Cho on Nostr: Chapter 1: Introduction – Approaching My Life in Kendo #martialarts #japan #korea ...
Chapter 1: Introduction – Approaching My Life in Kendo
#martialarts #japan #korea #london #melbourne #cultures #sports #gender #masculinity #femininity
Over twenty years ago, my third sensei gave me a Japanese book called *Kendo and Human* (Inoue, 1998). At that time, I had been training in kendo for almost three years. I was a very junior kendoka (the name given to people training in kendo, equivalent to “footballer”), but I was preparing to represent Korea in the World Kendo Championship in America in 2000. My third sensei trained me for eight to ten hours per day. He realized that I did not understand the deeper aspects of kendo. He wanted to introduce me to them, to help me understand practices of self-discipline, self-reflection, and confidence. He thought that this book would help me. It was very difficult to explain and teach some of the skills of high-level kendo to someone as junior as me. It was like a parent trying to teach Shakespeare to a three-year-old. For example, how you win before you even enter the shiaijo (competition area). I started reading this book and found that I couldn’t stop because it fascinated me. Among other key things, I realized that I was just cutting to gain a point, rather than seeking to understand my opponent (the human) and engage them deeply and maturely through kendo.
The author, Inoue, was a well-respected Japanese sensei. His book detailed the morality, ethics, bravery, and manners of kendo. I absolutely adored it. When I moved to London, it was one of the few books I took with me. I treated it the same way as my Bible. It continues to inspire me. However, recently, I reread the whole book again while researching for this thesis. I was very surprised and shocked when I realized that it was meant for men only. Most disappointing of all were the three to four pages on women and women’s kendo. It would have been better if he had not written that section. Inoue sensei thought that women should train to improve their health and become better wives, mothers, and sisters—for beauty rather than strength.
How did I not recognize this sexism at the time? Honestly, back then, I thought it was actually very good advice for a tomboy like me, who had been brought up freely with an older brother. Reflecting on this now reminds me that my third sensei had very similar perspectives to Inoue sensei. When I was training as a strong kendoka, he always told me off. He thought that women’s kendo should be beautiful rather than strong. I understood what he was trying to teach me, but I struggled with it for a long time. Being strong was the best part of my kendo. I did not want to give that up.
My second sensei and I shared the belief that I could beat all women and men, both physically and spiritually. Women could be as strong as men. So, he taught me how to be strong enough physically to beat strong men. One day, he told me to smash the column one hundred times. I did it. My male friends tried to stop me, but I ignored them. The next day, my second sensei made me compete with one of the biggest men in the dojo (193 cm, 120 kg). I found it very easy to make him fall over. No one could believe it, yet after that, I could do it against other huge men as well and easily against other girls. My second sensei had taught me how to do a body attack. It was very fun and glorious.
I was known as a violent girl. I took it as a compliment. When a fight of mine at the (South Korean) SBS Kumdo (Kendo) Championship was broadcast on television, my friends told me that the main commentator was a big fan of mine because I was fighting like a man. But then I started to train with my third sensei, who always told me not to physically attack my opponents. It was so confusing and frustrating. I learned a lot about how to control my strength and how to be flexible from this sensei, but I lost my spirit and physical power. As I have grown older and become a sensei myself, I have benefited from being able to fight beautifully, with good form, rather than relying on my strength. However, I still find that many senseis, especially outside Korea and Japan, continue to doubt my ability to fight well against skillful and physically strong men. It is these experiences—of the pleasures and maturity I have found through kendo, along with moments when men have felt threatened by me, and sometimes tried to seriously wound me—that I want to explore in this thesis. How can we understand the gender relations in kendo—and, more broadly, corporeal politics and combative activities—and improve them so that any woman can enjoy and benefit from activities like kendo without being discriminated against?
https://www.amazon.com/My-Life-Kendo-Masculinity-Cultures-ebook/dp/B0BCYGG3P3
#martialarts #japan #korea #london #melbourne #cultures #sports #gender #masculinity #femininity
Over twenty years ago, my third sensei gave me a Japanese book called *Kendo and Human* (Inoue, 1998). At that time, I had been training in kendo for almost three years. I was a very junior kendoka (the name given to people training in kendo, equivalent to “footballer”), but I was preparing to represent Korea in the World Kendo Championship in America in 2000. My third sensei trained me for eight to ten hours per day. He realized that I did not understand the deeper aspects of kendo. He wanted to introduce me to them, to help me understand practices of self-discipline, self-reflection, and confidence. He thought that this book would help me. It was very difficult to explain and teach some of the skills of high-level kendo to someone as junior as me. It was like a parent trying to teach Shakespeare to a three-year-old. For example, how you win before you even enter the shiaijo (competition area). I started reading this book and found that I couldn’t stop because it fascinated me. Among other key things, I realized that I was just cutting to gain a point, rather than seeking to understand my opponent (the human) and engage them deeply and maturely through kendo.
The author, Inoue, was a well-respected Japanese sensei. His book detailed the morality, ethics, bravery, and manners of kendo. I absolutely adored it. When I moved to London, it was one of the few books I took with me. I treated it the same way as my Bible. It continues to inspire me. However, recently, I reread the whole book again while researching for this thesis. I was very surprised and shocked when I realized that it was meant for men only. Most disappointing of all were the three to four pages on women and women’s kendo. It would have been better if he had not written that section. Inoue sensei thought that women should train to improve their health and become better wives, mothers, and sisters—for beauty rather than strength.
How did I not recognize this sexism at the time? Honestly, back then, I thought it was actually very good advice for a tomboy like me, who had been brought up freely with an older brother. Reflecting on this now reminds me that my third sensei had very similar perspectives to Inoue sensei. When I was training as a strong kendoka, he always told me off. He thought that women’s kendo should be beautiful rather than strong. I understood what he was trying to teach me, but I struggled with it for a long time. Being strong was the best part of my kendo. I did not want to give that up.
My second sensei and I shared the belief that I could beat all women and men, both physically and spiritually. Women could be as strong as men. So, he taught me how to be strong enough physically to beat strong men. One day, he told me to smash the column one hundred times. I did it. My male friends tried to stop me, but I ignored them. The next day, my second sensei made me compete with one of the biggest men in the dojo (193 cm, 120 kg). I found it very easy to make him fall over. No one could believe it, yet after that, I could do it against other huge men as well and easily against other girls. My second sensei had taught me how to do a body attack. It was very fun and glorious.
I was known as a violent girl. I took it as a compliment. When a fight of mine at the (South Korean) SBS Kumdo (Kendo) Championship was broadcast on television, my friends told me that the main commentator was a big fan of mine because I was fighting like a man. But then I started to train with my third sensei, who always told me not to physically attack my opponents. It was so confusing and frustrating. I learned a lot about how to control my strength and how to be flexible from this sensei, but I lost my spirit and physical power. As I have grown older and become a sensei myself, I have benefited from being able to fight beautifully, with good form, rather than relying on my strength. However, I still find that many senseis, especially outside Korea and Japan, continue to doubt my ability to fight well against skillful and physically strong men. It is these experiences—of the pleasures and maturity I have found through kendo, along with moments when men have felt threatened by me, and sometimes tried to seriously wound me—that I want to explore in this thesis. How can we understand the gender relations in kendo—and, more broadly, corporeal politics and combative activities—and improve them so that any woman can enjoy and benefit from activities like kendo without being discriminated against?
https://www.amazon.com/My-Life-Kendo-Masculinity-Cultures-ebook/dp/B0BCYGG3P3