Instant Decision

Draw attention to yourself. Sabotage your kidnapper’s vehicle if you can safely do so. Everything I’ve read about abduction, every video I’ve shown my children about kidnapping teaches this. One afternoon while stopped at a red light I was quite surprised to see a car’s passenger-side front door open. A pair of adult legs popped out but no person followed. The legs kicked a little. Something was wrong. I pulled my car over to the shoulder of the road beside the vehicle.

As I opened my car door I could hear yelling. My husband and I got out of my car. I cautiously turned towards the open door of the other vehicle. No weapons were evident – I’d have run away if there had been a gun. The driver had the passenger in a choke hold. Fortunately the driver didn’t have much strength, and the thickness of the passenger’s neck was a blessing. The passenger’s color was good, breathing was unimpaired.

I drew a deep breath and stared the two people down with my best “Mommy look.” With all the authority I could muster, I asked, “Can I help you?”

The driver yelled out their interpretation of what was going down. The passenger, still in a choke hold, asked me to call 911. I nodded by way of acknowledging both persons and backed off. I told my husband to call 911. I knew it wasn’t up to me to sort out their conflict – at least as long as nobody was in any immediate danger of losing life and limb.

I had already assessed my options and resources. Nobody got out of their vehicles to help me. Nobody so much as even positioned their cars to trap the assailant’s vehicle. Obviously I couldn’t count on anyone but my husband. Fortunately, the passenger was doing OK for the moment and the situation was not escalating. I distanced myself by going to the far side of my own vehicle and called 911 myself, keeping an eye on the two inside the other vehicle.

If I’d had help or if there had been a knife, I’d have tried de-escalation. If the victim’s breathing had actually been obstructed by the choke hold, I’d have intervened physically, backing off if a hidden gun or knife appeared. But one thing I really didn’t like about that situation was the prospect of a vehicle turning into a weapon. Any physical intervention on my part could have resulted in me being injured or killed by movement of the car. That said, I’d have intervened in a heartbeat if I’d thought the victim was in immediate danger. But as it was both parties calmed down. After a couple of minutes the passenger shut the door. They drove off.

I have no idea how their story ended. Hopefully they got to their home or homes all right. Hopefully they learned that their actions will get attention.

“I didn’t know what to do,” my husband admitted later.

“It’s OK. You did what was needed,” I assured him.

How did I know what my options were? I think I can credit Rory Miller’s book Conflict Communication: A New Paradigm in Conscious Communication. Heck, even my years in a customer-service job have to count for something. I’ve also had, to date, four other close calls in which I successfully avoided fighting. So I’m kinda getting used to that gig. But I give the most credit to – you guessed it – karate training.

Tournaments. Belt tests. Heck, even just an ordinary class when you’re sparring that one karateka who scares the bejeebers out of you (before you learn that he won’t intentionally harm you). The dojo (karate school) is a place where we can explore our capacity to deal with pressure in a mostly safe environment (injuries do occasionally happen). One learns to get control of that adrenaline rush, to instantly assess and decide, and to adapt on the fly. We learn what our limits are and to adjust accordingly.

I can’t fight a car. That’s one of my obvious limits. But is that limit so obvious to me if I’m half-drunk on adrenaline? Is the possibility of getting dragged, run over, crippled, or killed by a car obvious when I’ve got tunnel vision and that pounding in my ears? We’ve all been there, you know the answer is “No.” Many people recognize the onset of an adrenaline rush and they know what to do about it. Soldiers, police, firefighters, medics, and, you guessed it, martial artists all have their methods.

Then there’s the aftermath. This is when one’s body and emotions kinda crash for awhile. Even a minor incident like this… Whew. Yeah. I needed to process it. You guessed it – writing is very much a medium that works for me. The nice thing about writing is maybe someone else will benefit from the lessons I’ve learned and the mistakes I’ve made.

The Professionals – Part Three

Click here for Part One

Click here for Part Two

The local police department’s Citizen’s Academy wrapped up this week. I have already compared and contrasted police work and karate twice (see Part One and Part Two). Of course not everything I learned over the course of ten classes was directly relatable to karate. That’s perfectly OK – I enjoyed learning new things and making connections with people in my community. I had fun listening to people whose perspectives are different from my own. During the penultimate class, we found out that we share a deeply fundamental thing. By and large, we want to preserve our own lives and we are capable of making choices, for good or ill, pretty much instantly in a “him or me” situation.

For the next-to-the-last class, we got to experience a simple firearm simulation program. With the right software I can download, say, a clip from the movie “The Shining,” then, with a fake gun and a special screen, “shoot” Jack before he has a chance to sneer, “Heeeeer’s Johnny!” Or I can “hunt” velociraptors in Jurassic Park’s kitchen. That’s all fun stuff, of course, but think about this. I can also download actual dashboard camera or bodycam footage recorded on the scene of a real situation. I can compare my performance to actual policemen.

I know in one aspect I’d do worse than any given police officer. As of this writing I’m such a poor marksman that I can’t even hit the broad side of a barn. I don’t have the muscle memory to pull the trigger of a pistol properly, much less pull the pistol out of its holster without shooting my own kneecap off. My incompetence could change over time. With a good bit of consistent training and practice, I could be even more of a badass with a firearm than I am with empty hands. Some of my fellow students were good marksmen, firing neat little clusters of shots at the bad guys’ vital organs. But that wasn’t the point of our lesson at all.

Before my fellow students and I got to try out the firearm simulator, we spent about an hour talking about decision making and consequences. This was mostly about the standards that the police are held to and the options they may or may not get to employ before taking a life. Apparently, at least in my state, civilians are not held to the same high standards (see Washington RCW 9A.16.010 for what civilians can do). I need to ask if training in empty hand or firearms makes any difference for civilians. But one thing is for sure – police and civilians alike usually face civil lawsuits for their actions.

For the purpose of the lesson it didn’t matter that one participant clearly would have killed the baddie while another participant shot a wastebasket instead (hey, she did better than me). Three instructors and at least a dozen citizens, all agreed that whoever was “on stage” was justified in their actions. Everyone who tried the simulations made the right decisions – they got the baddies, they didn’t shoot if the baddie surrendered, and they didn’t shoot anyone they shouldn’t have. We all agreed on what the right thing to do was in every single scenario. Every single person who actually fired that fake gun at the screen made their decisions instantly.

So in one sense, I don’t think I have to worry at all about my ability to assess situations and employ my options. It’s good to have that confirmation of seeing my fellow humans make those decisions and to experience those scenarios myself. So far in my adult life, I’ve been able to avoid fighting. But if and when I do have to fight, there will be consequences.

Other authors have far more authority than I to write about PTSD. I don’t mean to downplay it by skimming over it. But PTSD is only part of the aftermath of violence.

In one of the scenarios shown when it was my turn to fire the fake gun, a guy suddenly charged towards the camera, intending to stab with a barbecue fork that he’d previously hidden from view. In that instant I had no idea that it wasn’t a knife. I didn’t know it was a knife until the scene was played again. Everyone in the room agreed that it would be nasty to be stabbed with a barbecue fork. Everyone in the room agreed that I was right to “kill” him even if he wasn’t holding a knife. But one of our instructors pointed out that the fact that I didn’t see that the barbecue fork wasn’t a knife could count against me in court. Also, the media could paint a picture of me killing a guy charging me with “a fork.” I joked, “Naw, they’d say it was a spork.” But that’s not all.

The same instructor pointed out later that it doesn’t matter that the bad guy’s family hasn’t talked to him in ten years – chances are the family will chase the money and file a civil suit. People who are lawfully justified in their actions to protect their lives can still lose civil suits. Yes, those same people could win, but still lose a lot. Who among us can afford a lawyer? Even insurance against such a suit, as some firearm owners have, could be beyond some people’s means. So – I could save my life but I could lose my house years later. Fair trade? If I were single, yes. But I have a family.

This is what our police officers put on the line for us every single day.

So, what does this mean for us martial artists? Be freakin’ careful. Duh. But more than that – learn the deeper lessons of your art. Self control is the biggest lesson. Self control helps keep you from shooting off your mouth or engaging in unnecessary violence. Of course knowing how to handle pressure and stress is a useful skill too. When you’re in as good a head space as you can manage, you’re more aware of your options. I’ll write more about that in my next blog post.

Police departments vary in where they draw the lines between levels of violence, but all departments have formal, written standards (usually accompanied by neat little charts or graphs). Us martial artists don’t have to write stuff up and accompany it with a cute little graph, but we are aware of which techniques do what and often we can vary the degree of damage. Some martial artists study weapons in addition to empty hands and so have more tools at their disposal. But there’s one tool that everyone has as their baseline. You should use it as your first line of defense IF you can.

Your voice. Every single self defense class I’ve taken or helped teach has stressed the importance of one’s voice. Yes, shouting to draw attention. But there’s more – provided you have the luxury of time and if you are dealing with someone who is rational enough to listen. I recommend Rory Miller’s book _Conflict Communication: A New Paradigm in Conscious Communication_. After class, us participants were invited to take a book home. Our host instructor had too many books, evidently. I gleefully chose _Verbal Judo: The Art of Gentle Persuasion_ by George J. Thompson. Maybe some day I’ll let you know how I like it. Yes, I had a literal takeaway, but I also had a very affirming heart takeaway.

I have faith in my own ability to make life or death decisions and to quickly employ whatever tools are appropriate. I had no problem reading the intent of the baddies and making the instant decision to preserve my life. I can trust my karate training. And as far as PTSD and civil lawsuits go – I’ll cross those bridges if I come to them. Forewarned is forearmed.

Capoeira Again

Long time readers of this blog know I love cross-training. Some of you might recall that last year I attended the one-off Capoeira workshop offered as part of my employer’s annual Professional Development Day. That workshop was so much fun I signed up again this year. What the heck is Capoeira? Here’s a very nice 5-minute video (start near the 1 minute 45 second mark). Obviously a one hour introduction to any martial art is only going to cover just so much ground. And if this year’s workshop was pretty much the same as last year’s workshop, what the heck did I learn?

I learned plenty.

There was one movement I learned which wasn’t covered in last year’s workshop. Someone I know who studied one of the Filipino Martial Arts described training with drums. The idea is to catch your opponent on the off-beats. I’d been wondering if Capoeira players do that. Yes, they do. We were taught one movement that is meant to throw the other player a bit off. I’d like to work out how to translate that movement into my jiyu kumite (karate free sparring).

One new movement… First-time reader, I hear you asking, “So why did Joelle say she learned plenty?” Long term readers know I learn way more than what’s on the surface.

As I said, this year’s workshop wasn’t much different in content and format than last year’s. Even my Hapkido buddy was in attendance again. But here’s the thing – I’m a different karateka than I was a year ago. And as a second-time attendee, I came with a different perspective. I paid attention to things I hadn’t noticed last year. I kept tabs on my internal world too. With any martial art, one learns about oneself through being pushed outside one’s comfort zone.

Ahhh yes, the comfort zone. Autopilot. Muscle memory. Folks, muscle memory can be downright annoying sometimes. I’d memorized Kanku Dai kata (one of our forms) last year, but obviously the lessons from that kata have sunk in deeper this year. I kept wanting to drop to the ground exactly like in that kata rather than execute a proper esquiva. Also, I’ve been practicing a drill in which I execute an inside crescent kick then place the foot down in such a way that the leg I’ve been kicking with becomes the back leg – i.e. that leg is behind me. What I needed to do for the Capoeira workshop is set the foot down to the side so as to transition into something else.

“You can put your leg behind,” the instructor admitted, “But…”

He trailed off, so I finished with a grin, “For the purpose of this drill, I need to step to the side.”

Sticking to the drill is even more important when one is working with a partner. My partner was a newbie to boot. Yeah, I know, pot calling the kettle black. Last year I was actually nervous about working with anyone other than a fellow martial artist (my Hapkido buddy) and the instructor. I’m totally fine with people who are new to the art of karate, have been for quite some time. But last year the idea of working with a newbie in Capoeira when I myself was unfamiliar with the material was a bit too much. This year I was a lot more confident about adjusting what I was doing to accommodate someone who hasn’t had any martial arts training whatsoever. I’ve not practiced any of the Capoeira movements I learned last year, so my ability to adjust obviously doesn’t come from long practice in Capoeira. Perhaps all those self defense workshops and other cross-training experiences have helped me become more confident about working on unfamiliar techniques with people who are entirely new to all martial arts in general.

What about confidence in working directly with an instructor who is from a completely different art? Last year I had a little anxiety about that. This year, no problem. I knew I could be myself – strengths, weaknesses, everything.

I even did something I didn’t do last year – I showed the instructor a little karate before class. I took the broom from him and swept the floor. I explained to him that this is the job of the lowest-ranked student. Which I was – I hold no rank in any system of Capoeira. Although one could use a broom as a makeshift weapon, there are no hidden techniques in sweeping the floor. This wasn’t the 1980’s movie “The Karate Kid,” this was me showing respect for the place where I train and for my instructor. That’s karate.

Perhaps some of you dear readers are wondering if I showed some “real” karate – in other words, did I bust out some cool karate stuff while I was in the roda? Why yes, I did. I started by respectfully entering the roda and following the instructor’s lead for the etiquette involved. Yes, that level of respect is “real” karate. Respect is the gateway to learning.

Instead of bowing to the instructor, I squatted down facing him, held my crossed arms out to his, and locked eyes with him for a moment. That moment told each of us what we needed to know about the other. We saw confidence, trust, respect, and curiosity. Last year I was a little too nervous to truly appreciate that formality. Right then it hit me that I’m a different karateka than the one who entered a roda for the first time last year. Last year I was just trying to function with the limited tools I had. This year’s play was different.

Of course I stumbled all over myself frequently. I’m a newbie, after all, and to top it all off I hadn’t been to a Capoeira class in a year. So what was different? This year I was even more keenly aware of the ways in which the instructor and I were keeping one another safe. I saw exactly how he was adjusting for me. I adjusted too, once. I tried something and ended up way too close to the instructor. I backed off because I didn’t know how a Capoeirista would interpret my intent if I did what I’d do on the tatami (karate mats). I wanted to keep the play light and fun.

A couple of times, my muscle memory took over at least twice. Instead of executing a proper Capoeira esquiva, I dropped as per Kanku Dai kata. Actually, that muscle memory did come in handy once. I misread the instructor’s intent and ended up dropping instinctively at the last instant to avoid his kick. It wasn’t pretty like in the kata, but I did it without even thinking. Yep, I’m coming along in Karate, but I’m a total rube when it comes to Capoeira. And that’s OK.

The point of me entering the roda was not to show off or to prove Karate superior (it isn’t – apples and oranges, folks). The point was to learn about myself, about the man in the roda with me, and about the art of Capoeira. While playing, I made different mistakes this year than last – and that is to be expected. I’ve barely learned a little bit of “baby talk.”

There is an element of “conversation” in Capoeira games, in karate jiyu kumite, and in point sparring (except a referee keeps interrupting the conversation during point sparring). I wrote about this underlying conversation in last year’s blog post. One year, one belt rank, and one gold medal in kumite later, I still need to improve my karate “conversational skills.” I strongly suspect I always will.

It might seem like going to essentially the same workshop as last year would be pointless. But the very nature of any martial art is you can always go deeper into the material. There’s always some new insight and/or refinement to discover. I’m seeing this more and more as I progress in my Karate. What I love about cross-training is I can compare and contrast, and in the process learn more about my base art. I wish I could do more cross training… Sigh… So many martial arts and so little time.

Butado – The Way of the Pig

A friend of mine posted on social media that she’d introduced her little girl to Jim Henson’s Muppets. Happy memories flooded my heart with joy. I know the thrill from both perspectives – that of the mother introducing her daughter to old friends, and that of the little girl reveling in the world of the Muppets’ vaudeville-style show. Because I am a “first generation” Sesame Street child, Henson’s creations have had a huge influence on me. For one thing, Henson taught me how to read before I set foot in Kindergarten. It’s quite possible that I was drawn to Karate because of Miss Piggy.

At the very least, Miss Piggy reinforced what was already there. Most two year olds, and I was no exception, cannot focus on anything for an hour. But I did once. My parents recently told me I was absolutely enthralled and delighted by a karate demonstration when I was two years old. Four or five years later I was always curious about the dojo across the street from the ice skating rink. What the heck did they do in there – chop boards and pummel one another all day long? Did they yell “hiiiiiiya” like Miss Piggy?

Miss Piggy was very much a product of her time. As a little girl, I saw her strength, both mental and physical. This was refreshing – by the time I was five years old I was heartily tired of heroines who were passive, weak, brainless, and easily frightened. Miss Piggy didn’t take any crap from anyone. For comic effect, Henson made Miss Piggy into a total and complete diva. I found her funny, and still laugh at her. But when I look at Miss Piggy through the filter of what’s going on in the world today, I realize maybe she isn’t quite the heroine I made her out to be when I was a child.

Jim Henson was always very much in tune with what was going on in society. He had a knack of distilling popular culture and social issues into something both children and adults could appreciate and laugh at. Children do have a sense of what’s going on in the world around them. And now that I’m an adult, I find “The Muppet Show” to be ten times funnier because I understand what was going on in the world during the 1970’s. Miss Piggy was a representation of what women of the time were striving to be. She was strong, independent, ambitious, and she was not about to mope around waiting for her love interest to take the initiative in the relationship. Nevertheless, “The Muppet Show” was a comedy variety show, and the humor of that time shaped Miss Piggy.

What we laughed at in the 1970’s is now widely considered to be inappropriate. Physical humor is becoming passé. Beating up one’s boyfriend is domestic violence. Many believe it’s no longer appropriate to laugh at someone who goes about sabotaging a rival’s work and bullying them. Aggressive flirting is often considered sexual harassment. To be honest, we’ve always known these things are wrong. What made us laugh is that Miss Piggy was completely over-the-top. Us women have always known divas are not the best role models. Laughing at Miss Piggy’s antics, though, was like releasing a pressure valve. Us girls and women felt the tension between what society said we were supposed to be and what we wanted to be. We laughed with glee because Miss Piggy got away with this stuff, whereas we constantly had to fight battles on so many fronts.

One of those fronts was the depiction of women as capable warriors in movies and TV shows. No doubt Henson watched Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris flicks, but I don’t think that’s why he gave Miss Piggy her signature karate chop. I strongly suspect Henson kept tabs on his prime time competition. “The Bionic Woman” and “Charlie’s Angels” were vying for viewers’ attention the same year that Miss Piggy made her debut. Adding karate to Miss Piggy’s character was Henson’s way of bringing in a whimsical element of physical humor that was in step with the times.

Miss Piggy’s karate was never meant to be taken seriously. Sometimes she does practice good bushido (the way of the warrior). We cheer her on when she sends the bad guys packing. But most of the time, she uses her karate inappropriately. Kermit, her boyfriend, is her favorite target. Miss Piggy hauling off and hitting people at whim has shaped many people’s perception of karate, whether they are aware of it or not. Every time us karateka hear, “don’t piss him/her off,” that’s Miss Piggy lurking in that person’s subconscious mind. I’m sure Henson didn’t intend for that to develop. Nor did he foresee a day when we’d have to explain butado (the way of the pig) to our children.

My friend’s little girl is growing up in a world that is totally and completely different than when I was her age. A lot of people no longer laugh at domestic abuse, bullying, acts of sabotage, sexual harassment, and random acts of violence. Probably a lot of younger parents, accordingly, don’t let their small children watch the Muppets. I can understand waiting until the child is old enough to understand fantasy versus real world. But what I don’t understand is forbidding the child from watching The Muppets altogether because of Miss Piggy’s butado. As their children mature, good parents will discuss age-appropriate topics that come up while watching Miss Piggy execute her famous karate chop.

My friend said her little girl was drawn to the way Miss Piggy fought off the bad guys in “The Muppet Movie.” Brava, little one. Keep talking to your mama about what you see Miss Piggy doing. If your mama needs me to help explain something to you, I’m here. When you are mature enough to handle a bit of hard work and sweat, and if you’re still interested in being a fighter, I should be a fully fledged sensei (instructor) by then. I’ll be there for you and I’ll teach you the difference between butado and bushido. Until then, keep laughing and keep learning those life lessons of joy and wonder that have always been at the core of Jim Henson’s work.

The Professionals – Part Two

Click here for The Professionals – Part One

As of this writing I’m four classes and one ride-along into my local police department’s Citizens Academy. I’m getting a little glimpse into what life is like for people who deal with violence as part of their profession. By comparing and contrasting and by looking through the eyes of my fellow Citizens Academy students, I’m learning some things about my own karate training as well.

I mentioned in my last post during my ride-along I learned that police officer training is extensive. The first part of our second class covered this training. I took notes – what’s covered, how many hours, etc. There’s even a probationary period, during which the new officer is constantly being evaluated while on the job. It’s all very impressive, but I was most pleased to hear is training is ongoing for our police officers. This isn’t just physical skills training, by the way. For example, laws change, procedures change, and sometimes there are new discoveries about human behavior. Most officers do more than the yearly 24 hours mandated by the state. I can relate to this constant refinement of skills and learning new things – or even different aspects of familiar skills.

What was surprising to me is that many (not all) of my classmates don’t seem to grasp just how powerful ongoing training really is and what the benefits are. Repetition, time, and being continually pushed outside one’s comfort zone might be utterly foreign territory for these students. How do I know this holds true for many of my classmates? I listened to their questions. I wish I’d written down the questions and the contexts for those questions, but perhaps something would be lost in the telling. Suffice it to say, the first question jolted me to the core. I realized that some of my fellow Citizens Academy students need a little help understanding things that I simply intuit. That’s not to say I can relate to all the material presented in the class – I can’t. But I do grasp some things at a very deep level.

The second half of our second class was about patrol procedures. This gave me a wider view of what I’d learned on my ride-along. A team of officers came to talk with us about this. There was a good bit of “show and tell” with the various tools of their trade. Using weapons to mete out violence is not something I grasp intuitively, as kobudo is not part of our curriculum and, of course, we don’t play with tasers, pepper spray, or projectile weapons in karate. I know for sure the two students grasped some things about these tools intuitively (a gun instructor and a veteran, respectively), while the rest of us needed a little help. In order to gain a better understanding of what the use of deadly weapons entails I started listening for the underlying themes woven throughout the “show and tell.”

Teamwork is not emphasized much in karate, but it’s vital to police work. The most I’ve ever done is I’ve taken my turn being one of two or three “attackers” in a sparring exercise. I have only the tiniest of inklings on how to help someone take a person down. Add weapons to the mix and I have absolutely no clue. But what I can wrap my head around is the value of training as a team. Ongoing, repetitive training with updates and innovations as needed – that I understand on the individual level. The police take this to the next level. Each person on a team knows their role and they’ve practiced different scenarios with all their weapons. No training is ever perfect, nor can anyone anticipate absolutely everything that might happen in any given encounter. But continuous training involving loads of time and buckets of sweat is powerful – it’s the foundation of any combat system or art. I know from competing in tournaments that it’s easier to adapt what you’re doing if you have a good, solid foundation. I’m convinced each team of our city’s police has a solid foundation.

Respect and trust are vital components of this foundation. In karate, we play with fire. We emphasize respect and trust so that our training partners are healthy and available to train with us next class. Police officers don’t just play with fire: they’re sometimes right inside an inferno with weapons that can kill at a distance. They have to trust that their teammates know their roles and have each other’s backs (so to speak). Respect for their leaders and for one another is crucial when the heat is on – there’s no time for arguing and petty sniping. Trust and respect are interwoven throughout the police’s extensive hiring process. The team that came in for “show and tell” didn’t explicitly talk about trust and respect, but I saw it was there. It was there in the non-verbal communication among team members. It was there in how they directly related to us students and with one another.

Us karate folks would say my city’s police practice good bushido (the way of the warrior). As one of my sensei(s) taught me just last week, you have to know the people you’re going into battle with. That’s what bushido is all about. You know your comrades’ training, you know their strengths, you know their weaknesses. You know you can rely on them. Not that anyone in my dojo is going to battle anytime soon – not like the police who, on any given day, could find themselves in a confrontation. That said, I know who will back me up if I’m ever jumped while stepping outside the dojo some dark night. And I know who to call after it’s all over.