Who Gets to Be Strong?

When I speak to women about self defense and their ability to fight back, I sometimes get told “It’s different for you because you’re big.”

It’s true that I am larger than the average woman. I am, in fact, about the size of the average U.S. man – or was, at least, until I began some of the inevitable shrinking that comes from age. I also have a pretty classic mesomorph body – sturdy, broad-shouldered, and so forth.

I am, in fact, larger than Mitsugi Saotome Shihan, under whom I studied Aikido for years, and was, in fact, also somewhat larger than my karate teacher back in the 1980s, who I think was around 5’7” and weighed about 140. It should go without saying that both of them could kick my ass, and still can, even though they’re in their late 80s now.

Which is to say that one thing spending half my life in martial arts has taught me is that size doesn’t matter. In fact, part of the lore of martial arts is that training makes it possible for small people to fight effectively.

Size can be intimidating – I’ve had large male friends explain to me that they never got into fights because no one wanted to start trouble with them. Though come to think of it, that was guys who were basically good natured. Guys with a chip on their shoulder tended to get into trouble no matter what size they were.

I might be big enough to telegraph “not worth the trouble” but I’m certainly not big enough to be intimidating to troublesome guys. But I do also have an attitude.

You can be small and still have attitude. I still remember back in my early days of Aikido coming into the women’s dressing room and hearing one of my fellow students – who was maybe 5 feet tall – say, “I was training with this guy who didn’t think women could do this, so I threw him over there and then I threw him the other way.” She was demonstrating hand movements as she spoke and I recall thinking that I was going to be very careful when I trained with her.

Here’s another thing: no one ever takes me for a man. I mean, I’m large for a woman and my voice is relatively deep – I used to be an alto, but my singing range is more tenor these days, maybe almost baritone. Not to mention that I’m loud and I’m hard to shut up.

It might be the hair – I have lots of it. Or my hips. Anyway, something about me tells people I’m a woman, and no one ever assumes I might be trans. Continue reading “Who Gets to Be Strong?”

On Talent and the Physical

I used to believe that only people born with natural talent could do physical things. And I knew I wasn’t talented.

When I was five, the doctor recommended ballet classes because I had problems with my ankles. Ballet isn’t a particularly good exercise for weak ankles, but it was one of the few physical classes available for girls back then.

My teacher put me in toe shoes. Clearly she didn’t know anything about strengthening ankles. Toe shoes probably made my ankles worse.

I don’t remember much about those classes, but I came away knowing I wasn’t talented.

I was always one of the tall kids, so I figured I could play basketball (even if my parents thought it was silly). The PE teacher told us that anyone who could run a mile around the track could play basketball, so I did it, only to discover that the test only applied to sixth graders. After that, I went to a school that didn’t have basketball for girls. I used to shoot layups before PE class, trying to get good just because I wanted to be good.

But despite that, PE class informed me that I wasn’t talented. I got picked last for teams. I could never get the volleyball over the net. Or the tennis ball, though I liked tennis.

I could ride a horse, though I never rode as much as my sister. I used a bicycle to get into town until I got a driver’s license. Mostly I spent my time curled up with a book. I was “smart,” not physical.

The first chink in my wall of belief came from watching The Avengers. Not the superhero movies, but the clever British spy spoof TV series from the 60s. Mrs. Peel, as played by the late Diana Rigg, was an awesome fighter because she had trained in martial arts.

A seed was planted in the back of my mind: Learn martial arts and you won’t be at risk from men.

Of course, martial arts was physical and I was untalented, but the idea remained.

Yes, stories matter, even high camp sixties TV.  Continue reading “On Talent and the Physical”