How do I decide on topics for this blog? Generally speaking, if it's something I am still thinking about the next day, and if I have time, up it goes.
Last night at the end of okeiko (a rather crowded one), I mentioned casually that the classes at the alternate space, on Mondays and Thursdays, were ongoing if anyone was interested. A few of the people who come on Wednesdays do come on Thursdays, but the Monday class, which I am co-teaching with someone else, have had a little trouble getting off the ground.
I share responsibility for the Monday class with a colleague, who happens to have a first degree in the style. While I do not have a degree, I have been practicing it for some time. As we get in more regular practice, I hope that whatever credentials I can garner in the field will become practical for me, but at the moment, as I said, we are still getting off the ground. Neither one of us is considered a teacher, as first degree in *any* koryu style is about 15 years removed from even a junior license to teach. We are being supervised by someone else, and our function is more like "workshop leader." Since I actually have more time in than my colleague, I am the one in the front of the room, as weird as that makes me feel sometimes.
While I was out of town, the only provision I made for Mondays was that if the co-instructor could not be there, he should let the manager of the space know so the practice could be cancelled. Since I have been back, I have pointedly not asked what happened while I was gone, as there was nothing I could do about it anyway. As it turns out, he has recently purchased an apartment for his family (after a long search) and sent me a regretful email saying he hoped he could be back soon, once the renovations for his new home are complete. As a result, I spent Monday practice by myself - not a bad deal, actually, as the space is free, and I am generally happy to use the time to review things, especially after training in the Old Country.
One person who has just lately started with me, when I reminded people about Monday and Thursday classes, remarked that my colleague had not been available much lately. I responded that I had not been in the country lately, but I had been there last Monday night.
"Yes," he said, "but do you have a degree?"
"What?"
"Do you ahve a degree in the style?"
"No," I responded, "but I have been practicing since he was in junior high school. Just because I have not tested does not mean I don't know anything. I certainly know more than you."
It reminded me of my adjunct days, when, in spite of my two graduate degrees, students would be skeptical of my knowledge of the subject.
"This place can't afford [name of my famous advisor], but it can afford me. And I know a great deal more about this subject than you!"
But there it is, and I asked myself then, and I ask myself now: if I were a man, would this even come up? Martial arts, especially in the US, while it early on made significant inroads against racism from time to time, remains relentlessly sexist. Even people in Japan, where gender divisions seem more obvious, wonder at the lack of female participation in budo here. As one female teacher of naginata, a traditionally female-dominated form in Japan, remarked to me on her US teaching experience: "I never taught men until I moved here. I keep asking myself: Where are the women?"
It is one of the explanations for how my situation evolved as it has. Previously, I was manager of my old dojo. I planned events, and even taught most of the students, but when push came to shove (literally) nearly all the students (dare I say it? To a man) chose to stay with the guy. Some of them admitted to me later, in one way or another, that it might not have been the best thing from a learning perspective, but they weren't about to jump ship later on either (not that I would have let them join me). Other American colleagues of mine have said, simply, "I have never even met a woman who does what you do, let alone teaches." And they mean it as a compliment.
What to do about the student? After all, if he wants to deprive himself of a solid experience based on his perceptions rather than the quality of the experience itself, so what? I have been doing this since before he was born. I don't need to prove myself to him or anyone else, except the teachers I currently choose to study with. So, I will ignore him. Students like that I don't need.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Jet Lag and Culture Shock, or, Is there a Sartorial Double Standard?
Okay, so I just got back from 2-1/2 weeks in Japan, so I might pull this post after I have had a chance to reread it in a few days, but here goes anyway.
I love Tokyo. This time I was hardly there at all, which to me was a great shame. As always, on my last evening there, I went to Sensoji, threw a coin, asked whoever is out there to send me home safely (and she did) and wiped a tear.
The "dress code" in Tokyo is generally black, navy blue, or grey office attire, except on Sundays. That said, things have become less strict in recent years. One can now see a pair of jeans on any day of the week, and not just on kids. The affection for uniforms endures, but businessmen can now forego ties when the outside temperature hits 80 degrees or so. While conservative, there is a certain amount of dignity also. There is even a sense of casual elegance, as in a country that takes its sartorial cues from Europe rather than the US.
My first day back in New York - I also love it here, for the variety, lacking in Japan (and which would seem sort of out of place there somehow). People of all shapes and sizes, all sorts of individuality on display. I know that people outside NYC think we are not America, and maybe they're right. We reflect the world.
But - or should I say butt - I was not prepared for following an enormous woman up the steps to the subway platform this morning. She was wearing leggings (not jeggings) and a sweater which in no way covered her massive behind swaying above me. I actually had a Japanese reaction for a second and put up my hand to cover my eyes. Oh. My. God.
Lunch time was only improved by the fact that (a) I was not walking up a flight of stairs and (b) some of the women were more attractively dressed, overall, than others. I probably would have ignored this a few weeks ago, but after leaving a country where people take pride in their appearance, it was major culture shock to experience women walking around like they have forgotten an important article of clothing.
My husband thinks it's funny that I remark on the state of women's butts, but honestly, they are literally, sometimes, in my face. If I could see guys' butts as much I would no doubt remark on them, too. In fact, I would pay even more attention. But imagine, for a second, if men dressed like women have done for the past few years. Actually, you don"t need to imagine. All you need to do is look up the old Star Trek episode in which the crew visits a planet where the females of the species rule and the men are the secondary members of their society. The women of the planet wore no-nonsense costumes that emphasized practicality and comfort. The men of the planet were soft-looking, but attractive, dressed in skimpy, billowy tunics and speaking softly. Needless to say, the men of the Enterprise, while trying to follow the Prime Directive, were obviously uncomfortable. In this episode, along with an interesting host of other issues, the idea of clothing and its relationship to who is in power is amply on display.
Throughout history, slaves have often been marked as the people wearing the least clothing. We have contemporary examples, too: in the Harry Potter series, Dobby, a house elf (i.e. slave) wears a sack. He owns nothing, and can only be freed when and if his master were to give him an article of clothing. (He is freed after his master inadvertently gives him one of Harry's socks). J.K. Rowling was obviously following an old trope, of which there are many examples in art (think ancient Egyptian, among others ). The slaves are the naked people you see in the bas-relief.
I know it's fashionable now for women to consider flaunting their sexual charms as if they were some sort of power. This is one of the best fallacies ever perpetuated by the fashion industry, not to mention the backlash against women achieving real power in society. If you don't believe me, put the sky-high heel on the other foot. Men who even remotely emulate some of women's style of dress in this country are laughed at. I'm not saying that laughing is a good idea; after all, in a country that values individualism, presumably we should at least defend everyone's sartorial choices, at least up to a point.
This is not the sour grapes of a middle-aged woman who wishes she could still dress like a 20-year-old. I was there. We pushed the envelope as far as we could. But once we realized, in my little college set, that we wanted to be taken seriously as people, we began to dress differently. And it worked. People are amused by mid 1980's movies in which the women are wearing suits, that, except for the bustline, look like men's attire, but if you wanted to be taken seriously in a professional world, you had to look like a professional. And guess what? It's still true.
Take a look at the all-powerful 1% in this country. Take a look at their clothes. Draw your own conclusions.
I love Tokyo. This time I was hardly there at all, which to me was a great shame. As always, on my last evening there, I went to Sensoji, threw a coin, asked whoever is out there to send me home safely (and she did) and wiped a tear.
The "dress code" in Tokyo is generally black, navy blue, or grey office attire, except on Sundays. That said, things have become less strict in recent years. One can now see a pair of jeans on any day of the week, and not just on kids. The affection for uniforms endures, but businessmen can now forego ties when the outside temperature hits 80 degrees or so. While conservative, there is a certain amount of dignity also. There is even a sense of casual elegance, as in a country that takes its sartorial cues from Europe rather than the US.
My first day back in New York - I also love it here, for the variety, lacking in Japan (and which would seem sort of out of place there somehow). People of all shapes and sizes, all sorts of individuality on display. I know that people outside NYC think we are not America, and maybe they're right. We reflect the world.
But - or should I say butt - I was not prepared for following an enormous woman up the steps to the subway platform this morning. She was wearing leggings (not jeggings) and a sweater which in no way covered her massive behind swaying above me. I actually had a Japanese reaction for a second and put up my hand to cover my eyes. Oh. My. God.
Lunch time was only improved by the fact that (a) I was not walking up a flight of stairs and (b) some of the women were more attractively dressed, overall, than others. I probably would have ignored this a few weeks ago, but after leaving a country where people take pride in their appearance, it was major culture shock to experience women walking around like they have forgotten an important article of clothing.
My husband thinks it's funny that I remark on the state of women's butts, but honestly, they are literally, sometimes, in my face. If I could see guys' butts as much I would no doubt remark on them, too. In fact, I would pay even more attention. But imagine, for a second, if men dressed like women have done for the past few years. Actually, you don"t need to imagine. All you need to do is look up the old Star Trek episode in which the crew visits a planet where the females of the species rule and the men are the secondary members of their society. The women of the planet wore no-nonsense costumes that emphasized practicality and comfort. The men of the planet were soft-looking, but attractive, dressed in skimpy, billowy tunics and speaking softly. Needless to say, the men of the Enterprise, while trying to follow the Prime Directive, were obviously uncomfortable. In this episode, along with an interesting host of other issues, the idea of clothing and its relationship to who is in power is amply on display.
Throughout history, slaves have often been marked as the people wearing the least clothing. We have contemporary examples, too: in the Harry Potter series, Dobby, a house elf (i.e. slave) wears a sack. He owns nothing, and can only be freed when and if his master were to give him an article of clothing. (He is freed after his master inadvertently gives him one of Harry's socks). J.K. Rowling was obviously following an old trope, of which there are many examples in art (think ancient Egyptian, among others ). The slaves are the naked people you see in the bas-relief.
I know it's fashionable now for women to consider flaunting their sexual charms as if they were some sort of power. This is one of the best fallacies ever perpetuated by the fashion industry, not to mention the backlash against women achieving real power in society. If you don't believe me, put the sky-high heel on the other foot. Men who even remotely emulate some of women's style of dress in this country are laughed at. I'm not saying that laughing is a good idea; after all, in a country that values individualism, presumably we should at least defend everyone's sartorial choices, at least up to a point.
This is not the sour grapes of a middle-aged woman who wishes she could still dress like a 20-year-old. I was there. We pushed the envelope as far as we could. But once we realized, in my little college set, that we wanted to be taken seriously as people, we began to dress differently. And it worked. People are amused by mid 1980's movies in which the women are wearing suits, that, except for the bustline, look like men's attire, but if you wanted to be taken seriously in a professional world, you had to look like a professional. And guess what? It's still true.
Take a look at the all-powerful 1% in this country. Take a look at their clothes. Draw your own conclusions.
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