Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Yet another take on the gender conundrum

I spent a little time training in the old country lately. I was fortunate, this time, in that the training seminar was sparsely attended, so I got my butt roundly kicked by some of the most senior people in the organization (as in, the most senior on the planet). This was priceless experience. There have been times, depending on attendance and whether there was a grading in the offing, when I have been thrown into the mix, well above my head, being shown things that I had very little possibility to follow up on, because literally no one on my continent with whom I had contact would know them well enough to teach me (even if they wanted to).

So, as I said, there I was with my own, semi-private menkyo teacher, steeped in tradition. Awesome stuff. And, inevitably, when it came to the two-knees-up (ostensibly male) or one-knee-down (ostensibly female) kamae, I was instructed to put one knee down, or, in some cases, to put both knees down, though with my heels up (i.e. not strictly seiza). Naturally, being in the presence of senior instructors, I did what I was asked to do, even though, as I said in my previous post on this subject, I frequently keep both knees up, since I teach the guys that way. I have also found that it is easier to move from the two-knee-up position than from one knee down. (Incidentally, the position is not iaigoshi, with the heels close together. The knee that is down is even with the other foot, making quick movement, in my opinion, still more difficult).

What interested me was the menkyo kaiden instructor's reasoning for the difference in position. In the US, I have been told that a squatting position for females is "immodest." I find this a little difficult to follow, since in Japanese dance, for instance, both men and women do male and female styles. No one suggests that a woman performing in male style is immodest even though the movements are broader and more spread out. Nor does anyone assume that a man who prefers to perform in female style is somehow - well - incorrect, anyhow.

Instead, the menkyo kaiden explained that women kneel or put one knee down "because they can," and that men squat with knees apart "because they need the room." The implication was that the men were actually being less polite than they should be, but that it was somehow necessary. This actually made everyone within hearing (men and women) laugh.

I laughed too. I don't think the menkyo kaiden was being PC, since he had no need to be; he was offering a completely different, and plausible explanation for the difference in kamae. I mentally considered his comment in light of the list of other things I had heard in the US that turned out to be incorrect (or half correct) - that "Women in Japan don't do long sword" (not true); that "Japan is so sexist, women aren't allowed to train" (ditto); or that "Japanese hate foreigners, so you would not be welcome to train" (also not true, though it would be considered incredibly rude to show up at a dojo in Japan without an introduction, a nicety that is lost on any number of non-Japanese).

I chalk these truisms up to what I call the Cultural Knowledge Gap. There are two reactions to not understanding something: (1) try to find out; or (2) fill in the blank yourself. In my experience, the second of these two reactions seems to be the most common. Fill in the blank, then teach it that way. After all, what is the likelihood of your students ever going to Japan and experiencing the real thing, anyway? Eventually, the person filling in the blank him- or herself thinks it's a probable explanation, and, like a lot of truisms, comes to believe it. As a researcher, I can't tell you how many times I have almost fallen into the same trap. The first time it happened, I was so convinced of my half-baked position, I was really disappointed when I turned out to be wrong. After that, it was easier to accept that I didn't always understand something. Realizing that made me a better teacher, and a better student, able to ask questions instead of making assumptions and sticking to them.

We have this myth in American dojo that the teacher must be right all of the time. In my experience in the Old Country, there seems to be a strong sense, in traditional dojo at least, that even the teachers are just a link (albeit an older link) in the chain of the tradition. Every teacher had a teacher. Some of the students will (hopefully) become teachers. The job is to pass the tradition on in the best and most complete way possible, while realizing that stuff is not exactly frozen in amber.

That's not to say there isn't misunderstanding among teachers in Japan. Countering yet another American myth, not every teacher there has a lock on the correct teaching, or that their personal prejudices don't influence them. (For example, it is possible that another teacher may have come up with "immodest" explanation.) But the higher up the chain you go, the more consistency you find. However, just because it's a tradition doesn't mean it's a monolith. Disagreements regarding technique among senior teachers are fascinating, I can tell you. Which is, after all, part of the fun.

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