I have carefully reviewed your site. So ... Well, first reaction is delight. Secondly, it makes me wonder where your enthusiasm came from, once you seem to be far from the world of martial arts. (Please, do not get me wrong.) Also, something is missing here as regards the "first-hand". And I am a little surprised by your fighting ladies, who gave you interviews - there is a taste of some academism and formality in their answers, as if they are engaged in cooking rather than in contact sports. After all, there is no other activity in the world comparable with physical confrontation, especially for women. So, I'd like to challenge this lack of knowledge as far as the woman’s combative psychology, fighter’s sensations, feelings of fight are concerned, as my occupation has a direct bearing the subject. I am a sports journalist working in a provincial newspaper. And I am also a hand-to-hand fighter - I have many years of practicing Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, boxing, karate, and grappling. Currently, I am practicing MMA (‘no-holds barred’ fighting) – it is an extremely popular sport in Brazil, particularly, among women. In fact, you can’t cover sports well without ‘internal inspection’.
I want to share with you my thoughts about the hand-to-hand combat and its perception by a woman being in the thick of the battle. I also want to tell you anecdotal evidence – just let me take a fortifying breath.
... So, I am watching a fight as an outside observer, maybe it is even my own fight ... I see flying hair, tangled bodies, dealing blows, short exclamations of fighters and fans. Bangs of punches and kicks and bumps of bodies slammed onto the floor. Gritting teeth and twisted joints. Faces of the combatants screwed up with pain, passion, anger, rage and inspiration. There are two strong tough women in the octagon. They fight with gusto, with a thirst for battle, straining every nerve, utilizing all their remarkable strength – just to destroy the rival’s will to resist, to destroy physically the one who you have to fight by a twist of fate. The two are gracefully dancing their life-and-death dance. They cut through the air with their tight smooth arms and legs. They hug each other to death like passionate lovers and then furiously punch and kick each other like street brawlers. Probably, for someone it may really seem like a street fight, but this is absolutely not true! This is a noble duel, beautiful in a way, between two skilled and experienced fighters. In my imagination, two muscular flexible female bodies are working like combat machines, designed to crush everything crossing their path. The fighters breathe heavily, drop with fatigue, but continue to attack recklessly and resist desperately. They roll over the floor, having a desire to be on top. They want the outright unconditional victory; each aspires to bring the opponent to complete helplessness or force her to admit defeat. Each seeks to destroy, overturn, and smash the opponent; in the end, to humiliate her. Each wants to celebrate her victory, and dreams about only one thing – to jump for joy, looking down the opponent’s nose and enjoy her helplessness...
This is the essence of women's fight! I "weak woman” has managed to overcome her by my strength, agility and passion! And she is not weak, not helpless at all; she seems to be bigger than me. She overwhelmed me with her strikes, she tried to inflict maximum damage to me - knocking me down, breaking my arms and legs, choking me, making me impossible to breathe. She is strong, solid and cunning. She was attractive and sexy in a way. But I have taken the frills out of her, and now she is not a rival to me anymore. Now men keep eyes glued on me; they admire me, they even want me. And they just sympathize with this horse godmother. Actually, I am also pitiful to her but it was she who chose to confront me in the octagon. And I have overborne her in a fair women’s fight. And If I didn’t manage to get out from under her heavy carcass, I would be now in her shoes. And then this bitch would have been jumping for joy, and shook to her boobs in front of men. And I would have suffered from nausea on the stinking floor. But that did not happen, I was more agile, quicker, stronger, smarter, and... more beautiful. I won the right to be an object of admiration in a hard battle against a powerful and merciless opponent. I have achieved this by myself making myself very happy! Hooray! See you later in the octagon!
In fact, I no longer have any ill feelings toward my former rival. And I am sure she has come to life and doesn’t harbor bad feelings toward me either. It is even not impossible that we will go together to have a drink at the bar. This is also the women’s way!
Of course, I do not always win; I am not a stranger to the bitterness of defeat. But I am a fighter, I am capable not just strike and carry out tricks, I am capable to take a hit, set my teeth and bite the bullet. I love a physical encounter! I love fighting! Against men too. I once had a chance to fight in the octagon against a male MMA fighter for real. And I managed to overcome him, believe it or not. So, all in order...
...Two men are in the octagon; they are fighting fiercely and not in front of a crowd of spectators - I am alone in the gym having finished my training with the punching bag. I can guess why a routine sparring has transformed into a brutal brawl. Another woman would be happy if two strong men determine to fight for her. But I'm not one of those. I do not like such things. I especially hate the potential winner’s attitude - he sits on top of the opponent and brutally and mercilessly beats him in the ‘ground-and-pound’ style... Then I enter in the octagon, grab the upper one’s neck from behind and hustled him away from the victim whom I order to get out of the way. I am going to battle with a man - it's very fascinating and no big deal! I'll fight him for real, fight tooth and nail, with the risk of being soundly beaten. Now my whole body is functioning like a single well-oiled machine designed to break down powerful fighting machinery and put it out of action at whatever cost. I calibrate every move, as if slow down time. I appraise the situation in every single moment of the battle; I control every move of the enemy. In fact, he is confused and unable to focus on the fight because his outright victory has been suddenly stolen while his opponent has been dramatically replaced. To make it clear that my intentions are very serious, I kick him in the jaw but it doesn't seem to hurt him. I still feel he does not get it yet and acts quite reluctantly, like saying, ‘get off my back, babe!’ He scowls and unwillingly put out his right arm trying to probe into the defenses. He is now struggling within himself: what to do with a woman probably determined to fight with him in full force. But the game is up - I am also a fighter and a strong and fit fighter, I do not ask for his indulgence or odds! I duck under his arm and smash his nose by open hand sideways having him bleeding from the nostrils. Great start! I know that in grappling he would crumple me up, so I keep him at distance trying to knock him out before he manages to catch me. Now he flies into a rage completely forgetting about the fighting techniques. He approaches me with wide-open arms intending ‘to catch a birdie.’ But I'm deft and agile - a pair of deceptive movements and then - a decent punch in the nose that caught him off guard. My right hand terribly stings; his muzzle being covered with blood looks really awful. Finally, he manages to grab my right arm but too slow – I contrive to knee him in the balls twice getting him to double up with pain. I do not hesitate to finish the job kneeing him to his bleeding conk. He slowly collapses but I speed it up making him a little more comfortable to get to sleep.
Hooray! I have beaten a man! Ma-an! It is not a babe but a hefty bull who just thrashed another bull…
There are discussing on this site, whether a woman can cope with a guy. As a matter of fact, a man can never fight with a woman in full force. And of course not because of his generosity or big heart; the reason is his natural arrogance: as they say, "a girl is always a girl." But in the ring I am not a woman, I am a strong ruthless fighter; during a fight I don’t miss any opportunity to punish an opponent hard and no quarter to be given to anyone. However, before and after the fight I am a woman. But I am not one who is waiting for an attention throwing eyes to the ground; I myself go and get the spoils of war and slices of the cake. But only if I want it! I can be gentle and affectionate. I am not this callous muscular butch or superwoman; I am quite feminine and attractive. Yes, I am a fighting woman but in some intimate moments I love being subdued. But again, only my own free wil! Men love me, and I am not above men, but of course, I love strong and muscular ones... By the way, I'm not violent and I would never pick up fight with a woman outside of the ring or octagon and with a man as well unless he himself attacks me. But so far the God saved (attackers)... Due to systematic training and self-discipline, I elaborated the fighting spirit, that’s how I stand out from most other women. But I strongly recommend every girl and young woman to practice martial arts and train herself to become a fighter! Only then you will realize what life worth living is about! Maybe someday, if I became a mother and wife, I will effeminate, get a fat ass and cease to be a fighter... But meanwhile, I enjoy the fight!
Sorry for the long letter - I have been typing it in one breath.
Fighting is the most absorbing activity ever invented in the world!
Hail to women’s fight!
Thank you for your site!
Exclusive of the Female Single Combat Club