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I came into self-defense through martial arts. In 1992, I took a five-minute self-defense class at a women's festival: how to use your voice, do a power yell and a palm heel strike, where you strike the nose with the heel of your palm. It had never occurred to me that I could protect myself because I'm a woman and I'm small and not that strong. The next day I signed up for a class.
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In 1993 some Asian women friends and I started RUCKUS. We thought we'd start a school for Asian women, but martial arts is a little hard; it needs commitment and it's a "no pain, no gain" situation. Attrition is high. So the conversation turned to self-defense. Our way of teaching self-defense is about instilling confidence. We talk about internal strength, prevention, being smart. We talk about being a bitch, able to say what you want to say, set up a boundary and get the hell out. It goes from prevention to after-care. In between you might have to fight back. I teach them to go against vulnerable places. We go for eyes, nose and knees. We give women the chance to test their strength by hitting a pad. It doesn't take much pressure to break a knee, so when you hit a pad and see that you've hit it hard, you know you can knock someone down. It's a great way for women to imprint on their bodies that they have physical strength.
Asian women deal with specific issues; we tend to be smaller, and we're supposed to be easy to attack. Attackers assume that we won't do anything. We're submissive, we're gentle. Those assumptions make us vulnerable. Asian men also deal with the stereotype of being more submissive, more feminine, not as strong, thinner, weaker. For men, it's very easy to go from zero to 100, and they have to learn when it's okay not to fight. We also expanded to teaching queer communities, where people are often faced with multiple attackers, or need to get away with a partner. We have discussion, games, role plays and techniques. We talk about violence from people we don't know and violence from people we do know. We talk about self-defense in domestic violence situations, where you have to see the person the next day.
It's important to put violence in the context of our culture. Sometimes women give a racial description for their attacker. We don't get "this white guy approached me"--he's just "a guy"--but the men of color get identified. When it comes up, we try to separate the identity from the behavior: what actually happened, what he actually did.
I started teaching in Japan in 1997, when predominantly men or the police were teaching. I heard a lot of stories that the men didn't believe women could defend themselves. It was hierarchical, with the big judo sensei teaching all these little women things they wouldn't be able to do anyway. One woman came to my class and didn't talk at all. Often people who don't talk are thinking, thinking, thinking. After class, she handed me a thick envelope with her story. She ran away from home to Tokyo when she was a teenager. She was wandering and a man struck up a conversation with her. She told him she didn't have a place to stay, and he said, "Why don't you come with me?" He took her to a hotel and tried to rape her. She fended him off but he was very strong, so she feigned asthma and had a coughing fit. She kept it up for five and a half hours. He'd get her water, tell her "get better" and then try again. Every time he'd try to rape her, she'd start coughing. Finally it was like a war of attrition. He said, "I'm leaving." I had started that class by telling self-defense stories, pointing out the maneuvers that women had used. Like coughing, or sometimes waiting, talking, cajoling, flattering. ...