I was 3 when I was given my first ballet shoes, and that is where my passion for dancing started, but at the age of 5, I received my first ever dobuk, it was white, it was pristine, and it was the moment I realized that I will never be a princess. Yes, dancing was always my first and will always be my last love, but the moment I hugged my first white uniform in taekwondo, I knew right there and then I was born to be a warrior. I was destined to be build for war.
It started as a past time, I had my first ever exhibition with “Eye of the Tiger” playing in the background, and during that time, I felt like I was Julie Pierce in the next Karate kid. I was an energizer bunny back then, I would put on my dobuk even at home and would start kicking and screaming “Hiyah!” in the most annoying way you could possibly imagine. I would be in ballet class in my tights and leotards, but I would be last in line, not listening to my ballet teacher, because I was too busy teaching my fellow dancers how to kick,and how to be the next karate kid, so to speak.
What started out as a hobby became a life goal. I had dreamed to be a professional dancer during that time, but then at the same time I wanted to be warrior, who dances. My taekwondo(TKD) exhibition became weekends of going to a covered gym with my cousins, and trying my best to blend with them. I was not able to enroll that time because my mom feared that I would hurt myself. Dance and Martial Arts became my life. People would ask me why, and I would just smile and say,”because..”
My dad studied Judo and Kung Fu, and excelled. He was my idol, and despite being born to exist in skirts and heels, I wanted to be like him. He would spend Sundays or free times teaching me hand combat techniques, as well as, how to defend spar. Most of my first ever techniques I got from him, and from my cousins. It was grueling since I also wanted to let my mom know the skills I acquired. It became a father-daughter bonding time, and it became our little secret.
I was a regular at the covered gym, and I will always make time for TKD amidst my busy schedule as a dancer,swimmer and athlete. TKD , like dance, was always a priority. I had 4 years of secret training, when I told my mom that I wanted to join the fight club in school. I was 9 years old. My mom agreed, and I was at my happiest. Our master was the one who taught me for the 4 years that I secretly go to the gym for training. I wanted to train, I wanted to win, but most of all I wanted to excel. I have always been competitive, and I always aimed to be on top.
I never got tired of the bruises. Dance gave me flexibility and strength, it also gave me the endurance that I needed in order to fight. I was dancer, I was fighter. At that time, I was complete. My training went on and on and on, and never, even once, did I backed down from a fight, until the day my dad sat me down and said,”Respect begets respect. A great fighter is not measured on brute strength alone, but on how well he can handle a situation with wit. You will always be judged not on how you fight, but on how you walk away from something that can destroy you. Never be a person who speaks with the loudest volume, but be a person, who speak volumes with your actions”. It got me thinking, and that was the moment I started to train, not to win, but to prove that I can be a better person each day.
It took me years to hone my skills, but then I had to stop. Life took over, and it banged my knee up pretty bad. I had to let go of that one thing that made me a true daddy’s girl. I had to “man” up, and face the fact, that maybe I wasn’t meant to be the best taekwondo jin there is. I hanged up my dreams, and my dobuk, and continued with my life.
I became a professional dancer, I became an instructor, I became a doctor, but the dreams of becoming a fighter still lived in me. I lost my dad, but I never lost my dream. I ventured into a new place, I became the new kid on the block, but then as I tried to adjust, I realized that maybe, just maybe this was the opportunity that my dad was telling me. I took it upon my self to find a club, and tried getting back on the mats.
I did, and I realized I was home. 4 months have passed, I practiced what I learned then and took it up a notch higher. The training is intense, and there are times that my knee would scream in agony, reminding me why I had stopped in the first place, but it was familiar, and it was a good kind of pain.
The first time I stepped on the mats, I knew i was home again, and when the first handshake was exchanged, I knew I found, not only friends, I found family.
The gym became my sanctuary. It became my refuge, and it became my rehab. The faces i see everyday became my comfort, they became my family.
I’m a long way from what I was then, but I will get there. I am here for the long run. I will always be that little girl sleeping in her white dobuk, and I will always be here fighting.
Martial Arts is not only a sport, It will always be a belief, a way of life.