By: Audra Ord
When I tell people I have a blue belt, they seldom believe me. For some reason, society finds it unacceptable and strange that a girl who has pigtails and likes the color pink would want to be able to take down an opponent.
My parents enrolled me in Tae Kwan Do classes when I was a young kid, maybe about seven years old. I was one of the few girls in the class, but I was able to hold my own against the little boys. I enjoyed learning the discipline, respect and control aspects that go along with practicing a martial art, and I loved the activity itself. I used to get nervous when it came time to test for a new belt level, and I would practice my kata diligently the week before, making sure I would be able to execute each punch, kick and block with precision. Eventually, I worked my way up to a blue belt; after that point, (about sixth grade) I got busy with other activities and had to walk away from martial arts for a while.
Fast forward to my freshman year of high school. My dad signed me and himself up for a ground fighting seminar through the dojo I had previously taken classes through. This time, I was the only female in the class. All the guys there (about 20 of them) treated me like porcelain and wouldn’t fight with me because they were afraid they would hurt me. I ended up being paired for sparring with my dad, who had about 70 pounds and five inches on me. To make a long story short, I kicked his butt (and no, he didn’t just let me do it), and he spend the next few days nursing some bruises, sore joints and a hurt ego.
A few months after this ground fighting seminar, I enrolled in a Kempo Jujitsu class. Again, I was the only girl in the class. I vividly remember one particular session, only a few weeks after I had started. I came to the class directly from cheerleading practice; I still had a bow in my hair. During the class, we were practicing a particular technique in which the “attacker” is holding the “victim” in a choke hold. We were supposed to be practicing a specific set of movements to escape from the hold. It was my turn to be the victim, so my opponent tenderly placed his large hands around my neck. As soon as our instructor gave the go-ahead to begin sparring, my opponent was on the ground, on his back, looking up at me bewilderedly. He had greatly underestimated my strength and power; I was tired of being treated as a weak female, and I wanted to prove to the guys in my class that I belonged there as much as they did. Well, let’s just say they didn’t treat me like a China doll after they realized I could effectively defend myself.
I learned a lot through my experience in martial arts, not only about physical strength and ability, but about mental and spiritual strength, control and respect.
