Tanaka Sensei

"We can wear our gi. We aren't smelly like those judo guys." It's weird how the mind works. When I heard about the death of Tanaka Miyako sensei, naginata teacher from San Francisco, this was the first thing I remembered. I heard her voice, after a morning of training in Tendo ryu naginata, as a small debate arose over whether we should change our clothes before heading out for lunch.

Tanaka sensei was small and compactly built, sort of like a miniature tank. She did not seem to have any wrists - her hands came directly from her forearms, a result of many years of training and teaching Tendo ryu naginata and the sport form, Atarashii Naginata. Her steel-grey hair was parted on the side and held back with a single barrette. She wore blue hakama and a white, short-sleeved keikogi. Her voice was loud (and could be louder) and her manner was very, very direct.

I had heard of naginata, and that women primarily practiced it in Japan. I had also heard that it was disappearing (happily not exactly true). So when I found out that Tanaka sensei was teaching an intro seminar at a "sword camp" in eastern Canada, I was happy to go and find out for myself what it was like.

This camp was unique. There were no tests for rank. There was just a crowd of curious koryu budo practitioners, and a teacher with access to facilities at a university campus who shared our curiosity. He invited teachers to come show what they knew to the rest of us. The fee was minimal, as was the cost of the Spartan dorm rooms where we stayed. A teacher of one seminar would teach, say on Saturday morning, and by Saturday afternoon would come to another seminar as a complete beginner. Everyone trained together. Different styles of swordsmanship, naginata, kendo, jodo - participants could pick and choose what interested them. Saturday night, we commandeered the main gym and everyone showed off their styles for each other. No hierarchy. No ego. So. Much. Fun.

Over the course of several summers at the camp, I learned some rudiments of controlling a seven-foot long pole with a "blade" attached (the entire thing - a practice weapon, was made of white oak). "Tendo ryu is always a sword against a naginata - the naginata always wins" Tanaka sensei told us. I was fascinated with this art form, in which the kata had been adapted to actually work with women's bodies - with my body. It seems oxymoronic that such a large weapon would be adapted to people who are generally smaller (as in - women. With the exception of my college women's hockey team, let's face it - women are generally smaller than men. And Japanese women are smaller than many others). Tanaka sensei showed us how to balance the weight, including, from time to time, using our chests to help support the weapon during kata.

And the kata were serious. At the end of one, the naginataka pushes the blade into the swordsman's abdomen, then twists it, effectively eviscerating him. A real naginata also had a stubby spike at the non-blade end. In another kata we worked on, the spike end was thrust onto the swordsman's hip bone. Tanaka sensei showed us how the naginataka could control the swordsman by pushing his hip to move him. Happily for the "swordsman," the wooden practice weapons had flat ends. It was possible to get bruised during practice, but not badly hurt.

Saturday nights at the sword school demos, Tanaka Sensei several times took part in exhibition Atarashii Naginata matches against a volunteer kendo player. This took some nerve on the kendo player's part, as most of them had never faced a naginata player before. The only concession allowed was that the kendoka was expected to wear shin guards, as the shins were legit targets for the longer weapon. Just as in Tendo ryu, the "swordsman" in these matches always lost.

One time on her way home from Canada, Tanaka Sensei was able to stop over in New York. We quickly arranged space for a practice. This being the U.S., there were a good number of men taking part ("I never taught men until I came to the U.S.," she once told me. "I keep asking myself, 'Where are the women?'"). We were dutifully practicing the naginata side of the kata as she came down the floor, armed with a wooden sword sporting an especially thick, hide tsuba (sword guard), engaging each person in the kata as she went. Suddenly, she screeched at the top of her voice and chased a guy (none of us knew him) down the floor. "You trust me? You think I won't do anything? You won't look at me?" she demanded as she took off after him. we found out later that, in spite of being repeatedly told to maintain metsuke by looking into his opponent's eyes, the guy preferred to look anywhere but directly at her. Finally, she decided to teach him a lesson. I remember that one of my dojo kohai talked about her for a full two weeks after that - he had a complete crush on her for some time.

After ten years of summer fun, the camp dissolved for lack of interest. It seemed, according to the organizer, that people were happier to watch YouTube videos of little-known koryu budo rather than trying it for themselves. Though he still gets good turnouts for his regular seminars featuring guest teachers from Japan and ranking examinations, an attempt at reviving the old sword school faltered a couple of years back. Maybe it's also that no one seems to have much time off anymore. I sure don't, but I wish I still did. In almost 30 years of practice, the sword camp was one of the best experiences I ever had. I tell my students of our adventures sometimes. They think I'm nuts, but they seem to appreciate the stories anyway.

Even though I was unable to practice naginata on any regular basis (a group eventually formed in New York, but my schedule was so tightly packed, I was unable to really come to practice), I always cherished my experience with Tanaka Sensei. I loved her directness, and the way she contradicted all of the preconceived notions of what Japanese women are like (or even what American women are supposed to be like). I appreciated her generosity, introducing her art to us, and expanding our experience of koryu budo. As I have gained experience as a teacher I have tried to incorporate her no-nonsense approach. Even though I had not been in touch with her for some years, I feel incredibly sad. The naginataka who told us about her death said, "We are devastated." Me too.