I FUBARed knee #2 on Tuesday night. In the short time since, I’ve been through denial, despair and am into acceptance. I’ve been down this road before and I know the drill in terms of following the RICE protocol in the initial stages followed by a build-up of physio exercises. It is a major bummer, but a word with BJJ brothers and sisters confirms that knees are an endangered species in the sport, or as one friend put it, ‘Once the meniscus is messed up, it is gone. Best to just cut it out. Very much apart [sic] of the BJJ game. Poor meniscii.’
Two years ago I mangled my right knee. Classic why-novices-don’t-use-heel-hooks-in-sparring situation. As readers may know, the trouble with heel hooks is that they target the knee and unlike, say, an arm bar, there is little indication of the joint being in danger before it is too late. I had no experience with this technique at the time – my opponent had not learned it in our instructor’s class – so, in ignorance, I rolled straight through the knee; the memory of the loud ‘pop’ turns my stomach to this day. After the initial shock and the adrenaline dump, I felt all right and thought I was able to stand, but I buckled under my own weight and dropped like a stone. I was out of grappling for 9 months.
Recovery was a slow, painful, arduous and demoralising process. I could barely walk for the first month. I started seeing a private physiotherapist about 8 weeks after the injury. While I had been to my GP and A&E the day following the injury and was referred to an NHS physiotherapist, the wait ended up being too long and of course a private physio could work around my schedule rather than the other way around. Essentially, I’d messed up my MCL and meniscus. Months of dedication to physio, starting with getting in and out of my chair on one leg and building up to a weights routine in the gym, paid off and I’ve successfully managed the injury through exercise. Since the injury I’ve become a regular runner, even doing pretty well in the BUPA London 10K last May (48 minutes and change). I do still get occasional weakness and clicking in the knee, which dictates what sort of conditioning I do alongside training from week to week, but overall I’ve been happy to maintain the leg without surgery. What was hardest to heal was my confidence. It took years to feel really safe on the mats again, and only in the last couple months have I been able to confidently pursue take downs.
Having finally ‘gotten over’ my fears and hesitations about moving from standing to the floor, I hadn’t expected to blow out the other knee while doing some light take down practice in no-gi class. This time was pure accident. I had my partner’s leg over wrapped with my right leg and was seeking to take him down by pivoting towards the right while hooking his leg further up. As his weight started to shift he pushed back towards me and the pressure and angle was just not quite right on my supporting leg (the left) and the knee collapsed. My training partner was close to my weight and I believe in this instance it was a case of several factors re. the positioning of my leg as I twisted and as he moved his weight that conspired against me. I managed the walk and bus back home all right, but had to ring my partner to come collect me from my stop as I needed a little support getting back to the house. At this stage, the adrenaline was wearing off and I was becoming increasingly worried that the knee would buckle badly and worsen my injury. I got home and started the RICE protocol and the first dose of a 10-day ibuprofen course, and sort of felt as if I’d only be out of action a few weeks.
Wednesday I was really blue and had a ‘crisis of faith’. The swelling was coming on, the knee was super stiff and I had pain on the inside of the knee and a lot of instability if I tried to get about without a strap. The thought of handling another MCL injury along with the worry of how the hell I was supposed to keep the ‘bad’ knee strong with the ‘good’ knee out of action made me hysterical. I was weepy all day and felt that perhaps I’d be better off getting out of this crazy game that has left me with two bum knees.
By Thursday I had my emotions locked down and had accepted that injury is as much a part of sport as, for instance, drills, warm ups and cool downs and competition. Indeed, as I’d ‘tweeted’ my injury, I heard from half a dozen players also suffering knee troubles at the minute, so I’m in good company. Ultimately, there is a process of recovery that can’t be rushed, and while it is frustrating to be forced into inactivity, it could be a lot worse for me. As an ‘Internet entrepreneur’ I’m in the privileged position of being able to work on my lappie from bed with my leg up and iced; I don’t need to be physically fit for my living, which is a blessing. My legs are pretty strong as I’ve been working conditioning and physio for two years to maintain the right knee, and this should help recovery. I’ve also got a wonderful coach and team that will help me ease back onto the mats, once I’m rested and well along the road to recovery, perhaps in six to eight weeks.
Today, the knee is still swollen but much less stiff. The RICE and ibuprofen treatments are paying dividends and walking up and down the stairs is much less terrifying and I can support my weight on one leg. I’m hoping to start some light physio next week, but am concentrating for the moment on getting the swelling down so that the muscles can fire properly. It gets me down that I’m going to be out of action for some time, but if I take care of myself I can recover well and get back to being a sweaty mess. In the meantime I can work Pilates as the knee allows and try to enjoy my newly freed up time. As coach says, injuries allow us to take stock of where we are and force us to work in new ways while increasing our tenacity and mental toughness.
Reflecting on my previous discussion of ‘women in martial arts‘, I don’t believe I properly emphasised the support and brotherly love I’ve received from the vast majority of male martial artists I’ve known since I began training.
My first dojo, the IOMASDA Ryu academy in Rochester, New York, was led by Master Leroy Haughton, currently head of the Webster branch of Chase Karate. Master Haughton and his fellow instructors – two men and a woman – were deeply interested in involving women in martial arts, and I mentioned in my earlier post that I first came to the dojo for a women’s self-defence course. Master Haughton encouraged me to develop a ‘warrior spirit’ and from the start treated me as a valuable student. My year’s training at IOMASDA gave me a huge amount of confidence to continue to pursue martial artistry after I relocated to Glasgow, UK.
In Glasgow, where I became active in the Glasgow University Shorinji Kempo Club, I was again surrounded by male martial artists who welcomed me, respected me and enjoyed training with me. In my second year with the club I was asked to be club secretary and in my third year I acted as captain; the first (and perhaps only) female captain of the GUSKC. My main training partners were men, and my grading partner up to shodan was John McCallum. I had great personal and training relationships with the guys, and they were very supportive of me getting my black belt and I never encountered any man’s serious reservations about training with a woman.
In London, I felt very welcome when I joined the Bob Breen Academy. Again, all the male instructors treated all the students, men and women, younger and older, stronger and weaker, with respect and with the understanding that everyone had a place in class and everyone brought something to share with everyone else. Dave Birkett has been particularly nurturing of my martial artistry, encouraging me to take up grappling and to compete in BJJ; I also train at his club, Dartford BJJ. Wayne Rowlands and Steve Wright at the Bob Breen Academy have also been regular training partners and are always looking to develop the confidence and abilities of female students.
My team mates at Dartford BJJ have been especially supportive of having me in the dojo, and I owe them a great debt for being such great training partners; as Dave says, ‘iron forges iron’. There is a great deal of fellowship among us and I feel that all the students respect me as a martial artist and actively enjoy training with me. At Bob’s, where folk are friendly and generally open to training with all comers, I have, however, more often experienced men concentrating on the middle distance in order to avoid training with me when pairing up for class. At the same time, over the course of the past four years, as I have become more and more proficient, I have ‘won over’ guys who, for years, studiously avoided eye contact when picking training partners, and who’ve recently started actively seeking me out as a training partner. This is deeply satisfying as I’ve clearly won their respect and perhaps helped to broaden their minds a wee bit as far as ‘women in martial arts’ goes.
While overall my experience as a ‘woman in martial arts’ has been positive, as I have recounted, on rare occasions I have felt marginalised. These experiences stand out as they are unpleasant, but they are aberrations and are balanced by the actions of men like Dave Birkett, Marc Walder and Dave ‘Speedy’ Elliot who seek to promote and encourage women’s participation.
I was recently approached by a friend who is writing a piece on the topic to consider ‘what is it like to be a woman in martial arts’. I think some personal context is necessary to highlight my point of view in responding to this question. I’ve been training in martial arts for 10 years. Initially, as a means to get back into shape after university, but quickly thereafter as a path of personal-development. Much of the first half of my decade in martial arts was spent in Shorinji Kempo (SK), in which I attained the rank of shodan. SK is a form of Zen Buddhism, and was, until recently, a recognised religion in Japan. The physical and spiritual aspects of the art were emphasised as one and gradings included both demonstration of technique and written examination on SK philosophy. I am also a former professional feminist historian and have a PhD in history and economic and social history from the University of Glasgow; I specialised in 19th century gender and women’s history. I dissolved my academic career due to lack of opportunity and retrained as a software developer, and after having worked in the City for two years am now working for myself and building my own Internet start-up.
With my background in mind, I would argue that the whole of question of ‘women in martial arts’, itself, reveals women’s marginal status inside and outside the dojo. I believe our culture puts a great deal of emphasis on individuals’ particularity, be it in terms of race, ethnicity, creed, social class or gender, when it is only accidents of birth and hormones that create these differences. In turn, a preoccupation with these issues tends to mask the true complexities of shared/divergent values, aspirations and etc among peoples. So, with the understanding that: a) I believe that the question of ‘women in martial arts’ highlights a persistent and insidious sexism of liberal democratic societies, in which liberal understandings of the free individual, implicitly male, contrast with notions of the ‘natural’ qualities of the sexes which assert women’s essential role as subordinate wife and mother; and b) I am not self-conscious of myself as a ‘female martial artist’ but rather consider myself a ‘martial artist’, I’ll try to address some issues that I face as a woman and a martial artist. To organise my response, I’ll address three questions: why am I a martial artist; how do I find being a woman influences my experience in martial arts; and what role does competition play in my practice.
Why am I a martial artist? I started martial arts in the new year of 1998. I was back in my home town, Rochester, NY, after university and before starting my post-grad. A friend had a friend who was an instructor at a local dojo and was running a ‘women’s empowerment self-defence class’; we decided to go along. I had been trying to get fit after university, being of the opinion that I could either explode or go into my late-twenties and thirties with some grace. This seemed like a good opportunity. I had always had an interest in martial arts, having had a long-term relationship with a keen martial artist in my late-teens and early-twenties. I also had a background in dance and gymnastics and the learning environments and strategies for these disciplines are very similar. The pal who introduced me to the dojo was Seneca, a Native American tribe indigenous to Upstate New York, and near the end of the self-defence course I accompanied her to an ‘Iroquois Social’ where I entered a raffle to win a month’s martial arts instruction. I won, and from there my fate was sealed and I trained in IOMASDA Ryu for the next few months. I moved to Glasgow in the autumn of ’98 and after checking out the university’s Judo and Shotokan Karate clubs I settled on Shorinji Kempo. SK appealed to my belief in the unity of mind and body and was technically more diverse than the other clubs, including a mixture of hard (striking) and soft (throws, releases and pins) techniques. By this time, martial arts was insinuating itself as core component of my life and while still somewhat about fitness – I have always pursued extra-curricular body-conditioning to increase my stamina for martial arts – it was steadily becoming more and more a Zen path of learning how to live in the moment and to to relinquish ego. This path for me has been further consolidated as I’ve increasingly immersed myself in BJJ practice over the last four years.
BJJ, and in particular the Gracie Jiu Jitsu that I practice, is deeply liberating to me. On a day-to-day level I like the physicality of the art, which provides superb fitness, but the physicality of BJJ does not overrule its complexity and technical difficulty (I’ve found some martial artists assume that athletic or more physically challenging disciplines are less technical). I also like that my ability to apply technical knowledge is constantly challenged by the integration of sparring into training, not to mention that it is possible to spar this art in every session without knocking my brain about or putting my nose out of joint. Further, as a relatively small and light martial artist (59-60 kilos so I weigh in at about 62 kilos), I’m able to deal effectively with much larger and stronger opponents; I know from experience the truth of the notion that the wider the skill gap the less important is a strength/weight advantage (while the converse is also the case). My BJJ also represents for me a beautiful and amazing journey of self-discovery and improvement. The more I am able to relinquish my ego and to exist in ‘the now’ the more I learn and the better I perform. For instance, when rolling (sparring or fighting in competition) the more I am able to be ‘in the moment’ and to avoid attachment to a particular position, seeking to do ‘what I can, when I can’, rather than ‘what I want, when I want’ the better I perform. Similarly, the more I am able to roll without ego and to treat all training partners, regardless of size or skill level, as someone that I can learn from, the more I am able to roll without fear; there is no fear of failure if the experience rather than ‘winning’ is the goal. So, the stronger and more centred I am as a person the better player I am, and, reciprocally, the more open-minded my approach to training the stronger and more centred I become. I suppose I am a martial artist for many of the reasons people of faith have religion. I have a great deal of fellowship with my team mates and training partners, I am able to push myself to grow as a better person and I am able to develop greater tenacity for dealing with adversity in my life; everyday I’m less likely to ‘tap’.
How do I find being a woman influences my experience in martial arts? As a woman in martial arts, as in any realm of my life, I find that male peers tend to respond to me in one of three ways: – As a legitimate training partner. – As a training partner after a period of suspicion. – As a ‘woman’, a label which here denotes incapacity for proper martial artistry
Most of my training partners have been, and continue to be, men. I have been lucky enough to have trained with some outstanding individuals who supported my development and accepted me as a legitimate and fun training partner from the get-go. I have also had regular experience of being avoided as a training partner and only accepted as a legitimate training partner after a period of dedication, some times over the course of years. To turn someone around to seeing me as an equal and as a ‘martial artist’ in something approaching gender-neutral terms is incredibly satisfying, and is a way in which I can ‘be the change’ I want to see. Then, of course, there are those that may be open to having women in the dojo but can never quite get past gender stereotypes. Here is where feminist-inspired assertiveness comes into play, which teaches that validation from others is not necessary for a sense of self-worth. It can certainly be disheartening to be treated as an inferior, but I believe that those who project negativity, hate and jealousy do so out of fear and insecurity. It is unfortunate that a sexist understanding of gender differences has to pervade all aspects of life, especially something I find so glorious, but all I can do is to continue on my path and wish luck to ‘the haters’ in finding inner-peace. This is all very vague and impressionistic, but perhaps an anecdote will illustrate my thoughts more clearly.
I train in BJJ under Dave Birkett (Dartford BJJ) who is instructed by Marc Walder, a Gracie Barra black belt under Mauricio Gomez. Marc Walder held an inter-club competition for his branches on 25 October. This was the weekend before a larger regional competition, the Kent BJJ Open, that I was competing in and I was looking forward to having a warm-up bout in a less pressurised environment than an open competition. I am in the lightweight weight category (under 64 and over 59 kilos), and there are very few men approaching my size. A week before the competition it came to light that there was no one for me to compete against. I believe this was due to a combination of two factors: first that there weren’t folk of my weight; and second that folk close to my weight weren’t keen to fight a woman. This upset me a great deal. I love BJJ, and I felt betrayed by my BJJ-brothers. My disappointment turned to disgust with the idea that folk would consider: a) victory over a woman as negligible; b) loss to a woman as humiliating. In both cases women’s innate inferiority is implicit, and I felt judged without trial, treated as a ‘woman in martial arts’ rather than as a ‘martial artist’. Dave Birkett and Marc Walder, two men very supportive of female martial artists, arranged for ‘demonstration bouts’ for myself and another female competitor from my club. My instructors wanted to highlight the legitimacy of ‘women in martial arts’, but to me this felt token as the whole point seemed to be that being a woman prevented me from being fully accepted as a martial artist, and I toyed with the idea of not doing the bout and boycotting the whole affair. However, in the spirit of giving up ego and in light of my great respect for both Dave and Marc, who I trust to have a better notion of what is good for me in a martial arts context, I decided to go for it and get out of the experience what I could.
The exhibition bouts were held during an intermission in the competition. I sparred with Dave ‘Speedy’ Elliot. Dave Elliot is a four stripe brown belt and head of the Newcastle branch. His nickname refers to him having ended eight MMA bouts in submission, each in under a minute, and having submitted seven opponents at a BJJ competition in a combined time of less than two minutes. He is and absolute monster and greatly respected inside and outside the Marc Walder jiu jitsu family, and I think the idea was to show that even certified badasses can get something out of rolling with a female player. I took a huge amount of confidence and positivity away from the experience. Dave ‘Speedy’ allowed me to ‘show my stuff’ by putting me into all sorts of positions and everywhere I went I had technique to execute. He went very lightly, and I was able to pull off some fancy moves: semi cartwheel guard pass; double leg sprawl defence; and a lovely sweep from butterfly guard. My performance got a huge reaction from the crowd, and there was great shouting when I did my techniques, particularly the sweep, and even ‘Meg, Meg, Meg’ chanting at one point. As Dave Birkett later remarked, it took ‘balls’ (gendered slang for ‘courage’ I suppose) to do, and it showed the folk there that I wasn’t ‘a slouch’. Because I was able to give up my ego and to approach the experience with an open mind, I was able to build up a store of positive feeling that I tapped in the run-up to the following week’s Kent Open; whenever I felt nervous or insecure I thought back to my feeling of composure and technical know-how in my roll with Speedy, and I could knock those demons out. I went on to a fine performance at the Kent Open, gaining the silver after demonstrating some advanced technique in my matches.
My memory of these events exemplifies what it is like for me both as ‘a person in martial arts’ and as a ‘woman in martial arts’. Firstly, it is important to build relationships with training partners and mentors who are open minded and endeavour to lead by example. Dave and Marc believe in everyone’s right and ability to participate in BJJ. They seek to set a tone in their clubs where students treat each other with respect. This is the sort of loving and nurturing environment where women, children and other less conventional martial artists can find a niche and excel. Secondly, while there is resistance to women’s inclusion, equally there are proactive responses that seek to assert the fallacy of women’s inferiority and give female players a forum to demonstrate their competencies. What role does competition play in my practice? I compete in BJJ in order to take advantage of the rare opportunity to fight against individuals of similar skill, weight and proportional strength and to enjoy the experience of a very pure state of being.
In regular training, even the lightest men I work with are ten kilos heavier not to mention even lighter men tend to have greater strength than women of equivalent weight. While this is a great challenge and helps me to develop an tight defence, it can be difficult for me to evaluate what I am capable of in terms of applying my technical knowledge. In competition, where size, strength and skill level are within a restricted range (by belt and weight division, and while men’s divisions are large enough to split by age this is not the case for women’s divisions), I’m able to gauge what techniques I ‘own’ and where I need to work. Moreover, I am able to work a more offensive game, as I’m not yet able to open up my defence against heavier, trained opponents, though I can often submit/win on points against much larger and less experienced players.
Fighting in competition requires a great deal of composure, determination as well as technical know-how. When I hit the mats I seek to bring all my training partners, all my practice, all my personal discipline, fights and struggles with me. I have only competed in two tournaments, and while the experiences were different, they shared a need for mental toughness and composure. In my first tournament, the Gracie Invitational at SENI ’08, I took the gold even though I was less technically advanced than my second opponent. I was, however, more physically fit which allowed me to push myself mentally and keep going as the fight got old. I refused to give up, even after 3-plus minutes of getting trounced. I bounced back and ended the fight with a rear choke with 10 seconds left and 13 points down. I remember rallying myself when I felt like I might give up, thinking that ‘this isn’t sparring’, ‘you’ve got to keep going’, ‘get up, Meg, GET UP!’, which is just what I did. I also remember being ‘in the zone’ and thinking and doing simultaneously. It was the most ‘in the moment’ I have ever felt and I was keen to repeat the experience.
I was much more relaxed at my second tournament, the Kent BJJ Open ’08. I was nearing promotion to blue belt and knew I had strong technical ability for my level, reinforced by my experience at the Marc Walder inter-club. While I felt very composed and was able to ‘turn it on’ when I hit the mats, it was an emotionally charged tournament for me. I knew it was likely I’d have to face a woman I’ve trained with at Bob Breen Academy and who now trained with a rival team; she’d recently taken gold at the Scandinavian Open for our division and she’d given me a very hard time in sparring at the Academy some months previously. I clearly dominated in my first bout, where I got a huge ippon seonagi to knee ride to mount and finished with an Ezekiel choke. My second bout was with the former Academy student, and I refused to show I was ‘shook’, doing high jumps with knee to chest as we came onto the mats. I had a good technical win on points: single leg takedown; nearly got a sweep from guard and arm bar from guard that I’d been practising; passed guard cleanly; used a low tight guard to prevent point loss. During this bout I felt very fluid and enjoyed the experience of ‘seeing myself’ executing technique instinctively. For instance, I looked down and saw myself blocking the hip as a natural matter of course as I passed guard. I narrowly lost the third bout on points. It was a shoving match where my opponent sought to get a takedown and ride out the match to win on points. I jumped to guard to prevent further point loss and to work submissions from there, having watched her fight I knew she would not be able to pass my guard. I became too attached to a choke I’ve been working to see a very good triangle opening when it was available and went for that too late. I believe I demonstrated great fighting ability for my level, even without taking gold, and I took a lot from the experience. I went there with personal goals, specifically to work my takedowns and to stay cool and work my game and not be goaded into a crude battle of strength, and I left there feeling I met those goals well. I learned more from my third match than the others, in particular that I must work my sprawls and be yet more fluid and ‘in the moment’ in order to capitalise effectively on positions as they come and go. This, in essence, is what competition is about for me, learning about my BJJ and so learning about myself. I believe that medals are a symptom of going in there, facing my fears and ‘doing my job’, but a medal is not the goal itself rather a consequence of a strong mind and body.
A final note on my experience at the Kent Open. When I executed a rather textbook ippon seonagi to knee ride the crowd went wild and, according to my team mates, there was a huge buzz in the stands and certainly several male competitors unknown to me congratulated me on my performance. Considering that BJJ, like martial arts more widely, is very much a ‘man’s world’, it is very satisfying to win the respect of folk through a demonstration of competency and, again, makes me feel that I am ‘being the change’ I want to see.
During 2008, I competed as a white belt at the Gracie Invitational at SENI and at the Kent BJJ Open (now the English BJJ Open). Here’s a video of my first fight at the Kent Open with Seetha Udin of Checkmat. I went on to win my second bout on points and to lose my third on points to take home the silver.
The Gracie Invitational at the SENI exposition in May 2008 was my first BJJ competition; I also competed at the Kent BJJ Open in that year, shortly before a second knee injury took me out of that part of the game. I won my first fight by arm bar and below is a video of my second bout against Zoe Hull of Pedro Bessa BJJ; I took home the gold that day. This was an exhilarating experience which taught me a lot about myself and what I can be capable of under pressure.