More Than Survival

So gashuku is done for another year! My arms are throbbing, and my legs ache whenever I get up, but it’s over and I’m grateful for the experience.

As I suspected, my physical fitness has declined considerably since last year, and I was indeed one of the last in the pack (including the kids, heaven forbid). I found myself tiring faster, and it was disappointing to have to slow to a walk at times when I’m used to pushing through. I really tried to keep up, but I didn’t have enough in the tank, and it was sad to realise that my best wasn’t quite good enough (in this context). I nevertheless enjoyed the forest, and running so hard in the cold weather that when we finally stopped to train at the lookout we were literally steaming. Pretty special stuff!

My new shoes held up wonderfully, bless them. They were perfect for the trails and gravel, and invaluable for their waterproof shell and gore-tex lining. (And they did indeed get soaked when I accidentally stepped into one of the many streams on the property.) As loathesome as I found it to buy two pairs of shoes within the same fortnight, I have to admit they were 100% worth it.

The swims were… worse than I anticipated. The bathers situation was not a great concern for me because I was more worried about my literal survival: the water was so cold it hurt, and I found it so hard to will myself to keep taking steps into that icy abyss. But I did, and eventually I swam, and I only swallowed a very little bit of water as I half-bounced, half-paddled in the shallows. But then it was over, and I knew the worst part of the day was behind me (until the next day at least), and that made everything easier.

The gender thing was about the same as normal. Sensei S and Sensei K got my pronouns right about half the time, which is their usual level of accuracy. And as is custom during the camps, Sensei S was filming many of the techniques and applications to put on YouTube. My heart fell as he referred to me as “he” twice, and I realised that I’d not only be immortalised as a “he”, but that the video might be shared publicly… It was such a painful thought.
And then he self-corrected, and my heart lifted again.

I had started to think that I could avoid pronouns entirely with the kids (they didn’t even know my name for the entire two days they were with me), but right at the end of the second day Sensei K called me “he” in front of the whole group. And I felt like in that moment he was telling the kids that they could call me “he” too if they liked.
And one of them did a few minutes later, as they talked to their friend about me. And as I felt the pain of it, I contemplated saying something, but… those kids (and most kids, I imagine) were so direct when they didn’t understand something, and I wasn’t quite prepared for the questions they might have. So I let it slide without educating them, and buried the pain inside me.

There were some other weird gender moments with Sensei K, too. At one point he grinned as he told two of the long-haired boys that someone had mistaken them for girls. The way he said it didn’t sound like a compliment, and he went on to tease them by calling them “pretty”. Then he realised what he was doing, and rather than apologising he doubled-down, saying although boys supposedly have strengths that others don’t have, it’s good to have feminine strength too. And in his mind I’m sure he thought he nailed the whole gender equality thing, but I found it so utterly lacking.
And when he addressed the seniors, he said “Well done gentlemen.” Then guiltily locking eyes with me, he belatedly added “And ladies. And people!” And most of us laughed as I thanked him for including me. Then he did that shitty doubling-down thing again, where he quoted a conversation we’d had the night before about song lyrics. Something about a dog saying “I’m not an it, I’m a someone.” He turned to me and said “There you go [Eclorer], you’re a someone.” And I was like thanks? Are you saying I’m a dog, or an it? And he really did seem pleased with himself for thinking about gender so critically, and breaking down norms and treating everyone equally or whatever, but fuck it was a clumsy job.
(He made a similar comment last week about an Aerosmith song, saying “Dudes that look like ladies” or something, and then asked if I appreciated that and I was like “I don’t know what that means.” I think he was appreciating that men can look feminine if they want to, and be comfortable in that. But then, was he saying that I’m a man and should be proud of looking feminine??)

To my surprise, I wore my two sports bras the whole weekend. I wasn’t planning on taking them, but threw them in my luggage at the last minute. It really helped to be connected to femininity, and to feel that secret hug wrapping around me at every moment, and to love the way my chest looked. It wasn’t super obvious under my bulky karate gi-jacket, but I did strip down to my t-shirt for a few exercises. I loved the way I looked, and I think people probably noticed, but no one said anything (except possibly some kids, but they could have been talking about anything). And even though we were doing lots of grappling and striking, I don’t think anyone ever punched me in the chest and went “Huh, that’s unusally padded.” I guess the gi-jacket made it hard to notice, but I won’t be able to wear two layers when it gets to summer, so it’s a temporary solution. I’ll solve that problem another day.

The tea ceremony went great. I only made one or two small mistakes. Mostly I was cringing as people handled the bowl awkwardly, or tipped a dozen konpeito out when I suggested maybe three or five would be a good amount. But it was a lovely ceremony, and quite special, and I talked at length about the ritualised movements, and the production of matcha, and Japanese etiquette. Everyone said they enjoyed it, and I’m glad I could finally share it with them so they’ll always remember that night. (It was a pity that Sensei K’s wife wasn’t able to make it. She has a shodan in tea ceremony, and had given me two manuals on the subject, so I asked her to be second-guest to help the others. Unfortunately it turned out that Sensei K did not consult her about the timing, and I guess he decided that the best solution was to do it without her.)

Although my crippling fear of children made it hard for me to go near them or talk to them, I did occasionally push myself to ask the occasional question, or tell them off for misbehaving, or give out a well-earned compliment. And by the end of the weekend, they didn’t seem to fear me as much. In fact, one of them gave me the high honour of snarling and hissing at me whenever she saw me, and then going back to meowing and crawling around on all fours. Her mother said it was a sign she liked me, and I told her I already knew and I liked her too.

I learned a little more about myself from watching the girls, too. Firstly, I fricking loved that some of them brought books and preferred to read alone rather than play with the others. I was especially impressed when one of them squatted on the edge of a chair for half an hour while they lay the book in front of them.
Secondly, they inspired me with their confidence. One of them in particular was utterly at ease wearing short-shorts and a tank top, and she was not at all self-conscious about her sports-bra showing through her sleeves. Frankly I didn’t know anyone could be so confident about their body, especially under Sensei K’s tutelage, but he didn’t seem to mind. Maybe… Maybe one day I’ll be more comfortable in myself at the dojo?
It really helped to see someone else do it so I know it’s possible. I hate that I find it so stressful, but I’m so scared of people judging me for being openly feminine in karate. Heck, Sensei K teased a girl for brushing her hair.

And that brings me to my final musings for this blog. Gashuku was hard, and after completing it, I became hard too. I toughened up, and it was kinda great, and also maybe not for me (not all the time, anyway).
Getting caught in the rain? No big deal, I won’t melt. No umbrella needed, it’s just water. (I usually carry my umbrella anytime it rains, even if it’s light.)
Got a bit of mud on me? Ah that’s fine, I’ll just wash it off in the river. (Which normally freaks me out because it’s full of bacteria we were told not to get in our mouths.)
Gotta go for a difficult run? Sure, I’ll do what I need to. Build a fire, stay up late, punch a guy, I got it.
Teach a class? Yeah, no biggie. I’ve done harder things today.

Things that I would have normally found challenging or uncomfortable I just brushed off. If it wasn’t going to kill me, I just didn’t care.
And that’s the problem.
There are lots of things that I treasure that aren’t matters of life-and-death. And by blunting my sensitivity to those things, I handled them carelessly and didn’t make space to appreciate them. And I don’t like doing that.

I think Sensei K toughens himself up by teaching several times a week. And while he’s in teacher-mode, he has to be a good example, to be the toughest among us so we keep respecting him, and learn to be strong too. And he’s in that “If it’s not life-or-death, toughen up and get on with it” mode almost all the time. Yes he has his moments of softness and vulnerability, but rarely around us, who he has to keep inspiring.

It’s good to be tough sometimes. To have strong armour plates, so nothing really hurts you, and you can just do what needs to be done.
But I don’t want that, at least not all the time. I want my feelings. I want my thoughts. I need to unpack, and reflect, and be gentle. I need connection, and authenticity, and vulnerability. And smothering those things in order to harden up… it’s just not who I want to be. And if I am to harden myself, I want it to be at moments of my choosing, not my default due to a long practice of crushing the weakness out of me twice or thrice a week.

I’ll still keep training, because I love the techniques and the exercise. But as Sensei K pulls on me to go harder, to be more, I’ll try to forgive myself if I am less than ideal in his eyes.
I strive to no longer need his approval in order to still see myself as worthy of love.
And I know that it’s easy to say this now, but next time he tells me to jump in class I’ll probably just fricking launch myself without even asking how high.
But I’m working on it.
And if he’s disappointed with my lack of effort, I’ll be proud of myself for loving myself enough to ease off.

I’ve got a lot to figure out about what I want from my martial arts school, and whether I can get that elsewhere. At any rate, the camp is over for this year and I won’t need to worry about it for a while yet. By the next one I’ll probably have been on oestrogen for 11 months and going by she/her pronouns, so that’ll be weird for the kids, but I am not worrying about that right now. Right now I’m going to get some much-needed sleep. Must remember to bring warmer pyjamas next year. Night all.