Nidan Grading: The Hazing That Wasn't

The grading was yesterday. It was easier than I thought it would be in spots and tougher than I expected in others, of course. My ribs and the intercostal muscles between them are sore from a few "taps" I received during sparring, but besides that, a small egg on my left leg (someone's bony shin went through BOTH of our shin guards) and a slightly sore great toe on my right foot, I feel great physically.

The format was almost identical to any other grading I've been a part of or witnessed: kata --> self-defense --> tamishiwara --> kumite. In total, it took four hours, but I was not moving around for all that time. Actually, after the invigorating (read: CUP EMPTYING) warm-up, I sat for almost an hour watching kata and self-defense presentations for all 20+ kyu graders and the two shodan candidates, which sucked, as I like to stay warm once I've warmed up/stretched. My back got super stiff and by the time I stood up, I was really tight.

Self-defense was the trickiest part as being attacked by a line of folks (one at a time) - as opposed to doing the techniques with just one uke - was a new grading experience for me. It was definitely "think on your feet time" and it went much better than I expected. I guess all the obsessing over it really helped, LOL.

The higlight of the day was breaking a board with an axe kick - something I've never tried before. When Obasan asked to hold the board for my kick, I was nervous for a split second about missing and actually clocking him in the head, but I forced it out of my mind, concentrated on a tiny speck on the board and let it rip. It was only one board, but it snapped like a twig. One of the other breaks - the same one I've done since my 6th kyu green belt grading: a reverse empi - didn't go so well as the first attempt sent my elbow skidding off the side of the board. Truth is, I was so pumped for the axe kick that I forgot there were other boards to break. Duh! - but the second effort netted a better result. It was pretty cool.

Like all the other black belts in attendance and in gi, I had to line-spar the kyus. Although it wasn't too taxing until we got to the under-belt teen boys (who all seemed to think it was a fight to the death, LOL), I still had about 12 or so 30-second fights before it was my turn to go head-to-head with the senior dans, so I was a little taxed. Each of my seniors started gently but turned up the dial quickly - although they all did acknowledge good techniques that landed, which was great. They were super encouraging, but a minute is a long time to tangle with a seventh-dan who outweighs you by a grip - and I had to do that five times before stepping into the ring with Obasan. Twenty-something and lightening fast, I just knew he was going to chew me up and spit me out in front of the family, friends, spectators and students that were watching. He kept setting me up for hight hook kicks (as in to my head) followed by the most amazing ridge-hand I've ever been hit by, LOL. Suffice to say I saw it coming but could do nothing to evade it at all. Not sure it was going to be my last fight, I was kind of leary about attacking him all out - and he made me pay for that with several strong reverse punches to my ribs near the end that made me pause for a second before I could put my hands back up. You know the technique you just got hit with was a good one when everyone in the room covers their mouth, grimmaces and says "Oooooooh!" all at once. But then the time was up, he hugged me and announced to the room that I was one strong, tough karateka. :-)

And then it was done. The same seniors who were beating me senseless a half-hour before were hugging and congratulating me. It was great to hear the word "Nidan" after my name for the first time, it really was.

One of my instructors was unable to make it to the grading. He texted me last evening to congratulate and ask how I felt. "Legitimate" is what I texted back. Because he was there when I began at the school as a brand new shodan, he knew that I had had a lot of correcting and "re-learning" to do when I arrived. He saw that there were things I should have known then but didn't, and he knew how I'd had to work to alter my path and get to where I needed to be. In other words, he knew exactly what I meant.

"You should," he replied. "Nothing was given. You earned it." That made me tear up a little. OK - it made me tear up a lot :-)

Off to place my new certificate in a frame :-)

Babes: Images of Female MAs

A recent post on the Martial Talk forum asked female martial artists to give their thoughts on how we are portrayed in the media via photos in marketing materials, websites, catalogues and the like. For a while, women were really getting into it and giving their thoughts and opinions on how they think the type of images seen the most are good or bad for the art.

Then a female member posted the above picture of Kyra Gracie and the conversation shifted to the sexualization of female MAs. And again, the comments from the ladies were well-thought out head nods in agreement or equally as well-thought arguments to the contrary. Not everyone thought alike, but how they expressed it was civil.

Then a few male MAs chimed in and my head almost exploded.

For the record, although BJJ is not particularly my cup of tea, I have mad respect for any woman who suits up and trains in anything martial - be it boxing, karate, Krav or Jujitsu. From what I understand, Ms. Gracie is quite the powerhouse with a reputation for being one of the best in her art. Note that I am tossing confetti and cheering loudly for her accomplishments - but I'd be lying if I told you that the above pic doesn't totally rub my feminist sensibilities the wrong way.

One guy in particular - a BJJ practioner - argued that Ms. Gracie has inspired many women to begin training AND that she is really a role model because she is beautiful, skilled, beautiful, feminine, beautiful and very good at what she does. Did I mention he thinks she's beautiful? To further illustrate his point, he later posted at least three pics of women in booty shorts, full makeup, low-cut sports bras in psudeo-sexual poses. All the pics, he said, were excellent examples of women in martial arts because they show beauty and health. When I argued that the main problem with the depiction of female MAs is the sexualization, objectification and the lack of diversity (where are the brown women? The over 40 women? the non-size 2's?), he told me that my disdain smacked of jealousy and was, in fact, degrading to women.

So there is no ambiguity here, this is what I tried to say on the thread in a nutshell: I have no problem with beautiful women who train (afterall, I AM a beautiful woman who trains! Not to toot my own horn, but I think every woman is beautiful). What I do have a problem with is the idea that the photographic representation of female martial artists is always petite, white, 20-somethings in sports bras and exposed bellies or in skin-tight dresses and heels holding exotic weapons in their manicured hands. When someone's ideal of a female martial artist reduces us all to eye-candy, realism goes out the window, IMHO. I don't care if said MA has gotten the whole world excited about the art she studies, if you push pics of her in a push-up sports bra that dips to her navel and gi bottoms below her hips, her "role model" factor will always take a back seat to how she looks. Period.

Since forever, beautiful women have been used to sell everything from floor cleaners to anti-depressants, using some advertising executive's idea of feminine/sexy to convince the world that the product or service they're hawking is necessary. But what it really ends up doing is making us all feel inadequate because we don't look like that (heck, NOBODY does these days as even leggy supermodels are Photoshopped to death). Statistics show that the self-esteem of adult women drops significantly after they spend just 10 minutes thumbing through a fashion/pop/celebrity magazine and too many girls as young as eight have considered dieting to loose weight. Perhaps there is a connection? I'm just sayin'...

I don't know personally anyone who trains in a pink gi, much less a skimpy sports bra and leggings, no matter what art they study - not that there is anything wrong with that, but to me, being a woman is more about draping myself in pink or wearing anything form-fittingly unpractical when I TRAIN. On the mat, I wear a gi - just like my male training partners and my sensei. In the gym, I wear bike shorts and a sports tank top, not to show off curves but to get my run/lift/crossfit on without dehydrating. Is it too much to ask folks looking for images for their karate equipment websites, catalogues and karate websites to aim for a little realism? Gheesh...

Meltdown: Path Full of Weeds

This picture is of my favorite flower, the Tiger Lily. Around these parts, it can be found almost anywhere there's dirt between July and mid-August. I guess that would kind of classify it as a weed, but because it is so colorful and hearty - and it won't grow in my yard, for some strange reason - to me it is has the same WOW factor as an Orchid or a Chrysanthemum.

Sometimes I see my martial arts training the same way. To me what looks all bright and beautiful is really nothing more than a weed. Right now, my pending nidan grading is starting to feel a lot like the weedy end of the spectrum.

The grading is only 11 days away. It seems like there is so much to explore/examine/tighten still that it can't all be done in 11 days. Just last night in class, we worked on tamishiwari - board breaking. We hadn't had the re-breakable boards or the makawari pads out in a while, but I was informed that I should have been conditioning my hands in preparation for the breaking my grading would contain all along. I had no idea there would be breaking because I've never been to a grading at my "new" school, although I always had to break boards at other promotions. So, in addition to the running, lifting, kata, self-defense and weapons training I'm somehow managing to do every day, I'm supposed to condition with the makawai X number of times a day per hand as well. Great.

I specifically asked weeks ago if there was anything I should work on to prep for the grading and makawari conditioning was not mentioned. It really isn't a big deal, but it really is if that makes sense. Eleven days is not a lot of time to condition at all, much less to plan board breaks that are fluid and "logical." I almost feel like I'm being set up to come up short, which isn't cool. Every day there seems to be a new surprise about what will be part of the grading. Last week it was the long line of senior dans that will be lined up for kumite near the end of the test. Honestly, it was beginning to feel more like a hazing instead of a grading. Isn't preparing for a new level supposed to be something that is enjoyed and looked forward to, not something that is dreaded?

I've heard all the arguments about how I wouldn't have been invited to test if my instructors did not feel I was ready, but today, I just don't feel ready. And I don't want to go into the test feeling like I could have used another month or two to refine and prepare. I've trained in some way, shape or form every day for the last seven weeks and frankly, I'm nearing exhaustion. I'm about ready to pick a spot on a map, drive to it and take a vacation from all things martial for a minute. Seriously - I'm THIS.CLOSE to bowing out completely.

Sigh...

#9

That's for Ippon Kumite waza ku, which, for a looooong time, was the bane of my existance.

Our ippons are simple one-step defenses from a straight punch. Number nine involves stepping back into a long stance with a high block before stepping in, "shearing" the carotid arteries and clasping the hands behind the uke's neck to squeeze said arteries. Next comes pulling the uke's head into your shoulder to both disorient and set up for a knee or two to the thighs or mid-section (whatever is available). Once your adversary is nice and woozie (remember, those carotids are still being squeezed), there is a release that is more like a slight push followed immediately by a double palm strike to the crook of the shoulders. It is quite beautiful in a violent sort of way when done correctly. When I did it, however, it looked like a sad, sad mess. Let's just say it more resembled the karate by the numbers that fellow blogger Michele discussed than it should have...

Part of the problem was that I learned it as an underbelt was totally different than the way I described above. It always seemed really awkward and ineffective in a "I would never do this technique in a million years" kind of way - because it was really awkward and ineffective. Always off balance when setting up for the knee strikes, I had to rely on physical strength, which meant it probably wouldn't have work for me on someone even slightly bigger/stronger. Because I hated it so, I worked it only in preparation for gradings when I'd need to show that I had a basic understanding of it, which I guess I faked very well. As soon as the grading was done, I stuffed it waaaay to the back of my toolbox and forgot it was there until the next grading was coming up. I know, I know...

But in the last few weeks, we've worked all the Ippons quite a bit in class as Sensei has helped us prep for our grading later this month by getting us to tweak and refine them so they are both sharp and effective. We all know they are just simple defenses/set-ups for other techniques from just one type of punch, but that set-up is where the good stuff begins. I see that now and it makes complete sense in a way it didn't use to before.

I always use to wonder why I needed to learn a lousey technique like number nine just for show. If I couldn't use it effectively, then what was the point? Trust me, I asked those questions when I was learning this technique at my old school way back when, but they were never really answered. Instead, it was communicated that the technique wasn't what was ineffective, but that the way I was doing it was. Back then, it WAS ineffective FOR ME. The adjustments that were made to make it a whole lot less of a strength-based technique helped me understand and actually learn to like it. Yep, the light bulb finally illuminated.

In these last few weeks, I think I've done this technique about 300 times. It is flowing much, much better, but I had to break it apart and slow it way down to make that happen - and I mean r-e-a-l-l-y slow. Last night in class, I had an "a-ha!" moment doing Ippon #9, which lead to doing it as close to smooth as I've ever done before - finally! - although that "OMG! I'm doing it!" feeling left as quickly as it came. One out of 300 is a pretty jacked-up average, I admit, but it is a start. That little glimmer of light gives me hope - and confidence to keep trying to work and eventually perfect it.

"Excellence isn't an accident, but a habit," educator Marva Collins said. "The thing you do most will be the thing you do best." Back to the shed to make number nine that habit I go.

30 Minutes

Let me preface this post by saying that track and field is my "other" discipline. As my family lined the streets of Manhattan to watch my uncle run the NYC Marathon when I was an eighth grader, I felt nothing but admiration for all those passionate people plodding along in their running gear. I signed up for the track team tryouts the next year and barely survived the first day. We only had to run two miles on the road and I was the absolute last person to make it back to the school. I didn't stop, but I do remember the person I ran with WALKING beside me - and keeping up. It might have taken me forever, but I somehow managed to keep going.

That ended up being a very good thing. I started high jumping after I made the team (turns out they didn't cut anyone that year) and fell in love with the sport. Thanks to a lot of hard work and a few very good coaches and camps, my jumping improved and track and field ended up paying for my college education. Success in NCAA Championships, Penn Relays and a US Olympic Trial followed.  I went through a lot of running shoes in those 20+ years, but believe it or not, I never really liked to run. I did it because 90% of the high jump is running. Never one to just lace up my trainers for a leisurely jog, I ran road races and competed on my school's cross country team to get stronger for the high jump. Today, I run so I can do what I need to do on the mat. To me, running was and still is sort of a necessary evil.

My honey is a nationally ranked track coach. He and his teams have won nine national titles and are known for all of the top athletes - including a national record holder and an Olympian -  that do very well in high school and go on to collegiate and post-collegiate success, due in large part to his tough workouts and high expectations. He and I actually met on the track while going through our respective divorces; he had just begun training at the field house where I was also training for another Olympic Trial run 12 years ago. So, of course when I mentioned that I wanted to tweak myself cardiovascularly before my upcoming nidan grading, he was all over it. "I could coach you," he told me yesterday. But my schedule is so crazy that I can't really squeeze in any additional training sessions. "All I'll need is 30 minutes a few times a week," he said.

This morning when we met in the gym, it took me all of 15 seconds to realize he was completely serious - and all about business. First - just to add to the fun - he had me lift weights before we got started which is totally opposite of my normal routine. He started me off with a 10 minute run on the treadmill at a moderate speed but a slight incline. Not only did he run on the treadmill next to me, he COACHED me the whole way, telling me how it was better to hurt now than after five of the 10 or so fights I'll probably have on grading day. After six minutes or so, my entire body went numb. I gently asked if we could go eight minutes instead of 10. He actually laughed and reference my track days of old. "You've been here before," he said oh-so-sweetly. I thought about giving him a back fist to the head but I swear, I couldn't lift my arms.

That treadmill was relentless. It was difficult. It was grueling. Plus my arms were screaming from the weights I'd just lifted. Then, he actually had the nerve to toss his shirt over the timer so I couldn't see how much time had elapsed. In my head, I called him a bunch of names, but I didn't have the strength to utter any of them out loud. My "Zen place" had totally left the building. Suffice to say it was not one of my better moments.

As the last few seconds elapsed, he told me I'd only have a three minute rest before staring 30-second intervals. On the treadmill. With the same incline. Only much faster. And the rest period was almost non-existant. The goal was four at a ridiculous pace but I couldn't complain or negotiate because it was time to get to work.

I truly love this man, but I was soooo hating him each time my meager rest period was almost up. He had transformed into the Gestapo right before my eyes. I wanted to kick his stop watch across the gym.

But I didn't. I kept running knowing that the pain would eventually end. And it almost did - except each interval was at a faster pace than the one before it. But before I knew it, the workout was over. He let me catch my breath before announcing that I still had a five minute cool-down to go. Yep, he's that tough.

When I was finally allowed off the treadmill, I looked at my watch. Exactly 30 minutes had passed since I'd started running. I'd survived but I still wasn't sure if I wanted to kiss him or kick him in the shins.

He hugged me and told me that Wednesday would be a little tougher as all the intervals would be a mile faster than the speed I'd run for my last one today.

So I kissed him. That was the only thing that saved his shins.

II

Well, I'm officially a nidan candidate. Got the word Thursday from Sensei after class. And yes, I'm terrified.

I had seen quite a few black belt tests by the time I was preparing for my own shodan grading, so I kinda knew what to expect three years ago. But as I've only seen two other nidan gradings ever - including training partner Ed's test last July (where he hobbled out with a broken finger and a broken toe) - I have much less of a visual reference to go on. Plus, Ed's test was during the grading of about 25 of my under belts and my duties for the day included getting them situated for their tests, which means I only saw his exam in bits and pieces. I don't even know the order of events, sadly.

Three years ago, I also had Ed and my son, Squirrel, to drill and train with because they were prepping to grade, too. This time, it looks like I will be on my own, which truly bites.

The area I need the most work in, I think, is "think on the fly" self-defense - you know the "What would you do if an attacker did THIS?"-type stuff. I dread that with a passion because the scenarios that work so well in my head don't seem to translate very effectively in real time. Really, I'd just rather run the heck away, but I don't think that will be an acceptable solution on grading day. Ed - who is shorter but has bigger hands and rarely gives me anything - offered to drill scenarios with me, which I am grateful for. But then he told me he has been instructed to forget we are friends and "put it on me" during grading kumite, meaning he and the others I'll have to fight - at least six other guys who are all fourth dan and above - will be trying to rip my head off. Just. Great.

I asked my Sensei if there was anything I should be focusing on to prep for the grading. He told me the test would be hard but to "just keep moving forward." What to do with such vague info is a good question.

But move forward, I must. Here goes nothing...

Suspicion

By now, everyone has surely heard about Trayvon Martin, the 140lb. 17-year-old who was shot and killed as he walked through the gated community of a relative he was visiting in Sanford, Florida. George Zimmerman - the 240lb. neighborhood watchman who said he began following the teen from his SUV because of his "suspicious behavior" - was the gunman, but although Trayvon was armed only with a bag of Skittles candy and a can of iced tea, Zimmerman claims he shot Trayvon in self-defense. Under the state's controversial "Stand Your Ground" law (which says anyone who feels threatened with eminent danger in a public place can use deadly force to end the confrontation), Zimmerman has not been arrested and charged with Trayvon's murder. And that has a whole lot of people outraged and upset.

Many of us are wondering how a big burley dude with a 9mm handgun could feel threatened by a teen he is chasing (according to the 911 tapes, Zimmerman got out of his car and chased Trayvon on foot before the shooting). What made the Black teenager seem so suspicious? Did he look out of place in the community of nice town homes and freshly manicured lawns? Or was it the hooded sweatshirt Trayvon wore as he walked from the store in the night rain? Was it that he ran from a guy who was following him or did the shinny can of tea look like a weapon? Since Zimmerman isn't saying much other than it was self-defense (he hasn't even really been thoroughly interrogated by the police), no one but Zimmerman knows for sure. To this mom of a teen who looks an awful lot like Trayvon, those are the questions that I wish were answered.

Every martial arts self-defense seminar I've ever been to has said that awareness is the very first rule of thumb. Zimmerman has said he was aware that this kid might have been up to no good simply because there had been a rash of break-ins around the neighborhood. We know he was way, way off base about that, but at the time, his "spidery senses" we're tingling. What the seminars I've been to all hint at is that being aware - especially in that hyper-vigilant sort of way - is only the very beginning of the story. How you process that awareness and determine if what you are aware of is cause for concern must come next. What follows that should be avoidance (or de-escalation if avoidance isn't an option), but it appears Zimmerman missed that part of the neighborhood watch training.

Please don't tell me how "going with your gut" is often necessary when sizing up particular potential dangers. I know that - still someone's son and brother is dead because another someone's gut was flat out wrong. All Black boys in hoodies aren't menacing creatures searching for prey is all I'm saying - and we all have an obligation to stop believing the hype and buying into that crap. There has to be a way to not lump every person/place/thing unlike you into a big ol' "suspicious" pile, there just has to be. Of course I hope my 18-yr-old son is never pegged as suspicious because he happens to look or sound different than the others who normally inhabit a space, but he just might be someday. And it makes me very angry that all I can do is hope he is never where some crazy fool with a weapon and an excuse doesn't think he should be.

But I also hope we figure out how to end this stupidity soon - before another person is killed out of fear, racial profiling or blatent stereotyping. I think we owe it to the memory of the teen who was pegged as suspicious just because he looked like he didn't belong.

Rest in peace, Trayvon.