One of the first posts I wrote for Fit is a Feminist Issue was about my desire to allow myself to be *seen* at Taekwondo this year. In that post, I mentioned that I wanted to be more willing to lead the warm-up, to be the person who demonstrates, to put myself ‘out there.’ In short, I want to take more personal ‘risks’ in class, to deal with the possibility of doing it wrong or making a fool of myself, all in the service of learning. And I very, very much want to learn.

Now, I’m not usually a ‘go big or go home’ person. I like to take things in small steps, so I have been working on this ‘being seen’ project in small ways over the last couple of months.

Since it is a bit tricky for me to turn knowledge of a movement into the movement itself, I often shy away from the opportunity to do a new movement from a pattern in front of my instructor. That’s not so much about not wanting to make a fool of myself, it’s more about not wanting the instructor to think that I am not trying hard enough or that they didn’t get through to me. However, recently, when shown new moves, I have gritted my teeth and done them anyway, no matter who could see me. It’s been painful, and I have not enjoyed it, but, it is working. I can get feedback right away and I can do a better job with my patterns sooner.

Being willing to be seen while practicing kicks and punches is also serving me well so far. A couple of weeks ago, we were practicing the punches and kicks I will be using for my third degree test (which will be some time in the next year) and I made some choices that were stressful but useful for me.

One of the kicks is a particular challenge for me – spinning hook kick. I can do a hook kick and I can do a spin, but bringing them together has been, well, interesting. (Let’s just say that the only thing that could make it harder is if I had to perform it to music.) In this particular class, I deliberately chose to join the group of black belt women that included my instructor – so I knew I would have to demonstrate the kick in front of her. And, I knew I would get detailed corrections. It was hard but I went through with it and made some great progress. Now, I know how to practice that kick effectively at home.

That same night, with that same group, I learned and practiced a new set of punches.* I had never done those specific moves before but because of my commitment to being seen, I decided to go all in. It will come as a surprise to no one (except a part of my subconscious) that you can do a move terribly, in front of someone who is working hard to instruct you, and you won’t faint or throw up.

In fact, the only result was learning how to actually do it. I started out feeling ridiculous, but by the time that part of practice was over, those punches were starting to seem like something I could get good at. This is HUGE.

Being seen in class is one level of stress, but, last weekend, I committed to a whole other level of stress – I attended a sparring seminar with a visiting instructor. So, not only would my brain be freaking out about trying to learn new things, it would also be freaking out about embarrassing my instructors in front of a visiting Grand Master, and about potentially doing something ridiculously poorly in front of him. These are not reasonable fears but they took up a lot of space in my brain all the same.

Despite all of these fears, I have committed to being seen so I decided that no matter what happened, no matter what I was asked to demonstrate, I was going to attempt it.

I’m proud to say that I did what I set out to do.

I’ll admit that I quietly grumbled my way through one set of exercises I couldn’t make sense of. Luckily, my practice partner is used to me and didn’t hurt himself rolling his eyes at my foolishness. (Thanks, Kevin!) Maybe not my finest moment but I am not being too hard on myself about it because I kept trying.

And, when I had to do one running exercise, I did have a face of thunder, but that was because I was irritated at myself for not being able to grasp what I needed to do. But, I kept doing it, even though I was frustrated. After all, I’m a big girl, a bit of frustration is not going to stop me.

Getting frustrated at myself didn’t negate my effort to be willing to be seen, and I’m pleased that I stuck with it. Even when another exercise left me with a hip spasm, I just stretched it out and then jumped back into the seminar.

My big test of being seen came about about halfway through when Grand Master Laquerre asked me to hold the kick pad for him to demonstrate a move. That may seem easier than being the person demonstrating but it was still very challenging for me – I had to do something exactly right so he could teach effectively.** If he had to spend a lot of time correcting how I was standing and where I was holding the pad, the seminar would be stalled. I didn’t shy away though, I just said ‘Yes, sir!’ and did my best to be in the right spot at the right time.

I didn’t do it perfectly and I can’t remember if I bowed at the proper time (which makes me cringe a little), but I was basically where I needed to be when I needed to be there. So, I was seen, I was imperfect, and I was fine.

Everything seemed a lot easier after that, the hardest thing had already happened and I had survived. The fact that Grand Master Laquerre went on to say that, in sparring, there isn’t a ‘right’ move to make for a specific target, there is just the move that scores a point, helped to reinforce that I could just let go of my notion of needing to do things perfectly.

The kicks I did in the next part of the seminar were some of the quickest and best I have ever done.

So far, this ‘being seen’ thing is working out marvellously and my Taekwondo is improving as a result. Stay tuned for further updates as events warrant.

KIYA!

*At the test, I will have two boards to break. They will be held one above the other and I will have jump up and punch the top one, then, as I am coming down, I will have to punch and break the second. I’ve been worried about this.
**To be clear, I wasn’t the least bit concerned about him kicking me. A Master or a Grand Master has very good control of their kicks and I was not going to get hurt either way.

Like Sam, I’m doing this “217 workouts in 2017” thing, and I’m actually on workout #197.  That’s a lot of jogging and riding and bending and lifting semi-heavy things since January.  And yet, I’m sluggish, slower and gaining weight (thanks, peri-menopause!).  As I’ve written about a couple of times, my body is heavy and tired and tight and hurt-y, which makes nothing feel so great.  So I’m working out, but with definite reluctance and a lot of dragging-my-ass-ness.

I had a massage on Monday with a new RMT, and it was the not-fun kind.  But he was good and he pinpointed a few things about how all the stringy bits in my body are connected and firing off each other, and he Strongly Suggested that I explore something more … wiggly… than running and cycling.  I’ve been to a few yoga classes in the last few weeks (including goat yoga, which honestly, was more goats than yoga), but I had been curious about a class at the studio across the street from me called “movement lab.”

The class description says it’s designed to explore fundamental human movements like squatting, lunging, pushing, pulling, hanging, locomotive patterns, hand-balancing and creative play. Be prepared to challenge your mobility, balance, strength, coordination, skill and adaptability using a wide array of techniques, tools and situations. This is great practice to fill in some of the gaps of your asana (yoga) practice and/or sport specific training.

The schedule also promised that the class would let me “Cultivate an intelligent and creative approach to how you MOVE and express your human complexity!”

How could I resist that?

In a rare burst of alignment, my schedule lined up last night so I could go to the class.  I had no idea what to expect.  I studied the photos on the website to try to figure out if I needed to bring a yoga mat, and whether it was a barefoot or shoe-needing class.  The two images on the website showed guys doing squatty things in their barefeet so I figured I was good.

When I got into the studio, I dragged out a yoga mat (before confirming out I didn’t need one), and did some stretchy calf things.  A dancer-y young man came and shook hands with everyone as we waited and introduced himself and asked our names.  (Spoiler alert: he also gave me a big hug at the end.  Very warm and wiggly).

We started with “radializing” (rotating bits of our bodies), then did some sort of bendy things and some balancing and rotating things, then played with big sticks with a partner for a while, first jumping to catch the sticks our partners dropped, then “attacking” them in slow motion to make them dodge and bend.  Surprisingly hard.

Then we spent about 15 minutes starfishing ourselves across the floor, a sort of flat-on-back starfish, then one side balling up then rolling then unfurling.  It hurt my tender menopausal boobs to do it the harder way, which I had to tell the nice young man when he was trying to help me adjust.  I also had to tell him about the arthritis in my big toe, which made him say “my mom has that” very kindly.

The final half hour of the 75 minute class was the hardest, a series of animal moves.  (I’m sure there is a modality that this is all based on, but I cannot locate it).  Deep ape — what you might know as a deep squat; beast — on all fours with knees an inch off the ground balanced on your toes; loaded beast — same, but butts back; crab — hands behind you, butt off the ground — and a bunch of variations therein, lifting different bits at a time.  For about 10 minutes, we beast-walked around the studio in various configurations.  It was HARD.

We finished with 5 minutes of random shaking.  I reflected that I should have worn a running bra for my tender boobs, not a yoga/cycling bra.  Then some breaths of joy and the aforementioned big hug.

I truly sucked at all the beast things, and it was all surprisingly challenging but compellig, in the way that that one pose you can never do at yoga is challenging.  But it was fun and interesting and the teacher was sweet and I liked it.  And I woke up this morning more… jaunty.  A few bits were a bit sore, but my hips feel a lot more open.  More beast walking for me.

It’s Thanksgiving for all of our American friends (business as usual today in the Great White North). And you know what that means? Feasts! Treats! Social times where food is the centre piece. Lots and lots of it.

And also: the fear-mongering about gaining weight. The first such article came my way last week in the form of “It takes six months to lose all your holiday weight. Here’s how to avoid gaining it instead.”

How, you ask? Mindful eating, that’s how.  But that’s not the point. I have nothing against mindful eating. I like it. I do it. I prefer it even. And I practice it most of the time, including the holidays.

What I do have something against is framing its sole purpose around avoiding holiday weight gain that will take us six months to lose if we don’t watch ourselves.  Food policing and constant body surveillance to make sure we don’t “overindulge” — you wouldn’t want to enjoy too much would you now ? — those things I mind.

It wasn’t too long ago (well okay, it was just over 25 years ago) when I battled with abject fear whenever faced with an event with a “food table.” So it’s not as if I don’t know that out of control feeling. But it doesn’t abate by being told to eat mindfully.

I honestly can’t stand the thought of being surrounded by a bunch of people saying “I know I shouldn’t but” (and all manner of riffs on that same theme) for the next five or six weeks. It’s the diet mentality that messes everyone up in the first place. And the diet mentality starts with demonizing treats as guilty pleasures that we succumb to and assuming that weight gain is the most terrible thing in the world. A more healthy attitude about food, treats, and the holidays wouldn’t foster obsession and the “I know I shouldn’t” scenarios.

Instead, we would make choices, enjoy them, and move on. It infuriates me further that at the same time that we are about to be inundated with these narratives of weight, meant to instill terror we are also surrounded by magazines promoting delicious holiday foods that we’re encouraged to buy, cook, enjoy, indulge in.

Mixed messages of “eat” and “don’t eat.” No wonder so many people struggle.  Indeed, three years ago I posted something entitled exactly that: “Eat! Don’t Eat! Holiday Magazine Mixed Messages.”

My suggestion then was “pay attention,” which is not too far off of the idea of mindful eating. But that’s something I aim for year round anyway, and it’s working for me. But I still feel irritated when I see these mixed messages. And mostly they just make me want to say “fuck off and leave me alone!” I’m weary of it and it’s hardly even begun.

How do you feel about the holiday messaging around food/weight?

We hear a lot about self-care. Sam sent me a link yesterday to “This Is What ‘Self-Care’ Really Means Because It’s not All Salt Baths and Chocolate Cake.” And Fieldpoppy wrote a beautiful post not too long ago, “Listen to your body…when it whispers,” that opened with “why does it all feel so HARD right now?” In the frazzled and frenetic pace of life, simple things like sleep, eating right, and getting the workouts in can fall to the side.

I blogged about this very thing less than a year ago in “On over-commitment, re-commitment, and self-care.” There I said:

I’m a person who strives for balance but finds it elusive.  When I am so over-committed with projects and tasks, things that will fade from memory as they get completed and then replaced by the next set of projects and tasks that will also one day get completed and fade from memory nudge out self care.  Like, besides not sleeping, not swimming, and working too much, I’ve also had cereal for dinner more times in the past four months than I have since…ever.

The idea that self care is treating yourself as kindly as you would treat others has resonance for me. I would never tell a friend: You cannot go swimming! You must work more! And here, have a bowl of cereal for dinner while you’re at it. And by the way, you’re not allowed to go to bed until you can’t keep your eyes open any longer.

In “This is What ‘Self-Care’ Really Means,” Brianne West says:

If you find yourself having to regularly indulge in consumer self-care, it’s because you are disconnected from actual self-care, which has very little to do with “treating yourself” and a whole lot do with parenting yourself and making choices for your long-term wellness.

It is no longer using your hectic and unreasonable life as justification for self-sabotage in the form of liquor and procrastination. It is learning how to stop trying to “fix yourself” and start trying to take care of yourself…

And in “Listen to your body…when it whispers,” Fieldpoppy says:

Right now, I’m giving myself permission to do things that aren’t running and pushing myself hard, finding different ways to move, being open to things that feel like mystery.

This is all consistent with my perennial “do less” theme. If there is one thing that constitutes self-care in my view, that sort of encapsulates where I consistently go wrong, it’s in over-committing. Okay. We get that. Lots of us can relate.

And yet, I almost always cringe when I hear the words “self-care.” It’s not because I don’t think it matters. The other day in my “Feminism across Borders” class we were talking about migrant domestic workers. One of the themes in my course is the way global systems, especially the economic system, mean that people’s circumstances all over the work stand in relation. In Canada we have special government programs to enable migrant domestic workers to enter the country (more or less as indentured workers) because “we” recognize that their labour is needed. If Canadian women are to pursue careers then they need someone to pick up that slack. So often then, in the case of the migrant workers from different parts of the world, it’s on their backs. They leave their children behind to look after ours.  So we can lead harried and over-committed lives.

Now I’m not saying that every Canadian career woman has a migrant domestic worker doing her care labour and housework. My main point is that “self-care” is a pretty luxurious concept. I’ve written about that before too. See “Self-Care: A luxury and a privilege that lots of people still don’t get enough of.” I agree with Brianne West’s point that it’s not all about salt baths and chocolate cake.

Nashwa Khan writes about “Self-Care and Justice for All?” where she also points out that the consumer model of self-care binds us to others across the globe and at home, others for whom the very notion of “self-care” is not a live option:

I do not have time for self-care because financial survival trumps self-care. My self-care is making a reciprocal effort to give back to my community or making sure everyone is fed in a space. It would feel selfish for me to indulge in a capitalist shopping trip and label it as self-care versus what it actually is, myself as a person in the West buying clothing that is likely unethically made. These fleeting feel-good moments, masked as necessary care reiterate the dominant systems that are already at play. Instead of acknowledging our roles in these oppressive systems, we lie to ourselves by naming practices like shopping for clothes made by exploited people as “self-care.” In this consumerist act we buy into more than capitalism: when we label it self-care we render it ethical, we believe that it is  buying into a greater good. Therefore, we buy redemption beyond engaging in capitalism, we buy into the belief that we are healing ourselves and are still engaged in social movements.

The upshot? I continue to struggle with self-care on two levels. Level one: I often don’t do enough of it. I feel this regularly but less than I used to because, as Fieldpoppy urged, I’m more likely to listen to the whisper.

Level two: I recognize it as a concept that invokes privilege and the luxury of choice. I can choose to be frazzled. Or I can choose to slow down. Does the indentured domestic worker who is not free to leave her sponsored employment have the same choices as I do? Does the garment maker who works in the factory where I might buy the clothes that serve as “consumer therapy” because “I deserve it” (says who?) have the choice to opt for self-care if she likes?

This is not: “oh it’s so hard to be privileged.” I’m not endorsing or even venturing into the territory of the fragility of the privileged here. Many people experience different combinations of privilege and disadvantage. It’s complex. And we are all interconnected. Having it tough in one area doesn’t give a free pass over complicity in other areas. But it also doesn’t negate that there are real issues and difficulties.

And that’s why I like the central message of Brianne West’s piece. For those who have the option to make choices, make better choices.  The kind that, as she says, are “for your longterm wellness.” This doesn’t mean that those of us who have the luxury of being able to make such choices aren’t fortunate indeed. But it does mean that we can use our privilege of choice in ways that minimize our complicity in global systems of exploitation and structural injustice. I don’t have to indulge in self-care on the backs of exploited others.