Confessions of BJJ Women

You thought only men farted or got aroused on the mat? Think again. Here is our first installment of BJJ confessions from myself, Liz, and a few other anonymous BJJ ladies!

• I thought jiujitsu sounded stupid the first time I heard of it, years before I started training. How wrong I was.

• During intense competition training one day, I was spotting between periods and bled through my gi pants. My friend tried to say something, but I was so worked up that I ignored her and completed the class with a big red stain on my pants. Later she said, "I tried to tell you!"

• I avoid some techniques because I have small panic attacks when my legs get trapped. I can't even sleep with the sheets tucked in. I don't know why, but my body freaks out and it almost hurts.

• Sometimes I get slightly aroused against my will doing certain moves, like when people grab between my legs in side control. I can’t help it, and it makes me glad that being female means no one can tell.

• One time I was rolling with my coach when I felt a fart coming on. I stopped moving and clenched my butt cheeks. My coach said, “Come on, don’t give up now! You have to keep moving, dig deep!” I bit my lip and kept going, praying that I wouldn’t fart on him.

• I did fart on my coach, and it was loud enough to echo off the walls. I tried to cover it up with a cough, but he was smirking.

They do, and it will happen in their triangle. Enjoy.

• I only know how to tie my belt the "super knot" way and not the traditional way.

• I was practicing the fan sweep and really trying to put the hip thrust motion into it as hard as I could. My partner was a newbie and apparently hadn’t figured out he should wear spandex under his gi pants. I could feel his boner.

• Teammates have commented on my smooth legs (in a non-creepy way), but I rarely ever shave above my knees thanks to gi pants.

• I hold grudges when men bully and muscle me around on the mat, and I make them pay when I finally get the upper hand whether it's in the same roll or two weeks later.

• I was going for the belt when I grabbed my partner’s balls--a whole handful of them. He played it cool, but I was mortified.

Ball control, 10 out of 10.

• During a no-gi match for gold, my shirt rolled up my stomach, and I got self-conscious with everyone watching. She passed my guard because I stopped to pull my shirt down.

• Jiujitsu is a spiritual experience for me. The gym is my sanctuary.

• I convinced my coaches I didn't want to work with one guy because he was too spazzy. In actuality, I didn't want to work with him because he always grabbed my ass--in rolls, in drills, and even when we lined up to say goodbye. (Disclaimer: I should have told my coaches. Please tell someone if this happens to you.)

• I like being in back control because it feels like cuddling.

• I once unintentionally caressed my coach's balls with my foot while trying to learn De La Riva guard. I kept my foot there a few awkward seconds too long trying to figure out why his thigh was so soft.

Check out this Instagram page for more hilarious confessions! 

Have a confession of your own and want to include it in our next installment anonymously? Send it to us at liz.meg223@gmail.com!

The Color of the Belt

By Liz

I remember when I was an energetic and spastic white belt with a naive heart full of hope and eyes full of wonder for the world of jiujitsu. I was like a recently inducted member of a secret cult; or perhaps a new lover eager to please; or an addict needing a fix. I recall lining up in rank order at the end of the queue, and sometimes I would lean my head forward just an inch and sneak a look out of the corner of my right eye. Outstretched before me was a long row of colorful belts like they were mocking me and saying, “You are literally THE worst.”

I remember when I was a white belt, I idolized the blue belts like they were demigods. The purple belts? They were (are) practically gods. The brown and black belts? I won’t even mention those gods of gods. (I am not worthy! *kowtows* I am not worthy!)

When I rolled with blue belts, their technique dominated mine. They could fold me into a pretzel, armbar me in their sleep, and pass my guard before I even got in guard. They had fancy techniques I’d never seen and could manipulate my limbs like it was their job. They seemed so experienced, so COOL. They were the eighth graders in middle school, the cool kids in the cafeteria, the seniors in high school. They seemed untouchable to me. They were what I wanted so badly to be. They gave me advice, and I hung on to every word. They intimidated me with their skill and experience, and with their jokes, handshakes, nods, and knowing smiles. They were all friends with each other, and I was the awkward and uncoordinated noob.

Being a white belt definitely feels like adolescence sometimes.

After I’d had my white belt for one year and four months, a friend hinted that if I did well at the next tournament, I might be ready for my blue belt. “No way,” I responded, though inside I was doing cartwheels. Maybe, just maybe, it was time for me to enter the rank of the blues.

I did relatively well at that tournament. In no-gi, I lost by points in the finals after barely missing an armbar (and, somewhat regretfully but not really, fucking up the girl’s elbow because she refused to tap). In gi, I lost in the finals by points to a ferocious white belt who was also the wife of a famous black belt. So that one didn’t really even count, right?

My coaches kept telling me how proud they were of me. “How long have you had your white belt?” one coach asked me after my matches were over. “A little over a year,” I responded shyly. Could this be it? Could this be the moment I’m finally promoted?

Indeed, a couple days later during morning training, the two coaches who had helped me the most in my training up to that point promoted me to blue belt. Finally, all my hard work had amounted to something great. I was one step higher on the totem pole. I was bursting with pride.

The thrill of being a blue belt was short-lived.

Whereas yesterday I was a highly skilled white belt, suddenly overnight I became a sucky blue belt.

After a belt promotion there’s elation and ecstasy and then… you crash. It’s gone in the next moment. You fall low and you can practically feel the vertigo as you drop suddenly… now what? You’ve worked so hard to get to this point and now that it’s here… and it’s almost anti-climactic… under-whelming. It’s on to the next stripe, the next belt color.

I lost pretty badly at the next five competitions I participated in. I doubted myself as a blue belt for the next two years. I couldn’t stop that nagging feeling in the back of my head that kept saying, “You only got promoted to blue belt because you’re female.”

I could just imagine the coaches' conversation, as if I had eavesdropped: “Well… she’s pretty good… for a girl. We should just give her a blue belt because she tries really hard.” In other words, not unlike the awful pity fuck, I thought they had given me a pity promotion. After all, how could I deserve my blue belt when I was still getting destroyed by white belts?

Note to self: Try not to make up assumptions and conversations in your head. You’re almost always completely wrong.

Now, coming up on the third anniversary of my blue belt promotion, I feel more confident with my blue belt status.  

However, even after three years as a blue belt, I would be horrified if I was promoted to purple belt anytime in the foreseeable future. Sure, it would be nice to be acknowledged by my coaches for the time and effort I’ve spent on the mat. The seduction of external validation is not entirely lost on me.  

I’d still prefer to just curl up with my blue belt and hang out in mediocrity. Sometimes I don’t want to have the pressure of having to perform at a higher level.

In one sense, I think that’s why we get promoted: to push us into the ranks of the next level. I would guess there are tons of people in my gym who would love to stay blue belts forever. Because once we get promoted, the pressure mounts and we’re expected to perform at a certain level. It pushes us to keep improving.

Yet… why? Why does it matter what color my belt is? It shouldn’t matter. It simply means that you’ve been doing jiujitsu for a certain period of time. And yet… it carries some undeniable baggage along with it. And I think everyone experiences and interprets that baggage differently.

Maybe it’s an ego thing. It would be nice to remain as a good blue belt for the rest of eternity. I just want to stay in my comfort zone. My blue belt is like a security blanket now, a kind of shield that keeps me from the shame of being dominated by purple belts and keeps me doing relatively well at tournaments.

I feel no shame whatsoever when a purple belt dominates me, like one did the other day so much that my head spun and I started seeing stars, I walked off the mat licking my wounds with the comforting thoughts of, “Well, she was a purple belt. Of course she’s better than me. She’s probably been doing jiujistu for like 15 years.”

As a blue belt, white belts still tap me out occasionally. And when that happens, my ego gets bruised really bad.

In situations when we feel our ego pulling a temper tantrum, I think it’s important to remember jiujitsu is about the process--of learning, of challenging yourself, of trying something new, of being vulnerable.

The thrill of jiujitsu for me comes with trying something new even when I’m scared of losing the position. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten my guard passed by a white belt because I was trying to work butterfly or X-guard, or gotten swept when trying a new submission.

Yet that one in a millionth time when you’re actually successful with a new move? That is thrilling like nothing else, and in a second we’re transported back to our white belt inner-child, high on cloud-nine after finishing a triangle.

And yet the thought of getting my purple belt terrifies me. When I get my purple, I will return to the bottom of the totem pole again, this time as a sucky purple belt.

When we feel we are sucking at life or sucking on the mat, it’s important to remember it’s not the people who are good at stuff who we respect. It’s not just because we have a blue or a black belt that people are going to respect us, or even how well we can close that triangle. It’s the people who make an effort whom we respect. It’s the people who approach the world with adventure, who are okay with failure, and who reach out with compassion--those are the people who we respect.  

Liz started jiujitsu in 2011, got her blue belt in 2013, and has competed in 11 competitions.

Building Respect

By Liz

This post was originally titled, “Building Respect as a Female Coach.” Meg and I are both coaches of primarily male students at our respective gyms, and thus feel we have unique perspectives and useful advice on coaching BJJ. However, I changed the title because I think the following is relevant to everyone, not just jiujitsu coaches. Because at the end of the day, building respect as a female coach is really about building respect for yourself as a person.

For a variety of historical, societal, and cultural reasons, women often find themselves struggling for the respect they deserve. As female coaches, we need to make a concerted effort to build rapport with our students because respect usually doesn’t come easily to us.

This post is meant to help with that by sharing some advice and experiences on building respect. I briefly talked about setting high standards, instilling confidence in others, and expressing compassion towards insecurity on the mat in a previous post. Here, I’m first going to discuss my thoughts on practicing courage and compassion by setting clear boundaries. Second, I’m going to share some practical tips on building respect and communicating value.

COURAGE AND COMPASSION

Building respect with your students is about striking a balance between courage and compassion. Or as I sometimes like to think, commanding respect is about being a chocolate-covered pretzel: salty and sweet at the same time.

What I mean by “courage” in this context is the act of firmly setting, clearly communicating, and consistently maintaining your standards and boundaries. Shout-out to Brene Brown and Kristin Neff (check out their books I’ve linked to here) for inspiring me in this arena.

First one needs to take the time to decide what the ground rules are going to be. For example, lateness will not be tolerated, and each student must do 1 burpee for every 1 minute they are late. No talking while I’m talking, and talking will result in getting kicked off the mat. Rude or inappropriate behavior will result in a firm talking-to after class.

Now here comes the hard part: sticking to your boundaries. This is the scary part for most of us. I know when I set out to punish a student, sometimes my voice gets shaky and face gets hot. It takes courage to put your foot down.

Think about any good parent, teacher, or coach you have had in your past. This is what sets them apart from the rest: they clearly communicated their standards, but also maintained their boundaries.

As soon as you let someone disregard a boundary you have clearly communicated to them, you show them that they can break rules with no consequences. You lose respect as an authority figure in that moment.

In addition to maintaining your boundaries, the other key to building mutual respect with your students is in setting high standards. I could keep going over mount escapes with my students every single week, but I make sure to keep them progressing through more and more challenging techniques because I know they can rise to the challenge.

By presenting them with a high standard and expecting them to live up to it, I communicate to them that I respect them as students able to execute challenging techniques, which instills in each one of them a sense of confidence and I gain respect as a teacher in the process.

After all, why should they try to raise your low standards if you communicate that you don’t believe in them?

There is one more crucial aspect to building respect as a coach: compassion. Setting boundaries is a key component of compassion. After all, how can you practice compassion with your students if they are walking all over you?  

Jiujitsu is an incredibly vulnerable and scary sport, and anyone who sets foot on the mat deserves major props just for trying it out. It’s a new thing for most people and so by approaching each person with compassion in knowing that person is insecure (because we all are insecure whether or not we’re on the mat, but especially on the mat), we engage in our shared humanity.

This does not mean letting anything fly because you feel bad for them. It means understanding that this person is going through a moment of suffering in insecurity, and to reach out to them with understanding, respect and kindness. Let them know they are brave, they are a valuable student whether or not they are “good,” and they are doing something good for themselves mentally and physically. Never forget your actions and words have the power to inspire or discourage other people.

Try reaching out to the new person on the mat to give them extra attention and praise, or show some advanced techniques to the top students. Consider publicly rewarding those who improve, help others, and try hard--not just the ones who can berimbolo or tap out fellow students.

COMMUNICATING VALUE

Building respect with others revolves around the following principle: people respond to you how you expect to be treated.

How does one communicate an expectation of respect?

We must first respect ourselves and approach our students with a genuine belief that we are high value. People can sense this. Your students can tell when you are shy or nervous, which shows them you don’t think of yourself as high value.

How can you expect anyone to respect you if you don't even respect yourself?

How can we cultivate in ourselves this notion of high value and effectively communicate our high value to others? We’re all insecure. So how do we get into the high-value mindset in order to establish respect from our students?

Here are some practical tips to get into the mindset that you are a valuable coach. This was actually adapted from a guide I randomly found on Reddit for pick-up game, but I’ve adapted it to fit my own life because I think it’s useful for all different kinds of situations.

1. Think positively and get into the persona

Create a persona for your jiujitsu coaching and force yourself to think this over and over (even if it isn't true yet or you don't believe it).

My persona is:

• I’m awesome
• I am a beast and master of jiujitsu 
• I frequently have people seeking my instruction
• My time is valuable and not to be wasted by slackers or disrespectful students
• Teaching jiujitsu is totally normal for me

Going back to the main principle I began with: people respond to you how you expect to be treated. So you need to develop a mindset of how you expect to be treated when you are coaching. What I expect:

• I’m here to have fun and learn from my students as much as they learn from me.
• My students appreciate my presence and my instruction; they are not late for class.
• My students respect me and are eager to learn from me; they do not talk when I’m talking or talk back to me. 
• My students are looking to me as a role model and are trying their best; they do not slack off during technique drilling or rolling.  

Drill these expectations in your head and respond to your students genuinely as if that is where you are coming from, even if you doubt yourself at first. This is a self-fulfilling prophecy: when you are expecting to find respect, you will start noticing the little things students do to show their respect--and you will be able to easily point out when students are actually disrespecting you.

You need to communicate to your students that instructing jiujitsu is completely normal for you. I’m not saying you should pretend you have all the answers when you don’t; it’s perfectly acceptable to say, “I don’t know.” But it’s important to communicate that you are totally confident when saying, “I don’t know.”

2. Not thinking negatively

Anytime you find yourself having self-deprecating thoughts, take 5-10 seconds and stop yourself. Take 5 minutes if you need to, but once you silence the negative thoughts, replace them with good thoughts and beliefs, using the above persona.

3. Memories

Make a list of your successes and your good memories of teaching and training jiujitsu. Maybe a win at a competition or a time when a student told you that you’ve inspired them. Lock those in and force yourself to remember them, and let them give you confidence.

4. The Process

Before instructing, get yourself into a good space. Relive your successes, and repeat your expectations and positive mindsets. Shut down any negative thoughts.

After the class, remember the session and again focus on your successes. Going through failures is fine, but once you think through them once, tell yourself, "I've learned everything I can from that, and thinking about it longer is just harmful," then shut it out. As you grow, focus on how much you have improved in your jiujitsu and your instruction.

These principles ring true for parents, teachers, coaches, friends, and significant others. It’s a balance between the salty and sweet, and one that can only be learned after making mistakes with mindful self-awareness. Believe in your high value and everything else will follow.

Liz has been training jiujitsu since 2011 and got her blue belt in 2013. 

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Training in Thailand: The Heart of the Matter

Guest post by Sarah Tynen

Meg and I with Professor Olavo.

On our first day of training in Thailand, we walked into the mat room. It was a large, air-conditioned, L-shaped room with wall-to-wall cushy judo mats and motivating phrases such as “For just one day in your life, train with the will to die.” plastered on the wall. I scanned the room, quickly surveying the situation. Were there any other women?

In a class of about 20 men, there was one other girl there that day, a white belt in a pink gi, her long, blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. Near the end of our first training session on that Monday afternoon, I rolled with her once. She was tough: aggressive, feisty, smart, and technical. I caught her in one submission, a triangle.

After we rolled, we lined up against the wall, waiting to be chosen for the next roll, and she turned to me. “How long are you going to be here?” she asked with a big smile on her face. “Just a week,” I replied. “Oh, not long enough! That’s so short… there’s so much I could learn from you, it’s a shame you’re not staying longer.” I just grinned in response. Girl power for the win. Unfortunately I didn’t see her again after that day.

The next day during the noon session, a petite girl with four stripes on her blue belt (“That’s basically a purple belt,” Meg whispered to me during the water break) showed up to class. That day we were practicing the bow-and-arrow choke from standing back control, and the girl was paired up with a short but very large man. I ran up to her and asked if she’d like to join Meg and me. She said yes and joined us. She was friendly and warm. She then told us she had been training at PTT for a couple years. We'll say her name was Leslie. While we were practicing the move, I noticed that although she looked petite, she was actually very strong. Her jiujitsu was tough and technical.

After practicing that move for a while, we had sparring time, but neither Meg nor I got a chance to roll with Leslie. After we shook hands at the end of class, I asked Leslie if she’d like to roll. “Sorry, I’m really tired today,” she said. Then she added, “To be honest, I don’t roll with women. I don’t know why, I just have a phobia of rolling with other women.”

Say what now? You have a phobia of rolling with other women?

She explained, “I’ve had some bad experiences, and I just get really nervous. I just don’t know how to roll with other women, so I just don’t do it. It’s a serious phobia. I’m terrified of it.”

At that moment, Meg came running up and said, “Seriously, it’s so nice to meet you, I’m so glad you’re here.” Then Leslie broke the news to her: “I was just telling Sarah, I have a phobia of rolling with women. You can ask Professor Olavo. I never roll with women.” Olavo came over and related a story to us about how one time Leslie made another girl cry during a roll.

Somehow amidst the conversation, I clearly remember saying, “That’s totally fine if you’re not comfortable with it, I don’t want to pressure you,” but then I suggested flow rolling, so she said okay. We started flow rolling and about 30 seconds in, she said, “But you’re not even trying, you’re not even resisting me.” I replied, “Yeah, I’m flow rolling.”

She looked puzzled and said, “I guess I don’t really know how to flow roll.” So I suggested we could roll with more resistance, and she said okay. While we were rolling, things escalated really fast. She was going 100%, almost spazzing out on me, strong, aggressive, fast, but also a bit out of control. Before I knew it, her knee hit my jaw hard. She immediately stopped and apologized, “See this is why I don’t roll with women. It freaks me out. I get scared and anxious and then people end up getting hurt.” I shook hands with her, said it was all good, and told her not to worry. Feeling somewhat awkward, I excused myself and headed out.

Our Phuket Top Team nogi class.

On our walk back to the hotel, Meg kept saying over and over, “I just don’t understand how or why this is a thing.” Indeed, it was very strange. This is how I understood it. I have to admit that it is different and nerve-wracking to roll with other women for me sometimes, especially women of the same rank as myself. If she’s a white belt, then I don’t worry and I focus on technique. If she’s a purple belt, I know she’s going to dominate me.

But if she’s a blue belt, there’s a little inkling of competition, of anxiety to prove myself and my belt level (though I realized this is an unhealthy attitude, I have to admit I feel this way sometimes). I can’t make the excuse that she’s stronger than me or bigger than me. It’s woman to woman. My most intense rolls are always against other women, because women don’t hold anything back when they roll with me. And so as a result, rolling with other women is always an intense physical and emotional experience--a test of willpower and strength, as well as a contest of pure technique. My most technical and most physically intense rolls are almost always with other women. And if I get submitted by another blue belt, I have to admit that my ego walks away a little bruised. I think that might be the situation for Leslie, but 10 times worse.

Leslie showed up to class two days later. When Olavo asked her if she wanted to roll with Meg or me, she said no. That was the last we saw of her.

We were disappointed there weren’t any other advanced women to roll with at PTT, but we didn’t let that ruin our week. Professor Olavo was a passionate coach, who taught with enthusiasm and vigor (even though he had an ear infection). He showed a few techniques every class and then would let us practice on our own, walking around the room, talking through the moves step by step, meticulously correcting our mistakes, and helping us perfect our technique.

He embodied compassion in a very real way: even though he knew Meg and I were only going to be there for a week, he taught us as if we were family. His compassion while teaching touched both of us and made a big impact on our positive experience at PTT.

The week was physically exhausting but mentally refreshing. Having the time to train jiutjitsu two to three times a day while being surrounded by friendly, like-minded people with similar goals and interests was a really cool immersion experience.

Besides one negative experience with a substitute no-gi coach, who consistently and blatantly completely ignored Meg and me during class, most of the other guys on the mat were friendly and welcoming. We made a couple friends, got lunch together, and hung out at the pool at our hotel, chatting about training and jiujitsu. After one week of training full-time, we were so exhausted that we agreed one to two weeks of full-time training was enough. Though there were some other people there who had been training full-time at PTT for over a year and planned to stay longer, living the dream.

Potential next stop? Brazil.

Much-deserved beach day after a great week at PTT.

Sarah has been training jiujitsu since 2011 and is currently doing research for her PhD in China while coaching jiujitsu on the side.

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Preparing Your Mind for Competition

By Liz

What challenges do I face as a female competitor? 

I’ll never forget my first competition. I competed for the first time as a white belt after I’d been training for about seven months. At the last minute, I decided to cut weight because there weren’t any other women signed up for my weight division. In order to participate, I had to cut six pounds. The night before I spent over two hours in a sauna and didn’t drink any water. I woke up the next morning completely dehydrated, but didn’t eat or drink anything before the tournament. I got there and weighed in--I was still two pounds over. I spent the next hour trying to sweat it out and eventually was forced to weigh-in in a crowded gym in nothing but my sports bra and underwear. People stared at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was. But I made it.

At that point, I was totally exhausted and dehydrated, but my first match was coming up soon. I drank some water and ate some bread, but it was already too late to revive my energy. My first match was a blur. The girl I was going against was a black belt in judo, and she immediately threw me across the mat and arm locked me. In the next match, I was mounted in a few seconds and submitted by front-collar choke. All I remember is being completely suffocated by the girl then I felt myself blacking out and tapped. I won my third match by submission with a triangle. That was a good moment.

During my first two matches, I was completely taken aback by the strength, aggression, speed, and skill of my opponents. And it wasn’t the first time that would happen at a competition. To this day, I still feel that way every time I compete. This is a testament to the amazingly strong and skillful women who surround me in jiujitsu, a type of strength that is admirable and inspirational for me.

Before my first competition, and before most of the other competitions since then, I’d been training like crazy, but still I was completely unprepared--or at least I felt unprepared. At most (but not all) of the competitions I’ve participated in, I’ve been completely overwhelmed and intimidated by the strength and speed of the women I’ve competed against. I’ve lost a great majority of the matches I’ve participated in--usually by submission or by a significant number of points. There are several reasons for this, I believe, which I outline below. For my BJJ sisters who have never competed before, here is what I’ve learned. For those who have competed, please comment below with your opinions and advice.

• Sheer nervousness: Being nervous before competition is a huge asset. The pumping adrenaline and nervous energy can be channeled as strength against your opponent. However, sometimes I get so nervous my mind goes blank and I forget even the most basic of techniques. So while being nervous is good, doubting yourself and doubting your jiujitsu is bad. Believe in yourself and believe in your jiujitsu. When it comes to competition, it is 100% heart. Leave it all out there on the mat.
• One of the things that can help with the blank-mind problem is to drill, drill, and then drill some more when preparing for competition. When your brain turns off during the match, it’s all muscle memory from there. You have no time to stop and think about what you’re doing. Your moves need to be as natural a reflex as breathing.
• Some people, I believe, incorrectly told me to think about competition matches just like rolling at the gym. This is FALSE. Competition requires a completely different mindset and is a completely different style of sparring. During rolling at the gym, you have the time and space to experiment with techniques and to flow. During competition, it’s more like trying to destroy someone. You have to think that way if you want to win. Having the mindset of really wanting to smash my opponent has been the main thing that has set my wins apart from my losses.
• I used to have a HORRIBLE mindset at comps to the extent that I actually felt bad when I beat someone! Hence why I probably lost so many matches. Or sometimes I even felt good when I lost, thinking to myself, “Well, I bet I made her day.” FUCK THAT SHIT. This is where being raised in our culture as a woman really puts me at a disadvantage during competition because we are often too nice.
• The whole “being nice” thing goes for rolling during training sessions as well. Sometimes I’m afraid that my training partners will think I’m bitchy or too aggressive for rolling hard with them. Again, FUCK THAT SHIT. If you want to succeed in competition, you gotta roll hard and you gotta roll aggressive. Not spazzy. Technical, strong, and aggressive. There is a balance there that takes a while for white belts to understand, but it’s really important you don’t fall too far down the passive track. I was and still am a passive roller. It is a really bad habit and absolutely detrimental when training for competition.
• Sometimes the guys at my gym go too easy on me. They will roll lighter with me than they normally do or even straight up give me submissions. Maybe because I’m not as strong as them and they feel bad. Or sometimes they’ll use their roll with me to focus on technique. On the one hand, I appreciate this because lighter flow rolling gives me the opportunity to practice new techniques and also pads my ego. However, this attitude men have when rolling with me--that they should go easier on me than normal--is absolutely detrimental to my training when preparing for competition. I maintain that this is one of the main reasons I am usually unprepared for competition. Since this realization, I’ve learned to go hard with everyone, and they usually will match my strength. Sometimes I’ll tell them to please go hard on me because I’m preparing for competition, and they usually will.
• My training partners are usually 10-60 lbs heavier than me. This is incredibly damaging to my training and puts me at a huge disadvantage for competitions (see Meg’s earlier post about his topic here). While I train 90% of the time with people that are heavier, in competition I’m going against women who are the same size as me. This not only means they are much faster than what I’m used to, but also they use different techniques and strategies in their rolls. Rather than just using their weight or strength to smash me, they are sneaky, tricky, speedy, and technical in all of their movements. This is not something I’m used to when rolling with big, heavy, strong guys. So when preparing for competition, it is absolutely essential to roll with other women of the same strength, size, and skill level as yourself. These women are usually very hard to find, so if you find one, hold on to her for dear life.
• I have to admit I have never been proud of the medals I have won. At most competitions, including at the large international competitions I’ve been to, less than 5% of the competitors are women. This means that you will probably have no more than six women in your division (but more likely you will have three to four women in it). As long as you win a couple matches, you will walk away with a bronze medal at the very least. I’ve never gotten first place at a competition, but I’ve won a lot of silver and bronze medals because even if I only win one match, I will generally walk away with a bronze medal. But I never feel like I deserve it. One some level, this is a healthy level of modesty. On another level, we should never feel ashamed of expressing or feeling pride for our medals. Just be prepared to feel a sense of disappointment after your tournament, whether or not you win or lose.

Liz started jiujitsu in 2011, got her blue belt in 2013, and has competed in nine competitions. Although she is from California, she is currently training and coaching jiujitsu abroad. She’s learned through training that it’s all about the fight, not the victory.

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Email us at liz.meg223@gmail.com with your questions, and we will post our answers in the next blog post!

From now on, we will be posting on Sunday night EST every other week (every second and fourth Sunday of the month).

Women Warriors: We Need 100 Times More Heart

Most people don’t know what it’s like to be marginalized, but have you ever looked around the room and realized you were the only woman there? Or perhaps the only [insert your identity here] person? If the answer to this question is yes, then you know at least a little bit about how it feels to be in the minority.

A male friend asked me one day, “What’s it like to be a female jiujitsu practitioner?” I responded, “Well, try to imagine what it would be like if it was the other way around. What would it be like for you if jiujitsu was a highly female dominated sport? If all of the moves were designed for a female body type and you were usually the only guy in a class full of ladies?”

Picture this: In your gym of over 50 female members, there are only five other male members at the most. All of the coaches at your gym are women. You can expect on most days you will be the only male in an average class size of 15 women. There will be one or two other men there if you’re lucky, who may or may not be of a similar size and strength to yourself. Every single person you roll with that day is 10-60 pounds lighter than you. People around you are constantly making jokes about periods and boobs.

The coach addresses the class as “ladies” and yells out encouragements such as, “Let’s go, girls!” She may or may not awkwardly look at you and add, “And gents!” at the end once or twice. All techniques shown during class are designed by and for women. When people go to pick partners, you find yourself without one and have to ask the coach to pair you up with someone. You end up getting paired up with two women half your size.

During drilling, you constantly adjust your gi and rashguard, which don’t fit you quite right because they’re designed for a woman. Your partner’s hand slips to your butt and lingers for an awkward second. She apologizes and moves on, but you wonder if she had intentionally just copped a feel. The coach references vaginas several times during class and threatens the other women fiercely, “Remember don’t be a dick on the mat! Nobody wants to be a dick.”

When you tell other people you practice jiujitsu, their eyes get big and say, “Isn’t that a women’s sport? I don’t know any men who do that! Are you gay?” When you start to get friendly with one of your teammates, everyone assumes you’re dating and accuses you of being a flirt. When you tap someone out, they say it’s only because you’re stronger. When you attend a competition, you are the only one signed up in your division, and they won’t let you compete in the female division. When you get the chance to compete, there are only three other men in your division, so even if you go home with a gold medal, you feel like you don’t deserve it. When you get promoted, you can’t help but wonder if it’s only because you’re a man.

This is what it’s like to be a female doing jiujitsu. Just replace the above body parts with the appropriate anatomy and you get the idea.

This is why we created this blog. We are absolutely in LOVE with jiujitsu. Our teammates are also our best friends, and we couldn’t live without our training times or our training partners, both male and female. In fact, most of the men in jiujitsu are awesome, and the mats aren’t complete without them. And to be honest, being in the minority is part of what makes it so thrilling.

However, being a member of such a marginalized population in a highly male-dominated sport like jiujitsu means that there are a lot of challenges that are often not talked about. A lot of women don’t have any other women at their gym to talk to. Some women don’t want to admit to the other women at the gym their feelings. Some people just like to read blogs, and it helps to realize: YOU ARE NOT ALONE!

We want to share our love of jiujitsu with the world and also express our happiness and frustration. We hope to bond with the female jiujitsu community over the unique challenges we face. From having boobs and periods to questioning our abilities and belt levels, women confront a myriad of physical and emotional barriers in jiujitsu.

Let’s face it: As women, we need 100 times more heart than men in order to succeed in this sport. In this way, we hope to offer mutual help and support to our BJJ sisters around the world. Part of this will involve an “advice column” portion that will answer your questions. Some of the topics we plan to cover in the coming weeks include:

• Looking out for safety: it’s okay to say no!
• Love and sex with people at the gym
• Competing with men
• Periods, farts, and tears - oh my!
• Rolling aggressively- am I a bitch?

You can look for our posts every second and fourth Sunday night EST time.

Your authors are both blue belts and coaches in male-dominated gyms. We are both American and have trained in the United States and abroad. We have both competed several times in national and international tournaments. We are long distance besties but usually get to spend about three weeks a year training together, and those three weeks are the BEST.

We want your questions and feedback! Email us and comment below!

Our email is liz.meg223@gmail.com.

Love,

Liz and Meg