, knee wrenching wins we’ll all last longer, learn more and have more fun doing it.
I wrote this for:
https://geoffbalmebjj.com/2019/03/31/size-matters-but-training-helps/
A question on my mind lately has been how long do I have on the mat anyway? I'm probably not the only one. I realize this isn't a terribly original question, but I'm a woman who was introduced to martial arts in her mid-thirties, so it's new to me. I've been doing jiu-jitsu for seven or eight years and still look for any way I can get in another class. You know what I'm talking about. This is an addictive sport. Always just one more roll. Most people, when it's exciting and new, would go to YouTube and look up their favorite MMA guy or a really old master of a related martial art for inspiration, but for me it's a little more complicated.
Heroes and role models have always an uncomfortable subject for me. I never understood, even as a child, the necessity of fashioning yourself after someone who already exists when you're an entirely different person. I didn't want to be anyone else. (And I was asked everything: Do you wish you were taller? Do you wish you were a boy?) Being that I once won an essay contest in elementary school about role models by writing about Jim Davis instead of my parents like most of my peers, I apparently wasn't a bit concerned with the normal way of doing things, either.
For whatever reason, I've been thinking about my future in jiu-jitsu lately. Not so much attaining the black belt level - rank is more of a side benefit to what I love most: the physical and mental challenge. Maybe I'm thinking existentially because I'm 41. Maybe it's because I'm at the middle rank. Maybe it's because at this stage in the game, I've rolled with a lot of people – all kinds of people. I've been in class with at least two 70-year-old guys and worked with several in their 60s. These men still have the energy, desire, and skill to keep moving forward, and it keeps me going. I can't even count how many guys in their 40s and 50s I've rolled with. The guys I roll with are excellent and have skills and confidence I hope to acquire, and they help me with anything I need, but it's still a stretch for me to see myself following their path.
I didn't need a role model to start the sport, but upon looking around out of curiosity, I still came up rather short. Ronda Rousey was “it” at the time I began, but one can't really look to MMA for longevity in the sport. Before I started martial arts, I had movies like the Karate Kid franchise – I wasn't into the rest of them really (I know there is a canon of sorts – apologies to MA film aficionados) – and after, I saw real life characters shared on social media like the old judo master and any number of old Gracie fights. Fictional or real, they are these wise old masters venerated for knowledge and dedication who even in their last years are doing what they love. That's what I want to be no matter what rank I happen to end up at. I mean, whatever gender you are, it's pretty inspiring to see, giving hope that you won't necessarily have to retire or quit.
I sometimes wonder how much longer my own body will let me do this. I know everyone struggles with health and injury and training as much as you can before you can't anymore, from white belts to the old masters. I've had one knee surgery so far and the doctor warns of various things like early arthritis and asks are you sure you're going to keep doing this and all the rest. Of course, just like the guys, I take that under advisement and deal with it when/if it comes. After all, that won't be me. I'm the exception! Joking aside, the guys are a bit luckier than I am, in that they can be pretty confident they'll be on the mat a long time still. Chances are they know guys older than they are.
The men don't have to imagine the possibility of a 90-year-old judo master or 70-year-old guy learning jiu-jitsu because their futures are often in the gym where they train. I'm not saying there aren't women black belts or aren't older women who do jiu-jitsu – I'm just not surrounded by them. It could very well be regional. I'm not in a huge city. I know they're out there; they're just not as likely to walk into a gym anywhere near me any time soon. Most of my examples are men. We can ponder the reasons – sexism, Title IX's delayed effect, is it our bodies – I'd need to research that – but that's not what I'm talking about now. Men have this future that they absorb from birth without thinking too much – or anything – about it. Male is the default in many areas still, despite several waves of feminism, and martial arts is very much one of those. I see no one really like a Helio Gracie or mythical Mr. Miyagi for women unless I go to the Internet, which we can do. I did! I found an interview with a 50- and 46-year old woman as well as a great article by a woman who started BJJ at 43 and hits the high points of why I love the sport too. They are there, just not as readily available. I can't exactly lean over and ask Ms. Moto de Oliveira (see link) a quick question.
Without this long history of prolific examples that men have to show active older men and in the absence of many women my age in local gyms, I'm left with a more blurry or even blank future than my jiu-jitsu brothers. Is my future just not there – or is it as yet unwritten? Is this the beginning, with my generation having Title IX that established equal sports teams for women - or is it something unique to our biology that holds us women back or keeps us from participating? (The latter is another can of worms I would need a few years to research. The former I may discuss in my next post.) I suspect it's only the beginning for us, but doubt tends to creep in when there are so few examples of what exactly – or even very generally – is possible.
I hope that when my daughter is my age, her generation has the examples I never had.
--And to answer the title, yes, jiu-jitsu is for everyone!
"Have you seen the video of the girl who chokes out a guy wearing a t-shirt??" say any number of supportive men as I smile and try to cringe only a little. "She doesn't even need a gi!" they say as I think - great! When I'm raped, I can be in street clothes...
And we have martial arts magazines trying to be supportive like this: 10 Self Defense Strategies Every Woman Needs To Know To Survive! I need? Survive? You mean I can't just walk down a street like anyone else? What is wrong with society that every time a woman goes outside, we think it's common sense to give her advice as though she's going out on combat patrols?
There are a slew of videos wonderfully named "rape choke defense" that I found while trying to find the first hyperlink. Until today, I didn't know two hands on the throat was a "rape choke," so thank you, Internet, for that. It looks so very similar to a choke; I had no idea I was supposed to call attention to the lack of value society has for women by adding "rape" to it when you're choking a woman.
When I began martial arts, I couldn't talk about self defense with the terminology of a 30 year practitioner, but I knew why it was important to me: stress relief, testing my limits, it being exercise you can stick with long term as well as getting comfortable with an opponent in my personal space putting his hands on me. I think that's an off putting aspect of jiu-jitsu for many women, but I feel more comfortable having the training. It's not really about a theatrical fight scene where I knock out my attacker. I'd like to think that, instead, training will help me gain a few seconds to escape possibly or it may help counteract the impulse I and many women have to freeze up in an unwanted confrontation. Given all the positives, it was very hard for me to pinpoint my misgivings with men recommending self defense in response to sexual assault in the news. After all, it can really work! (See 2017 story of jogger fending off an attacker.)
On the surface, it seems like creepy marketing. There are some ground styles that sell a lifestyle complete with diet and a mindset that is reminiscent of religion: that this is not something you do, but it's what you are. You can take that or leave it. And then to bring in women, some of these styles emphasize or add self defense to round out their systems because what else is there to offer women? Equal respect and welcoming training space? Nooo. Self defense in the face of rampant toxic masculinity, of course! It leaves a bad taste in my mouth to be told or made to feel that it's my responsibility not to be attacked and on top of that, I should pay to obtain this life saving information. (Kind of like when you see free condoms being given out and meanwhile you're paying a luxury tax for tampons for something you wish you could abstain from... Google pink tax for more fun reading.)
Marketing aside, there's no denying the threat women face is real, though. The recent #metoo and #timesup movements should have made it very obvious that all women are at risk and are affected by misogyny that can manifest as violence. I don't want to downplay that at all. School shootings and other mass shootings of late are case in point. The common thread in these acts of domestic terrorism is, terrifyingly, white men with a history of domestic abuse. Since we can't solve this (and by that I mean smash the patriarchy) in a day, I can understand why both men and women might see self defense as a possible stopgap solution or a way to feel like you're doing something constructive when you feel powerless.
I was introduced to ho sin sool, or self defense, through Tang Soo Do. Being about 33 or so when I started, I hadn't grown up in it and so I absorbed all the quirks, personalities and trends of the sport through others who had - everything from the magical pressure point ideology to the differences between each martial art (it's not all karate, believe it or not!) to the women's self defense phenomenon. Self defense wasn't my primary reason for seeking out martial arts instruction, but I'm not going to lie - I was eager to find out what I could use to defend myself should I need it. I somewhat reluctantly* started Tang Soo Do in about 2010 (and later, BJJ) to get in shape and do something besides running which is really boring and ruining my knees. Fast forward to 2018 - I'm an enthusiastic (in my own way) chodan in Tang Soo Do and purple belt in Brazilian Jiu-jitsu.
*= we can talk about introverts and my feelings about joining groups in another post...
Being involved in martial arts, I have heard many a discussion about self defense: what are the best methods, different techniques for different attacks, applying the same basic motions to all attacks, weapon defenses, debates on the probability of actually restraining an attacker in real life, and on and on. I find it hard to speak up in these discussions because I worry that my conflicting feelings about the topic won't be accepted or taken seriously. Self defense is a fraught term for me as a woman. The concept is useful, but there's an uneasiness too. There's a fitness aspect as well as preparedness or confidence - that sounds empowering, right? But for me (and maybe many women) there is a persistent, unnamed dissonance surrounding it. Well, I'm going to name it.
My problem with the term "self defense" is this: it can be empowering or exploitative depending on who is wielding it and for what reasons. Learning it from two of my respected teachers in Tang Soo Do is empowering. Hearing some guy comment on a news story that girls need to learn self defense so they don't get raped feels like victim blaming and is the opposite of empowering. Both of these things bounce around in my brain when I hear "self defense."
The author of Rage Becomes Her, Soraya Chemaly (the inspiration for my blathering on about self defense in the first place) perfectly distills my feelings about the goals of self defense. I don't read many martial arts tomes, so I was surprised to run into the topic while reading about what to do with all the simmering and explosive rage that all women feel as a result of growing up socialized with sexism and misogyny. Naturally, there is a section about taking up boxing or self defense as an outlet. I was prepared for the usual advice on exercise being good for health and mood, which she gives in saying, "Studies of athletes show a strong correlation between body competence, self-esteem, and healthier anger expression." Check. I also guessed there'd be maybe even a suggestion to take up boxing to punch and kick the anger out. She does that - sort of - but I like the way she handles it by tying sports and self defense together accomplishing the same things. She really nails the discomfort I feel about self defense being advertised as a solution for rape or bullying and instead zeroes in on what she calls "body competence:"
"In sports, you are able to develop mastery over a honed sense of the potential of aggression, with or without anger, to alter your environment as well as what professor and cultural historian Maud Lavin (the author of Push Comes to Shove: New Images of Aggressive Women) describes as the "sheer physical joy of exerting aggression outward instead of inward." "
That's what it's all about: knowing what a punch feels like, knowing your kicking distance, knowing you can break a board or two, developing muscle memory and trained reflexes. It's more about learning and testing your limits or potential than defeating attackers. The techniques are no guarantee against a bigger attacker who has the element of surprise, size, strength, familiarity with location, weapons and everything else going for them. Also in an attack, so much is up to luck or chance. When you are attacked, chances are you won't be in a safe space with an instructor watching, on mats in comfy clothes, hands empty, brain anticipating someone grabbing you, and your attacker likely won't respond to you tapping out. The idea that you can in any situation fend off and immobilize an attacker with one hand and call the police with the other is not reality. If you want fantasy, you can use your library card. Ursula Le Guin is great. You can't control what this other person will do, but you can gain some understanding of your own body and what you are capable of, which, in turn, builds some degree of confidence.
Learning what you are capable of isn't always just a physical thing. We have to learn to overcome our silence in many ways. In a story that hits way too close to home, Chemaly in recounts the story of a Brazilian woman for whom the hardest part of self defense wasn't the physical part, but the yelling part (Brazilian Women Can Learn to Yell). I still have trouble making our kihap in Tang Soo Do forms. As in the article, I spent 30+ years making myself as small and polite and even as unnoticeable as possible, so it's a hard habit to unlearn. Equality in the abstract is an easy concept to grasp; actually taking up the space I deserve is an entirely different matter.
Since most stand up arts have a self defense curriculum, I get that people could think it's an unnecessary division, but women's classes can be a good place to learn from each other without the, at times, complicated gender/power dynamic. Despite the problematic nature of men making money off women's self defense to combat violent misogyny in a culture where male is the default, I do believe it can be beneficial for women to commiserate and turn anger at inequality into something constructive.
Women's classes have value. Self defense in general has value. We just need to be clear about the objectives and about what is being sold (and about what is NOT being sold).
Training and body competence are valuable; selling safety is a dangerous lie.
Chemaly ends with this, and I will too:
"The point is that you cultivate a strong sense of your body, its capabilities, and your use of it.
