Boys did karate and girls did ballet. It was therefore natural that when my father gave me the choice of what to do after school to keep fit, I said karate.
They never told me that some girls did karate too.
Karate took place on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I used to walk past the dojo on the way home after school. Amidst the dust in the streets and swirls of leaves, I walked home with Dan. He and I used to talk about fighting as we scurried through the streets. We discussed the throws and kicks and punches that we'd like to use on Patrick and Max and the rest of the bullies out there. Deep in thought about how we would thwart the plans of the worlds villains, we barely noticed the cars and smog that hung thick in the summer air.
We separated at Oak street. I turned left and walked another block before I got home. He still had another five minute walk before he reached his mother's house. When I reached home, I had a half-hour reprieve in which I'd eat lunch before Mom began hounding me with my homework and studying.
Fifth Grade came, and we were too old to waste time playing sport in school. Dan started playing soccer after school. While he stayed at school, I was forced to walk home alone.
I don't know what did it, but around the time I stopped walking home with Dan, I began to fear the dojo. The boys who were there were suddenly scary. Through the windows, I watched scrawny boys like me get thrown and beat over and over again. My fantasies of beating up Patrick faded away.
Father gave me an ultimatum a month after the start of the fifth grade: karate or ballet. I didn't really want to learn karate, but the options Father gave me didn't amount to much of a choice. It was karate or ballet and I was not going to do ballet. Only girls did ballet.
The first time I visited the dojo, I was more nervous than I'd ever been. They used to beat me up at school and I knew I couldn't fight. More painful than the bruises that Patrick dealt with his colossal punches, though, was the anticipation of being the worst at karate in the class. My fears were somewhat realized.
I tried not to look like too much of a fool. The faces of all of the boys in the dojo were incredulous as I walked in. Most of the children had been learning karate for a while. Impressive sashes and belts were tied around their white robes. I was wearing jeans.
I wasn't the only new member of the dojo, though. Anna also started karate the same week as me. She was wearing proper karate clothes. There were no other girls in the class. Naturally, as the only other new member, I was paired up with her. Immediately, my dreams of Max and Patrick getting a taste of their own medicine flew out of the window. Fighting a girl would never prepare me for the brutal real world.
The class stood in a square formation. It felt like every child in the dojo had his eyes trained on my back. I could feel myself blush as my arms clumsily flailed forward in a lousy attempt at a punch. I was too caught up in my own embarrassment to even think of looking at Anna to see how she was faring.
My humiliation lasted an hour.
I could feel the blood rising to my face as I clumsily attempted the kata. My head down, I pushed on kicking and punching and moving my feet. I did not count the number of times the Sensei came past me to correct my balance. I moved through the moves one by one. With each move, I felt a little more like giving up. With each move I pushed a little harder. Harder than I thought possible.
The session passed, and the others filtered out. As I walked towards the exit, I heard the voice of Sensei. He said, “Good session, Anna.” When I walked out, he said, “You're going to need to practice that, my boy. Brad, you want to get strong, don't you?”
I went home shamed. I felt weak. Looking back, I was weak. Both physically and mentally.
I thought for a long time about going back to the dojo the following on Monday. The truth is, I was scared. Thankfully, I didn't know any of the other boys there, yet. I didn't think it would be long before their shyness wore off and they would start to bully me. I was right, it was only three more training sessions.
At the time I didn't know his name, but Marcus was the first to confront me before the start of training.
“Hey, Monkey-boy,” he said. He waved his arms flippantly, mocking me and my clumsy approach to karate. Nobody came to my defense. I wanted to just ignore him, but my face flushed a crimson red, and I fumbled for a second.
To salvage the last of my honor, I responded. “Hi, Monkey-girl.” There were several snorts of laughter. In a second, though, they were gone. He didn't blush or falter. He merely looked at me with cold eyes. He made his way to the center of the dojo.
“Brave, but stupid,” he said. “You scared, Monkey-boy?”He slipped into a fighting stance and brandished his fists. For a moment the room was frozen. It was then that Sensei chose to walk in.
“Looking to fight, Marcus?” the Sensei asked.
“No, Sir,” said Marcus, his voice not terribly convincing. “I was just warming up.”
“I apologize for finding myself unconvinced, Marcus, but in the three years you've been here, you've never had such an enthusiastic attitude toward karate.” He paused for a moment, giving Marcus an opportunity to respond. After a few seconds he said, “Okay, everyone, let's begin.”
I looked towards Sensei with grateful eyes. He might have smiled for a second, but if he had, his face had become blank fast enough to conceal it.
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