The Sunshine Post #7

Hello dears!

A couple of nights ago, I took my first arnis class after so long. Arnis, or kali, is a Filipino martial art that primarily consists of stick- and blade- fighting and emphasizes flow over power. I thought that I may as well re-learn it from its birthplace, and maybe even teach a thing or two to my teachers back in New York.

I was a bit afraid of getting hit in the face – something that is also possible, although less likely, to happen in taekwondo. As for the latter art, the worst thing that happened to me was when I was 13 years old. During kicking drills, I fell in line at the back of an eight-year-old kid who was pretending to be the Pink Power Ranger (He was a boy, too. How gay.) He turned to me, shouted "Yaaah!" and kicked me in the crotch, forcing me to my knees in unspeakable (!) pain. Never was I more thankful not to be a boy at that moment – I'm sure the pain would have been infinitely worse had that been so. (I'm ok, by the way.)

I've accidentally kicked many a boy in the nether regions over time; there came a class where I was standing to one side, absently observing my fellow students, and then thought to myself: "Hmm, you know, I have kicked everyone here in the balls." It's really the only reason why some of them are careful around me; they actually place their hands in front of their pants as a precaution. One of my teachers, Fabiano, would always yell, "Cate! Knees up!" to coax my legs make contact with the person's torso instead. None of my taekwondo teachers got my name right in the beginning.

Surprisingly, it was hard for me to find a class here; I was given a cellphone number of some stranger who told me they had an all-boys club that they don't advertise. That night, I left for the class and told my dad that my contact's name, Bernie, is short for Beatrice. (It's actually Bernard.) I just didn't want him to panic since I was the only girl there in the company of much older, much more muscular guys.

For the record, I have pretty good instincts and I didn't feel that there was any reason for me not to go. (As insurance, I did tell one of the interns here where I would be.) Plus, I think I've trained for a while and I have been under so many martial arts masters that if something happened and I couldn't defend myself for one lousy night where I had weapons with me and I was completely lucid, then by God I deserved to get a couple of black eyes.

There's something to be said about being the lone bouncy female in the company of grown men who live to fight. I think they are caught in between disbelief and amusement. Hmph. On the bright side, I didn't care whether I hit them. Haha! Do I look helpless to you? Take that! And that! And that! I think of all the negative experiences I have had in graduate school and that is enough to fuel my rhythm.

They were really nice; it was one of the best and well-rounded classes I've taken – double sticks, single stick, blades, and empty grappling! Woohoo! But I don't think I'll take the class again though, and it's not for reasons you think. The commute is just way too long and polluted; my face broke out in zits that night and I am now in dire need of a facial. I miss my aesthetician in Maria Badescu, yo. Olga from Ecuador! She exfoliates quite well.

I learned the hard way that martial arts was the way for me to release hidden anger that I am incapable of unleashing the verbal way. I used to think it was a cultural thing, but now, not so much. But I just can't scream at people for some reason; it adds to my stress and makes me break out. It is easier for me to ignore you and forget you existed. In hindsight, I've always lived in my own little world of happy. It is a selective form of ADD.

I think that's one reason I've always gravitated towards weapons. The first time I held my nunchucks was incomparable; you just cannot photocopy that kind of happiness anywhere, man. Whee! I was swinging them around like Day-Glo sticks, and my first teacher said he had never seen anyone take to them so naturally before. (I took that as a compliment for my sake.) Ever since then, I've been collecting and learning how to use contact weapons, and so far, I think my favorites are the sai and the bo staff. Now all I need is a samurai sword and I'm a walking Ninja Turtle.

I think it's also why I like arnis in general. The clash of stick on stick is supremely satisfying, with its frequency reverberating through my body, making me feel so high with adrenaline. It's why I like ending my days with martial arts, or yoga, or anything physical. I feel so much calmer, like all of the problems in the world are reduced to a swing of a weapon, a kick to a target, or a minute of meditation. It just makes life easier and bearable and puts things in perspective.

All the guys who trained with me that night had one common thing to say:

"Don't hit so hard!"

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "I have a lot of aggression."


Lots of love,
Cathy