April 14, 2009

Hanging with the Boys

Lately, at the dojo, I have frequently been the only girl in class. There are definitely more men than women at my dojo. When you break it out and look exclusively at brown belt and above, there are even more men than women. I grew up a tomboy and my best friend in high school was a guy, so this has never bothered me. I seem to get along better with guys overall. From a martial arts perspective though, I began thinking about whether or not the guys take it a little easier on me.

Last night, we were paired up and spent the entire night trying to wail on each other with bat-sized sticks. Whenever we do these drills, we ease into them gradually. We start by working out distancing. Our partner starts swinging at us when we're just a hair out of reach. Then we add movement, first small movement, then big movements. Finally, we add some evasive maneuvers and techniques to combat someone wielding a club or bat at us. By the end of the night, it's usually a sparring type situation that can get pretty intense.

I was partnered with a brown belt guy, who I believe has a black belt in another style (a heavily into kicking style). I like working with this guy; we seem to work well together. The drills went fine, and then it was time for the free-for-all stick swinging. He was taking aim at me and my first movement brought some serious pain with it for my knee. The quick movements, twisting, pivoting and off-angle stuff still freak me out and cause me some trouble. Yet almost every week, I've been taken out of my comfort zone for drills that start harmless enough, but end with me being a nervous wreck. I simply haven't figured out how to adjust to my knee situation. My previous stances are uncomfortable so I've been forced to find new ways to stand. Something as simple as which foot to put in front is now troubling and feels uncomfortable.

It's really difficult to think about the stick swinging at your head when you're more worried about your knee and messing it up again. After the initial tweak however, I was able to make it through the drill. I got hit a couple times (thank God we had switched over to plastic), and I mostly felt like a total idiot. Being a teacher and having previously done a lot of public speaking, you'd think I could handle a little audience, but the four guys standing on the side were freaking me out too. They're all good, and I feel like I'm not, so it can be intimidating.

Later, I watched the guys switch it up and continue going at it. When my partner was out there with someone else, it was intense. He was throwing in some good kicks and techniques and I was really impressed. I also got the feeling that he had been taking it easy on me.

This, for a girl, is good and bad. It's good because I am smaller than these guys. Even though I'm of similar height to most of them, I am definitely a light weight. I don't fit the typical body type of a female karate-ka, at least not most of the ones I've seen and been around. Despite months of busting my butt at the gym, there's nothing you can really do when your genes say you'll be a 5'9", 135 lb string bean. I've built muscle, but it's still on my spaghetti frame. So, for that reason, I guess being treated a little differently is good.

I also think the guys are cautious around me because of my knee. They know I'm terrified of being injured again, and so they approach drills with me with kid gloves on. I get that, and I do appreciate it. But I guess there's a part of me that wishes it was otherwise. When I watch the guys out there, throwing each other around, and getting intense, I'm a bit jealous.

That's never going to be me. I'm not the girl who will be fondly recalled years from now as "the scrapper." I doubt there will be any legends told about me and my skills twenty years from now. I'm feeling more and more like I'm the blend-into-the-background type of girl in the dojo and I'm not sure how I feel about that.

People comfort themselves by saying that there's a reason for everything and that things happen for a reason. I, for one, would like to know the reason for some of these things. Like the ACL injury, for example. What was the purpose of that? Was it to make me quit karate? Was it to make me appreciate it more? Was it a giant smack-down from someone above telling me I'm out of my league? I know it's made me into a person who enjoys going to the gym and working out, but how does that fit in with karate and how things go at the dojo? Right now, I'm not seeing how the working out has benefited my karate. Will it make me a better martial artist in the long run? Will it harm my progress because I'm afraid (rightfully so), and because others are afraid to hurt me?

I don't want to go to the dojo and get a beat-down each week (I seriously can not sustain another injury), but at the same time, my purpose for being at the dojo is primarily self-defense. If the guys are taking it easy on me, then isn't this doing me harm in the long-run? Am I now seen as the delicate flower of the dojo? If that's the case, I'm not happy about it.

Last night I got home and iced my knee for a while. Then I had Mr. BBM come swinging at me and I tried to take him down using one of the techniques we worked last night. Without him knowing what I was going to do, and without him taking a dive for me, I simply couldn't make it work. Granted, he is bigger than the guys I usually work with, but it's still frustrating when something that had worked only hours ago, now doesn't.

As martial artists, we need compliant partners until we've learned the proper technique and control, but are my partners being too easy on me when it comes to helping me make techniques work? Is it because I'm a girl? Is it because of the ACL injury? Am I doing the same thing to them? Unfortunately, I don't think there are any easy answers to these questions.

There's a new place for ACL bloggers to hang out. Go here and click "join."

The winners will be announced tomorrow for the AMA month prizes!

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