The "Women's Self-Defense Workshop" rant

Of course this was coming, and I doubt it will surprise anyone as to what my opinion is.

One of the places where I teach is sponsoring a "women's self defense workshop."  To give the benefit of the doubt to the sponsor, he probably has a few motivations, including a well-meant impulse, I am sure.  And for his sake, I hope there's a good turnout and he makes some money.  However, that is all I can possibly wish for.

Where shall we start?  How about with the concept?  Why is it a women's self-defense workshop?  Why not just a self-defense workshop for anyone who thinks he/she needs one?  The assumptions here are (1) women need protection from assailants over and above other people, and (2) we somehow need to take a workshop in order to figure this out.  We never hear of self-defense workshops for seniors, or children (okay, sometimes for gay people).

Next, the nature of the workshop - most workshops that I have heard of and the few I have been around (as an observer mostly, the friggin things just cost too much) take for their content the idea of protecting oneself from a sudden, violent encounter with a stranger.  The high fees for this type of workshop is what I like to call "the price of fear" - to wit, as much as $500 for a weekend!  Statistics quoted more often than I care to remember note that most assaults on women (or, as I like to think of it, on people) are perpetrated by persons with whom they are acquainted.  That is not to say that encounters with strangers do not exist, but they do not happen as often as the promoters want potential participants to believe.  Though it has been awhile, I have neither encountered, nor have I heard of, a self-defense workshop that offers real advice on how to handle threats from someone who may be an extended family member, co-worker, or other person seen on a regular basis.  The reasons why, of course, are that these interactions often subtle and complicated.  Subtle and complicated situations cannot be resolved with a swift kick to the balls (though it would be nice). 

I first moved from home for real when I was 21 years old.  I lived, briefly, in a boarding house with five (count 'em!) five roomates, all female.  The woman who had been there the longest (all of 24 years old) was an informal "house mother" to the rest of us newbies, and we would occasionally spend part of an afternoon or evening sharing lore about the types of things that could happen to young women on the mean streets of Minneapolis.  The stories were worth hearing, but the bottom line always was: be ready to run.  A pair of sensible shoes, in the days long before cell phones, was the best defense.  Don't stop walking.  Don't wait.  Don't ask questions.  And above all, don't let him touch you. 

As much as I learned from these couple of sessions, there were things I also had to learn for myself, of course.  One night I turned down a ride to the bus stop late at night after my job, only to encounter a guy in a car who was determined to get me into it.  The car was positioned to cut me off from a bike track short cut by a railroad bridge.  The alternative was to cross the bridge on the tracks themselves, a good option, except that night there just happened to be a freight train coming across, its bright headlamp beaming down at me.  Considering the alternative, I went for the tracks.  I survived intact (I believe I ran all the way home, a distance of about 2 miles).  And thereafter, even late at night, would walk the tracks instead of trying for the bike track.  The sensible shoe tactic was already in the repertoire.

I tell these stories because, statistics be damned, stuff does happen to women out of the blue.  But also to point out that running is the best defense.  Always.  But, it makes for a really short workshop, and not really worth $500. 

Another big problem with self-defense-for-women-workshops is that I am not sure any tactics beyond running are really effective.  I do think it is better to fight than to submit.  I have done things from time to time that prevented a situation from becoming worse, but nothing I did was ever covered in a self-defense workshop.  Wanna know the secret?  Roll back and press, from the Yang style taiji short form.  Step back at the same time you push forward, and suddenly there's 4-5 feet between you and a (surprised) attacker.  Then run.

The problem with an expensive workshop with dubious tactics is that it can give a false sense of security, and may lead someone into falsely thinking that she can control a situation that has been designed by her assailant to keep her off-balance.  No matter how many hypotheticals get thrown around in the context of a class, I can never know what will happen in an actual encounter.  And I don't want to know - I never want to get that far.  All that boring stuff your mom told you about not getting drunk and going home by yourself, avoiding dark streets, etc., etc. is absolutely true.  As much as we, products of the 70's wave of feminism, wanted to defy the "rules" that would keep us safe, most of them still apply.  Sorry.  It's unjust, but as Jimmy Carter said, "Life is unfair."  Generally speaking, guys are bigger than we are.  You have to practice all the time, and be very, very good to take on and defeat someone bigger, and possibly armed, who is intent on doing harm.  A workshop will not do it for you.

And the second date with the cute guy you met at a bar last week?  That's even tougher, and requires brains not brawn, strategy rather than tactics.  The worst assault I ever encountered was from someone I had known for years.  He was clearly out of control, high on painkillers, and determined not to let me leave.  If I had tried, I could possibly have been badly hurt.  What did I do?  I sat down and waited him out.  Then I left.  And I never went back.

Now and then I encounter someone who finds out I teach iai who snorts over the idea that "you can't use it for anything."  I always respond that at least I know that for sure, unlike some empty-hand practitioners who somehow think being able to do a wheel kick is going to save them.  (Or a women's self-defense workshop graduate.)  Doing a form of budo that is almost wholly impractical has a nice way of grounding me in reality.

The Reluctant Budoka

I have a female student in my community college class.  She just showed up one day last fall.  For the life of me, I could not understand why in the world she was there.  My class is part of a voluntary program.  No one has to be there.  I don't even have to be there (I don't get paid).  But there she was, week after week.

The thing was, she did not seem to be enjoying the class much.  She is a tiny person (seriously, like half my size), and just handling a bokuto seemed difficult.  But I have had small people before who eventually learn to control the weight of a bokuto (and even a suburito, after awhile).  The thing that got me was her seeming indifference.  Why in the world, I asked myself, was she there?

It turned out (and I have to admit this is clever), that she is taking the class for gym credit.  I realized this when she approached me in January to ask how many classes she had attended since September.  Aha.  Course credit, when I am not getting paid to teach!  Should I be in touch with the union?

So, finally, I had an explanation, though it really made me wonder what was on offer for gym that made my class preferable.  She was there, week after week, as diligent as anyone taking a required, for-credit course could be.  Wobbly sword, minimal footwork, lack of interest in learning to do anything more than she might need to.  Sometimes she was the only person in the class on a given night.  She was disinterested in the legacy of women members of the samurai class, or history, or literature, aesthetics, films or anything else.  She did not want to buy a gi, she did not want to learn to use a saya.  Weirdly, the only thing that interested her was - of all things - kumidachi.  Did I mention she was driving me nuts? 

But something changed in March when I was compiling an equipment order.  She asked for a bokuto, and asked how much one would cost.  I had, since January, at least gotten her to learn how to use a plastic bokuto saya (an episode filled with drama - "I can't!"  Me - "Yes you can. Look, my arms are shorter than yours!  If I can do this, anyone can."  "It's hard!"  Me - "Keep trying!").  No, she was not interested in anything else, just the bokuto, please, so she could practice at home.

Practice at home!  I was truly surprised, but contained my heightened interest.  Who knows, I thought, maybe she's trying for extra credit.  By this time, having been to class steadily for 6 months, she was one of the longer-lasting people, but had little to show for it, technique-wise.  I tried very hard to include her in comments and used her occasionally for demonstrating kumidachi kata, but the vacant look she often had, versus the relative enthusisam of other students, was not very motivating for an instructor.

Somewhere around mid-April the new equipment arrived.  I handed her the bokuto and helped her put on the tsuba and dome'.  She picked out a saya and obi from the equipment bag (incredibly, I no longer have to prompt her to do this), and used her new accessory for class.  Just once, I saw her looking at it with what looked like a new-found sense of pride of ownership. 

Since then I have noticed a slight improvement.  Her stances are a little deeper, and though her chiburi is still wobbly, she is taking corrections.  Last night, I saw those custom-designed nails wrapped more confidently around the tsuka. 

If she's not really careful, she could turn into a real student.