Author: Joelle White

I began training in Karate in June of 2014 after a 27 year hiatus.

Surprise!

For the last ten months I’ve been cruising along, assuming I’d be testing maybe in October, maybe December, maybe even later.  In our organization, at this stage (brown belt) us students usually “marinate” for awhile.  Out of the blue, I found out my sensei(s) wanted me to test for 2nd kyu (“middle brown” in our system).

Surprise!

But that’s not the surprise I’ll be blogging about.

I reserved a motel room post haste. I go to Oregon a lot for Karate and had promised each of my family members a trip with me. It was my younger daughter’s turn. We spent three hours in the car, ate dinner at a favorite restaurant, relaxed in the motel room, then both of us fell into a deep, long sleep. We had a leisurely morning before I had to report for testing. I parked my daughter in one of the few remaining seats and handed her my camera. Alas, my daughter was too far away and too far back in the audience to get good videos of me. When I reviewed the video, I saw that the audience was not expecting to see what they saw during my sparring matches.

The moms and dads who were there to watch their kiddos test were surprised by what was expected of me and by my ability to meet the challenge. My age is pretty obvious – I have a bit of a tummy, a few silver hairs, and crow’s feet crinkle the skin near my eyes when I smile. I was also being very motherly towards a young adult who looks a lot like me. Yes, it’s reasonable for anyone to conclude I’m in my midlife.

All of us who were testing that day were put through our paces. Jiyu kumite (sparring) is always last. By that time I was quite literally dripping with sweat and I always get beet red during a workout. I was probably a rather alarming sight to those who don’t know that I usually look like that when I work out.

Here’s my observations of the audience’s reactions as seen on the video my daughter took while I was sparring…

There was some surprised chatter as I bowed in. Yes, us old ladies are expected to fight. Yes, I’m old enough to be a young auntie to my first opponent. Yes, my opponent was a yudansha (black belt). The match began and there were murmurs of appreciation for each flurry of fists and feet. My first opponent scored three times before I got my point.

After my opponent exited the ring, hesitant applause began.  The clapping ended abruptly and two or three people drawled astonished “Ohhh-s” when my second opponent stepped onto the mats.

People sat bolt upright. Up until this point, they’d seen their children spar only one opponent, then they were done.

My second opponent was another yudansha who is younger than I. She scored one point then I got my score. The audience wasn’t familiar with the referee’s calls, so they didn’t react.

My first opponent immediately came up for another round with me. The audience murmured, surprised at her return.

The guy sitting in front of my daughter, who was taking video, turned and looked right into the camera when my first opponent came up again. Clearly he was thinking, “What more do they expect of your mom?!?” He’d heard me reassure my special-needs daughter that the match would look scary but more than likely I’d be perfectly OK. He seemed to have his doubts.

First thing that happened in this third match was I went down – probably my opponent swept me but it’s more likely I tripped over my own feet. Oddly, there was not much reaction when I fell and came back up with a rather primal kiai (yell) – a roar of challenge. There was dead silence from the audience. The referee called a halt, I returned to my starting position, my opponent was awarded one point. When the match was resumed, someone in the audience gave an astonished “Ooooooo!” that rose from low to high in pitch, indicating that person couldn’t believe my tenacity and was amazed that I was continuing like nothing happened.

Throughout the rest of the match, only scattered murmuring could occasionally be heard – for the most part, silence reigned.   The match went on, interrupted from time to time by scores (hers), only one flag thrown (there need to be two flags for points to be awarded), and a foul (mine).  The guy sitting in front of my daughter shifted uncomfortably then leaned forward, watching intently.  The rest of the audience appeared to be holding its collective breath.

The audience was unfamiliar with the referee’s calls, so they didn’t applaud immediately when I finally scored a point. After I exchanged a bow with my opponent and backed out of the ring, the members of the audience realized it was over and enthusiastic applause broke out. A woman in the front row was particularly happy for me.

After everyone had sparred, the yudansha (black belts) went to the office to tally scores and confer with one another about the candidates. I put my gear back in my bag, swigged a quick drink of water, and gave my daughter instructions about video-ing the awarding of my new rank.

The guy sitting in front of my daughter asked me, “Why did they make you fight two black belts?” His eyes were open quite wide. I sensed genuine curiosity and just a little concern.

I grinned hugely, grabbed one end of my brown belt, held it up, and said, “This is why,” then explained. For the previous test, this test, and for all future tests I have fought with and will fight with three karateka in succession. Ideally these would be three women roughly my same rank and ability. But June is a busy month for a lot of people, so that day we had only two adult female fighters. It just so happened they outrank me. I told the man that I’m used to competing against yudansha (black belts) in tournaments and assured him that I don’t mind. “It’s all good,” I said. I gave him a huge smile, a thumbs-up, and a nod to emphasize my point, then turned away. Duty called: I had to help a more senior brown belt teach the white belts how to receive their certificates and new belts.

I’ve written about gender and Karate on this blog a few times (click here for posts). We’ve come a long way but there are still some interesting social views about lady martial artists – particularly about slightly-lumpy middle-aged matrons who enjoy “a strange little hobby of acquiring bruises for funsies” (as blogger Jackie Bradbury puts it). I have to wonder how the audience would have reacted had I been a middle-aged man sparring with other men. What if I were a young man sparring with other young men? Ah – trials that push one’s body and spirit are to be expected in tests for men, right?  But not for middle-aged ladies.  Clearly the audience was surprised by my gumption.  Why is it so surprising to them that I can spar three rounds with two yudansha and live to tell the tale?

The answer to that is complex. Part of the audience’s surprise lies in perceptions of what life as a middle-aged matron is “supposed to” look like. Hint – it doesn’t involve getting punched in the nose.  I’m also guessing the audience didn’t really understand what they were seeing. Sparring at my level and above looks a lot different than what one usually sees from lower-ranked children. It was fast and intense – the three of us ladies were ferocious. Even my daughter admitted she was a little scared – and she knows that most days I come home unharmed. It was obvious that my opponents didn’t cut me any breaks, and neither did the judges or referee.  One or two audience members might have been thinking that they didn’t know it was even possible for someone my age, gender, and (yes, I’m going there) body type to do what I did that day.

What I’m hoping is that some of those parents will see what is possible for themselves – Karate, yes, of course (I love adult beginner students), but to be quite honest I’d be over the moon if even one person thought to himself or herself, “Wow – maybe I shouldn’t let my fear get in the way of starting my own business,” or “Maybe I should finish that project and see where it leads me,” or even, “I should get my flute out of the closet and start playing again.” I hope they saw the power of the human spirit and I hope they realize their own power.

You’d be surprised at what you can do when you put your mind to it. Surprise yourself today.

Fourth Karateversary

June 3, 2018

Some martial arts bloggers like to do a yearly summary around New Year’s Day. I prefer to publish mine on or just after my “Karateversary.” You can read past years’ posts by clicking on these links:

First
Second
Third

I promise I have material in this post that I haven’t already blogged.  If you want to read more details about past events that I have blogged, look at the toolbar on the right side of your PC screen. Under the word “Archives” you can search for posts by month.

June 4 – June 30, 2017– 4th Kyu (High Green belt)

I made a trip to Oregon with a friend from Japan. Saturday we visited my organization’s hombu dojo for a very tiny class – and I was the only one of four who has not yet earned a black belt! The next morning we had a beautiful drive along a mountain ridge looking down on a valley filled with pretty farmland. I was glad my friend got to see one of the most beautiful places in America. We competed in a tournament and then headed home.

Advanced class was held outside one day. I got to experiment a little with fighting off two opponents at one time.

On the last day of the college PE Karate class I was surprised by being called on to perform a role someone my rank usually doesn’t play. I got to call out the techniques and movements for those who were testing for 10th and 9th kyu. I did OK for coming into this cold, just needed a couple of prompts from College Sensei. Fast forward a few months – during open practice time at my “home” dojo I was quite comfortable running some 10th kyu candidates through their paces for a mock test as my way of rewarding them for showing up to practice time.

I also accidentally harmed a comrade during class. As in a trip to the emergency room and stitches for something that was completely my fault. It took me quite awhile to work through my feelings and I received much-needed help from been-there-done-that mentors. There were differences in responses between gentlemen and ladies.  No matter what people say, our minds do work a bit differently sometimes. Back to the topic – I still think I’d rather be on the receiving end of a training injury rather than harm a comrade. Fortunately, my fellow student healed quickly.

July 2017

I’d been studying WKF tournament rules and observing officials at tournaments for at least a few months. During a belt test (I wasn’t testing) I was called on to serve as a fukushin (corner judge). This was my first time throwing flags for a formal event. Little did I know that a few months later I would earn my judging license for judging at tournaments!

Two days later my dojo sensei said he had is eye on either August or October for me to test for 3rd kyu (Low brown belt).

August 2017 – 3rd Kyu (Low Brown belt)

August 3rd I got word that I would be testing for 3rd kyu at Gasshuku (camp) later in the month. Earning my brown belt began a new phase of training for me. In the organization I belong to, we have “low brown” (3rd kyu), “middle brown” (2nd kyu) and “high brown” (1st kyu) before we test for Shodan (first degree black belt). The time spent wearing a brown belt is time spent actively training to be a sensei (instructor, or more literally, one who has gone before).

I passed my test at Gasshuku (camp) – barely.  Gasshuku was led by Elisa Au Fonseca – one of Karate’s superstars. It was, as always, a very valuable time for learning and for building friendships.

September 2017

Weekend practice times were devoted to helping the candidates for Shodan prepare for their test in October. These excerpts from my journal sum up my experience of training alongside them.

… I’m gaining confidence that someday I, too, will earn Shodan – and hopefully beyond. I have a LOT to learn and refine between now and then, but I’m seeing Shodan as not a nebulous “oh, yeah, maybe,” but a definite “I do believe I can!”

Of course being san-kyu helps, LOL.

The meaning of “Sensei,” one who has gone before, is really starting to deepen for me now.  I’m watching karateka who are making the transition, and I know I’ll be relying on their experiences when it’s my turn…

I’m definitely preparing for Shodan and beyond. I always have been, I suppose, but it’s really coming home to me now.

Later in the month I received word that the college class was canceled for Fall Quarter due to low enrollment. Fortunately, the college allowed the class to start up again in Winter Quarter.

October 2017

The karate organization I belong to holds our annual Godo Renshu (unity training) in this month. Godo Renshu starts off with belt testing for all levels. I was a sparring partner for two candidates during their tests, including one candidate for Shodan. I always regard this as an honor no matter what rank the candidate is testing for.

Later in the month I attended a seminar by George Kotaka and, next day, competed in a tournament.

As part of Professional Development Day at work I had the option of attending a basic self defense seminar. Because the techniques were very easy for me I spent the majority of the time analyzing how to teach  and how the students were reacting to and executing the material presented. I have a dream of someday teaching one-off self-defense seminars in addition to teaching Karate.

Sadly, we lost a dear 4th kyu man from my dojo to cancer this month.

November 2017

I know that my blog is full of sunshine and cheer. Sometimes I do open up about my foibles and failings. But I don’t remember ever sharing raw grief, livid frustration, or deep sorrow. As I look through my personal journal for November I see a lot of heartache. I don’t want to go into details.  I just want my readers to know that my Karate journey isn’t always a walk in the park. Quite frankly, in my blog I want to dwell on the positive, not the negative. So please forgive me if I give a false impression that everything’s always hunky dory. Rest assured, my Karate journey is a very human one. November 2017 was particularly difficult. I came through it, and over time I’ll see the lessons I learned.

That said, there was a big bright spot during the month of November. I attended a more advanced self defense seminar. I found out I have been building a good solid foundation. I tried ground work for the first time and after a few tries it no longer felt alien to me. After I earn Shodan (first degree black belt) I’d love to cross-train so that I can teach this stuff.  I came away with a deeper appreciation for my base art.

December 2017

I had been eagerly anticipating brown belt training ever since I first heard about it. I attended my first in early December. I enjoyed being one of the lowest ranked in class – I always like this because I know I’m being challenged and learning a lot. I combined this trip to the Hombu Dojo with a family weekend getaway. That night we watched a Karate friend perform in a Taiko drum group as part of a Christmas concert. Taiko is very physical, and I admire my friend for performing after successfully testing that morning.

Our annual holiday banquet was, as always, a great time for bonding and looking back on the previous year. I was surprised by being named Adult Student of the Year for my dojo, mainly for my diligence in setting up mats before class. This goes to show there’s honor in even the most humble of tasks.

January 2018

We had enough students signed up for the college PE class to start a new quarter. It was good to get back into that groove again, especially now that my belt rank finally matches the role I’ve played there since February 2016.

Our organization and sensei(s) at my “home” dojo needed to work some things out with the rec center that hosts my “home” dojo. While this was in process, we didn’t have class during the month of January. Long-time readers of this blog know that I have lots of connections with the dojo(s) that belong to this organization. I was granted permission to train at a sister dojo during this month.

I hadn’t visited this sister dojo in quite some time because the class schedule had changed to the same evenings as my “home” dojo.  Classes at this sister dojo are small and intense. I fine-tuned my newest kata during my month’s sojurn there and got to test myself sparring with karateka whom I hadn’t sparred against in a year or more.

I drove down to Oregon for the first workout of the new year at our Hombu Dojo. This was the first class I’d ever attended under our organization’s head Sensei. That was both fun and an honor!

January 14 marks the day I saw one of our sensei(s) for the very last time. He was on hospice, his long battle with cancer very nearly at an end. It was an incredible visit and I will cherish the memory.

On a lighter note, I learned how to tie a double Windsor knot in preparation for wearing a judge’s uniform while earning my first license to judge at tournaments.

February 2018

My second brown belt training! Hooray!

I earned my USA-NKF Judge D license. This opens up an entirely new aspect of Karate for me. I passed up an opportunity to compete in my state qualifier in order to concentrate fully on earning my credentials. I made up for that latter by competing in another state’s qualifier in May.

The sensei who I visited for the last time in January passed away. This was our second loss in five months, both to cancer.

March 2018

One of our organization’s highest ranking sensei(s) came from out of state not only for the memorial service but also to lead a class in memory of the sensei we lost in February. We fine-tuned the Pinan series of kata, which is what he used to have his students do on a regular basis at his dojo.

I chose not to attend the memorial service. College Sensei absolutely had to be there, but the service was held during his class. With permission from him and from the college, I was his substitute teacher. This was my first time teaching with absolutely no yudansha (black belt) within a five mile radius.  My primary motive was to pay tribute by stepping up to the plate to fill a need. Also, I thought it was important for the students to have continuity – especially because there were only two more classes left in the quarter. I had help from an 8th kyu young man and I came away with a new appreciation for the role I normally play as assistant instructor and uke (LOL).

March 17 I attended two seminars. March 18, I played three roles in our organization’s annual tournament in Oregon. Volunteer, judge, and competitor. I’m still tickled pink about interacting with some of the top names in Karate!

April 2018

For the first time in our organization’s history, us brown belts got a weekend retreat all our own. A number of our yudansha (black belts) came to help out as well. Sure we had training time, but we also were given a good amount of time and some ice-breaker activities so that we could get to know one another. Our founder shared his life story and all I can say is I am amazed at all the twists and turns and how everything has turned out all right for him. I am looking forward to next year’s brown belt retreat!

During the retreat I learned of a women-only class. Later in the month I drove down for their belt test. The sensei in charge of grading gave us visiting brown belts grading sheets. We did not actually grade anyone, but we were simply practicing for when we ourselves will have this honor. At one point I got to set my clipboard and pencil aside in order to spar with two candidates for 2nd kyu (one rank above me). The women of the dojo adopted me as a sister 🙂  I even got to hold a baby!

The day before I visited that class, I served as a judge and competed in a local tournament. My division was called late in the day so I got plenty of time in the chair throwing flags. Tournaments are great for meeting people, and I did make some new acquaintances.

May 2018

I made up for not competing in my own state qualifier by competing in the Oregon State qualifier. I was way too worked up about the competition to judge. I was lumped in with younger ladies – whatever.  I still qualified for USA Karate Nationals in July and I had a great time. It’s great to see friends from other organizations and to chat with karateka from sister dojo(s).

I made up for not judging at the Oregon tournament by helping out with a tiny local tournament. This tournament was for children and officials alike to learn and grow in skill. Boy, did I ever learn! Not only did I judge, I refereed matches for the first time. I also judged Sumo, which I’d never even so much as watched on YouTube before.

College Sensei’s vehicle broke down, so I substitute taught the college PE class again. Different quarter, different students than last time I substituted. Fortunately, the previous class day, College Sensei had run the students through their paces to assess where they were mid-quarter. I saw some general trends. So when I got word that I would have to teach, it was very easy to come up with a lesson plan. College Sensei was satisfied with the students’ progress when he returned.

Towards the end of the month I twice substitute taught the Intermediate class (no-rank and 10th through 8th kyu) with help from fellow brown belts and 4th kyu students while our sensei was on vacation. It seems like I’ve been doing a lot of substitute teaching in recent months. I’ve substitute taught the new beginner’s class two or three times, the college class twice, and now the Intermediate class twice. It’s quite a responsibility!

June 3, 2018

Now for how I celebrated my fourth “Karateversary.” One of our organization’s higest-ranked sensei(s) came from Oregon to teach a seminar at my “home” dojo.  A bunch of our yudansha (black belts) came as well – it was so good to see them!  We started with a drill, built it step by step, then worked on what we learned with one partner on “offense,” one on “defense.”  The two hours flew by.  I was glad for this opportunity to learn something new to use at Nationals.

All in all, this has been an incredible year for me. Being a brown belt has opened up new doors. I’ve had a lot of fun along the way, and I know I’ll find myself in new adventures. I’ve made the commitment to train for and go to Reno in July for USA Karate Nationals – my first time. Stay tuned!

 

Beyond the Comfort Zone

About a month ago I was invited to help with a small tournament about half an hour’s drive from my house. Another karate organization was hosting this tournament in the gym of a private school. The little tournament, held this past weekend (5/19/18) was for children to learn about what a tournament is like in hopes of generating more interest in competing in regional, maybe even National, tournaments. I thought it was a great opportunity to get more experience with judging, especially because I didn’t judge for the Oregon State Qualifier in favor of focusing on competing.  Yes, I got the judging time that I was after, but it turned out I got so much more. It was a much-needed kick out of my comfort zone.

I earned my USA-NKF Judge D license in February  and so far I’ve been declining opportunities to do more than what I’m actually licensed to do. At local tournaments it’s OK for a Judge D to do more than just throw flags. I have to confess I didn’t study all the things a referee needs to know. I had not practiced the hand signals and calls that a referee uses. Up until this little tournament I was coasting along, worrying more about developing an eye for good points than anything else.

I arrived early and helped out with a few last minute chores. During a break I was informed of my duties. I was to referee as much as possible. My dismay at the prospect of refereeing was quite obvious.

“I haven’t studied how to be a referee!” I whined at the tournament organizer.

“I read your blog. I know how much you value learning. This is a time for you and others to learn. You will make mistakes. We all will make mistakes. That’s OK. This is not a high-stakes tournament. I wanted this to not only be a learning experience for our children, but also for you and the others who will help out today. Now, do you know how to start a match?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to stop a match?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to call points?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to resume a match?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to close a match?”

“Yes.”

The tournament director assured me those calls and signals were enough to start with. I was assured that the kansa (who oversees the judges and referee) would prompt me when needed. Most of all, I was told that nobody was expecting me to be perfect – in fact, it was a given that I would make mistakes. This was a time and a place for me to do exactly that, and to learn and grow in my skills. Both gentlemen who were serving as kansa(s) for the two rings were kind enough to walk through a match between imaginary contestants with me for a few minutes. They gave me some much-needed feedback and then went back to overseeing the final preparations for the day. I spent time rehearsing some things on my own until the start of the tournament.

I was surprised when I learned that one of my fellow students from my own dojo would be refereeing for the first time that day too. She has worn a judge/referee uniform more often than I have, so I had always assumed that she had refereed at least a few times at local tournaments. Nope – like me she had only ever thrown flags and had declined opportunities to referee.  I was glad someone else was in the same boat I was. We reassured one other and cracked jokes. I felt much better.

Competitors were divided into age groups. Kata (forms) are performed first. Judging kata is coming much more naturally to me than judging kumite (sparring). For kata competitions there are five judges. One sits front and center, the other four sit at the corners of the mats. After two competitors complete their kata(s) the front and center judge calls for a decision, gives two blasts of the whistle, and all five judges lift either a red or blue flag to indicate which competitor they are voting for. This sounds simple, but… The front and center judge has to be aware of when the four judges have taken their flags off their laps and are ready to signal their votes. The front and center judge has to lift his or her flag at the same time as the other judges – which means delaying a little after blowing the whistle. I’d had a little practice with this at a tournament last month and got more this time around.

Refereeing sparring matches is a whole ‘nother ball of wax. The section for kumite rules in the WKF rulebook  is a heck of a lot longer than for kata. There are quite a few calls and hand signals that a referee needs to know, most of these are for calling warnings and penalties However, we were using modified rules – we simply gave a verbal warning on the first offense. I personally didn’t need to use signals for warnings because none of the competitors I refereed repeated their fouls. Overall, the number of actual warnings were rare owing to the good sportsmanship exhibited by the children.

The ideal situation for sparring competitions is to have four judges sitting at the corners of the mats and the referee moves freely around the mat – and, of course, there will be a kansa to oversee the officials. At one point we had only a kansa and three judges/referees. I’ve seen this situation in every tournament. Some officials get sick. Some leave to coach their students. Some officials go on break (especially lunch break). Some have other places to be in the afternoon. Crazy people like me both work in the ring and compete. When there are four corner judges, the referee does not get to vote on which competitor has scored a point. I was thrown for a loop when, later in the tournament, we were down to two judges and me. Suddenly, I, as referee, had a vote.  There’s a hand signal to go with it that I most definitely hadn’t practiced. I still need more practice with this situation. I was grateful for the feedback and tips I received.

The growing and stretching and moving beyond my comfort zone didn’t stop at refereeing. No indeed. The dojo(s) (karate schools) these kids are from also teach a form of Sumo wrestling. I backed out of judging Sumo at first, but after watching a division, I understood what merited a score and how to signal it. So – yeah, suddenly I was judging a form of fighting that I’d never even watched before. I have to say that watching those nimble young kids grapple was fun. No, they didn’t wear, um, whatever that’s called around their loins – they simply wore their gi(s) (uniforms) and head protection. It looked like fun and a lot of hard work. I never in a million years would’ve guessed that someday I’d judge Sumo bouts!

I also learned about giving the athletes their medals. I hadn’t thought about it or noticed it before, but there are little things that make this ceremony go smoothly. After one division had done their kata, kumite, and sumo, I had the honor of actually hanging medals around the athletes’ necks as their parents looked on proudly. I hope we succeeded in getting these children and their parents more interested in tournaments.

Sure I was a little nervous, but I grew more confident as the day went on. I knew my kansa had my back. And yes, I messed up. But so did everyone who stepped into the role of referee that day. No harm was done, and we all learned and grew in skill. That was the whole point. I was very impressed that most of the judges were children. They were good judges and they were every bit as mature as us adults when it came to gracefully accepting feedback and learning from mistakes.  My friend from my own dojo did very well too.  She was working in the other ring, but from what I saw she refereed most of the matches – even the Sumo matches.  I think all of us were more confident at the end of the day than we were at the beginning.

Because this was a tiny tournament, we were done in the early afternoon. The two karateka from my own dojo had places to be and so took their leave. After cleanup I was the only representative of my organization to go out to lunch. Having fun trying new types of food, discussing the competitions, and talking shop was a good way for us to strengthen ties with one another. We have been and will be working together for a lot of tournaments to come.

This time that I invested went way beyond just myself. Of course there were personal takeaways. Yes, there was growth in my skill. I experienced far more growth than I originally anticipated. But so much more was accomplished that day by everyone, not just myself.  The children were happy, their parents were proud. Those of us who were officials invested in one another and reinforced the ties between our organizations. We’ll see the effects of that day for years to come. Who knows? Maybe this was the first tournament for a future Olympic athlete.  It was an honor to be a part of this event.

Not Fair!

Note: Some of these scenarios are real, some are fictitious. I’ll leave it up to you to decide which I’ve seen happen to others, which I’ve experienced directly, and which I’ve simply made up.

He is a new beginner who has to work hard to overcome the weight of his own body. His opponent is shorter but lighter, faster, and three belt ranks higher. He moves as best he can, never quitting even while his lithe opponent darts in and out, running circles around him. NOT FAIR!

He learns to anticipate his opponent’s next move and lands a solid punch.

Two tournament divisions are too small, so they are combined. Ladies with only three or four years of training are competing against women with a decade or more of training. One of these more advanced ladies has won medals in international competitions. NOT FAIR!

They learn they are ready for the pressure of their next belt test.

He is three ranks above her, is stronger, faster, and a little taller than she. They are sparring. He grabs and holds her gi sleeve while pummeling her face (but with enough control so that it doesn’t leave a mark). Such an act is against tournament rules. NOT FAIR!

After class he teaches her how to get out of that situation. This could happen in the ring, in class, or even in the street. She learns something useful.

After warm-ups, she is not needed in her role of assistant instructor, nor has she been given an order to work on her own kata while the instructor evaluates the beginner class’ grasp of basic material. She hurried directly from work to class to help teach, and now she’s just standing there. NOT FAIR!

She spends the time silently pretending she’s the instructor. She notes who needs help with what. She watches for trends in the class as a whole. She moves around quietly if she needs to see something better. Whenever the instructor gives feedback, more often than not she noticed the same things.   The next class day, the instructor’s car breaks down.  She teaches class.  The students work on exactly the things they needed to improve on.

He has an injury and can’t do the drill. NOT FAIR!

He and his partner modify the drill and their instructor approves. Both learn something. The instructor learns something too.

The instructor is sick, so a senior student teaches the beginner class. After class, the parent of one of the students complains that he paid for a third degree black belt to teach and asks the front desk staff to refund the cost of that class. The senior student happens to walk by and hears everything. NOT FAIR!

Unbeknownst to that parent, the child had a breakthrough during that class. The next class day, the instructor comments positively on the child’s improvement and the senior student smiles with pride.

There’s been a disturbing trend in parenting for the last twenty five years. I stubbornly resisted it while raising my own daughters. Everyone has to feel good. Everyone gets a trophy. Everyone gets showered with praise even for deliberately weak performance. We have to be “fair” to everyone. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve learned from this movement. I am more ready with praise than I would have been otherwise. I am more patient and more willing to see how I can help someone become better. But I have a problem with the attitude that everything should be easy and “fair.”

We learn a lot of life lessons on the mats. The biggest lesson is how to fight oneself. Our egos take more of a beating than our physical bodies. I know very well what it’s like to have a little voice inside me screaming, “NOT FAIR!” News flash: that thug on the street won’t play fair. Self defense is one of many reasons why we train, right? Sure we learn the physical skills to shatter joints and damage internal organs. More than that, we learn the mental discipline that it takes to deal with situations that are not fair. If we can’t face those situations on the mats, how are we supposed to deal with life itself?

Life, more often than not, isn’t fair. I’m two years shy of half a century spinning around on this planet, so I know what I’m talking about. The dojo is a place where we are put under pressure and we come face to face with our strengths and weaknesses. We face a lot of “unfair” situations and, if we’re persistent, we come out better for having been through them. Quite often, someone will come alongside to help. Sound familiar? Yeah, sounds like life.

Accessibility

We live in a diverse world. For decades, many Americans have been laboring at the arduous task of shifting our culture towards inclusion. What does this mean for Karate? We’ve made a lot of progress – just look at how many women are top athletes and instructors in an art that has, historically, been reserved for men. One of Karate’s best achievements is inclusion in the 2020 Olympic Games – obviously we’ve embraced the world and reached many different cultures. These fantastic developments are readily apparent, but there are some other people groups that I’d like to highlight. These groups may not get as much attention but they are, nonetheless, included in the Karate world. This is all from my experience, and I’m amazed that I’ve already had this much exposure to the world that Karate has become. I do admit that my perspective is limited to only not quite four years of study and to my own cultural biases. I’m hoping to spark constructive dialogues and ideas.

Gender has always been a hot-button issue. Like it or not there are many physical differences between men and women – and I’m not talking about “equipment,” I’m talking about structure, which muscle groups tend to be stronger, and how the body develops athletic abilities. To be perfectly honest, I think there are advantages and disadvantages either way. Now – what about an issue that has hit me square in the face at the Karate program at the college? Yep – transgender individuals. At the level of the dojo, this is easy. We wear the same clothes, we sweat together, we respect each other. It should be a non-issue. But what about tournaments? Are we willing to let people register as male or female without a murmur of protest? I have mixed feelings about doing away with male/female tournament divisions. On the one hand, we train together, so why not? But would competing together cause more problems than it would solve? Quite possibly. In some societies there are taboos centered around gender, and competing together would exclude some people groups.

I work and help with the Karate program at one of the most diverse college campuses in the nation. I’ve helped teach male students who, due to culture, do not want me touching them. A shinai might be appropriate for me to use when working with these young men, but so far I’ve been able to work around their restrictions. I’m just happy they respect me and follow my instructions. I also know there are women-only Karate classes. No men are allowed inside the dojo and the windows are covered. According to the WKF rules, women may wear approved hijabs.  We have yet to see a similar concession for men who must cover their heads.  For some women, though, a hijab alone is not enough so they refrain from competing.  It’s already a huge cultural shift for these women to be training at all!

What is also a huge cultural shift is the notion that we can accommodate the various challenges, both mental and physical, that are out there. I’m particularly sensitive to this because I am the parent of an autistic adult. I’ve also trained with and helped teach students who brought various physical and/or mental things to the table. Any group learning situation that has deadlines for students to meet is going to automatically make life difficult for both the “out of the box” student and their instructor. One-on-one, student-paced instruction is ideal for anyone, actually, but especially for those who need a little more help.  But even just having an assistant instructor available during class plus investing time before and after class helps a lot. Still, realistically, there’s only so much an instructor and their assistant can do. Just like everyone else, these differently-abled students must own their own growth. But we who teach or help teach can point the way.  We can come up with ideas and we can offer our support, respect, insight, and ingenuity.

What does all this mean? It’s on me to adjust because I am able to adjust. Some students are limited in how much they can adjust, therefore I’m the one who should meet them where they are.  I am from a flexible, innovative society. I have knowledge of how people learn. I am sensitive to gender and culture. I have ingenuity and a willingness to experiment. Why do we expect those who are different from us to become “more normal” when we ourselves are the ones who have the ability to change? Obviously if Karate doesn’t click for someone, it’s not meant to be. But as long as someone is respectful and is making progress towards their next belt rank, does it really matter if they are trans, have cultural taboos, are autistic, or a dwarf ? I don’t think so. I’ve seen how people make Karate work for them, and I myself have flexed to accommodate. Accommodation without sacrificing quality is just one more challenge for us as students and instructors to embrace. And meeting a challenge is what all martial arts are about, right?