12 Apr The Art of Fighting Fears- Maria Myles

Originally Published in A Headrest for Your Soul (OWWP 2020 Summer Anthology)

 

The Art of Fighting Fears:

Facing the Opponent Within

 

It was almost a year ago when I first competed in a series of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu tournaments.

The desire to challenge the narratives presented to me in moments throughout my life drove me to Jiu Jitsu. The narrative that I am weak and unable to defend myself because I am a girl. The narrative believed by many people, including my parents, that girls should not fight. I decided to challenge the way society saw me, and perhaps more importantly, the way I saw myself. The narrator in Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club seemed to share the feeling of being trapped in a place where he suffered a loss of personal identity, a “space monkey”. In a way, his job defined his life, his identity becoming “a great war of the spirit”. In an attempt to break out of that role, the narrator discovered fight club, and similarly for me, I decided to compete in a set of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu tournaments.

 

Like the world of Fight Club, my reality seemed contradictory, with most of the world thinking I could not defend myself, counteracted by a small portion of those that believe I could learn defenses to control my opponent. Yet within the same martial art, I could not compete with the opposite gender at the local tournament level because I was not considered to be strong enough. I felt stuck in a loop of doubt, being afraid that I could never reach the potential of a great martial arts fighter no matter how hard I tried, just because I am a girl. In the world of Fight Club, the narrator felt a similar way, with promises of the American dream ironically provided in the backdrop to the draining office environment he faced every day. Regardless of whether my hopes of testing myself against all members of my weight class would come to fruition, I signed up for a local tournament held each October at a university campus on the outskirts of Vancouver, BC. I definitely did not think I was the best fighter, but I believed that at least I should be allowed to compete against everyone in my weight bracket, regardless of gender.

 

I walked into the university gym on a sunny yet brisk October morning, weaving past teams from other schools. I stepped up to a weight scale and I was given a wristband with my division number. I walked up to a large group of Jiu Jitsu fighters slowly forming in the corner of the gym and stood amidst the crowd. I waited until the coordinator had finished sorting everyone into their weight and rank categories. I quietly raised my hand when he asked if anyone was left without a group.

 

“Ah yes! Your name is Maria, right? We were looking for you.” the coordinator stated.

 

As the coordinator explained that no girls my age signed up for the tournament and offered for me to compete in the children’s bracket against the girls there, I softly, yet persistently, kept asking to be placed to compete with the males in my weight class division.

 

“That would be too dangerous, unfortunately we cannot let you do that” one coordinator persisted.

 

“They are too afraid to compete against girls anyways!” his partner interjected, making light of the situation.

 

So, I softly replied, “I am not trying to prove anything, I just want to have the experience of competing against all kinds of opponents” keeping a strong smile and an air of confidence.

 

A few hours passed of sitting on the sidelines and watching entire matches start and finish. I persistently kept walking over to the coordinators, asking if they had found any males willing to compete against me in my weight and skill level division. Each time I was left with a response that they did not know yet. As the tournament crowd slowly dissipated with the completion of each match, I was called back to the coordinator table.

 

“Okay, we found a few males to compete with you” they nodded towards me.

 

My reality was finally real. The cold glass wall between my reality and theirs had shattered and I walked forward into a new and unknown future, feeling a surge of energy with every step across the tatami mats. I finally felt a part of the tournament, not divided by gender, just competing against another individual in the tournament. Our match as interesting to watch as the handful of matches before.

 

Losing some of the matches and holding my ground in others, I was exhausted but happy as I was called up for the last match of the day.

 

As I walked up to the mat, I thought back to a tournament I had visited with my friend to watch the previous summer. My friend knew the event organizers, so we were allowed to sneak past the ropes separating the spectators from the event. I remember asking the scorekeeper if he had ever seen girls compete alongside males, and he waved my questions of a mixed-gender bracket aside. Now here I was, standing on the tournament mats with the same scorekeeper hovering his hand over the score clock for my match, and a male with one belt rank below mine and one weight class heavier, standing across from me, both of us on the ready line.

 

Looking back, in a way this was my “little act of rebellion,” an effort to change a societal narrative.

 

Maybe the young girl watching me compete alongside the group of boys thought to herself “why aren’t girls typically allowed to compete with everyone?”

 

I know that a single day will not change the course of all local tournaments, and that the idea of having an optional mixed gender division is an uphill battle; but maybe the bracket coordinators, the scorekeeper, or the young girl in the stands went home that day with the idea that it is possible not only for a woman to compete against a man, but that it is also possible for the woman to win.