Girls Should Fight.

.....


I had every intention of writing a funny post tonight, but unfortunately my humor has taken a very dark twist lately and usually offends more people than it entertains. Also I'm just not that funny. So I'm defaulting to my regularly scheduled feminist diatribe, which is sure to evoke equal parts eye-rolls and fist pumps, depending on what your personal stance on feminism is. At the end of the day, I honestly don't have two rat's asses to rub together about what anyone else thinks about feminism, I know where I stand on it. And I have some heavy artillery stored up.

People have a lot to say about what women "should" do. I think there are only two things a woman should absolutely do:
1. Know how to do a fierce smokey eye
2. Know how to fight

And I don't mean in the figurative sense, I mean they should literally learn how to throw punches. Let me explain. 

I started taking Thai boxing lessons about four months ago. I grew up watching my mom fight and had never really had any particular interest in martial arts, but I was in the market for a new hobby and it sounded awesome so I jumped in. Enthusiastically and kind of recklessly. 

The best decisions I have made in my life have been on a whim, and this was no exception. Fighting for four short months changed me in a way I wasn't even cognizant of until a couple of weeks ago when I had one of the most bizarre experiences I've ever had.

I was sparring. With a guy. It was only my second time ever sparring and he was much more experienced than me. In short, he beat the crap out of me. I wanted to see it as a positive experience, because I believe that training with more experienced athletes is how you improve, but I honestly just felt totally powerless. All I could do was stand there with my gloves in front of my face and take blow after blow after blow.



My poor sparring partner was obviously unaware that he was accidentally blowing right through some kind of MASSIVE emotional barrier. After a few minutes of taking hits, an unearthly revelation went through my entire body from sweaty ponytail to dirty sticky toes like I had been struck by lightning. 



Hot diggity damn. I can hit back. 

So I did. And it was amazing. And terrifying. I unleashed every blow that I had ever absorbed, buried and hidden on this dude. All the pain, rage, and torment I had been saving up over the course of forever was just spilling out all over the mat and it wanted to drown. F**king. Everyone. For a second, I was some kind of creature. I was a phoenix.

When the bell rang and the round ended, I broke down. I cried like a little girl. In front of everyone. I was totally inconsolable. And I had no idea if what I was feeling was positive or negative. A couple people asked me if I was okay and I didn't even know how to answer. One phrase just kept repeating in my mind: I can hit back. I can hit back. I can hit back. 

My brother used to beat the shit out of me, and that was supposed to be normal. Big brothers are supposed to beat up their little sisters. It's just a thing that happens. When he would come after after me, I would just cover my eyes and hope that if I couldn't see him then he would go away. That didn't really ever work. I distinctly remember the only time I ever thought to hit him back, I chickened out at the last second and just kind of tapped my fist on his eye socket. He laughed like a maniac. He could hit me, but for whatever reason, I felt I wasn't "allowed" to hit him. I just had to cover my eyes and wait for it to be over and then run to my room so he couldn't see me cry. Because responding with emotion was just an invitation for further torment.

Girls. You can hit back.  

You have spent your whole life absorbing blow after blow after blow from men who often don't even realize they are hitting you. When you try to fortify yourself against these blows, your male boss reprimands you for "trying to be too much of a hardass." Yes, that actually happened to me like, four days ago. How do you even possibly begin to describe to a man what it is like to constantly be in a state of submission, powerlessness, silence, and apology? And now he thinks he can tell you that it's unbecoming of you to defend yourself? DAFUQUE. ACTUALLY.  

Girls. Let's stop "defending." 

You don't need "self-defense." When you call it self-defense, you are sending a signal to yourself and to everyone that you are fundamentally the object of attack. Be the attacker. Show the world that if it hits you once, you will hit it back two, three, four times. 

Girls. Learn to fight.

It can rewire you like it is rewiring me. Throw punches and kicks for a few hours a week and you will realize that it feels natural. It feels right to fight. Nowhere has it been proven that just because you aren't a slave to testosterone like your male counterparts that it's unnatural for you to be the aggressor for once. Become a fighter in the gym and you will become a fighter in your life. 

I honestly feel bad for the dudes in my co-ed classes. It must be really awkward to spar with a chick and not know whether you should hit her or take it easy. I'm saying, go ahead and hit her. In addition to having a higher pain threshold in general (science, bitch), she's most likely been a human punching bag for most of her life and can take a hit a helluva lot better than you can. 

Just don't be surprised when she socks you two for every one.