Don't Judge a Book by it's Cover

There are certain things in life that are not usually associated with people such as myself, transgendered. There are many reasons for this such as stereotypes and ignorance, just to name a couple. For example, one wouldn't normally associate the transgendered with any type of contact sport, after all we're just a bunch of sissy's, right? But this isn't always the case as you will see, believe it or not this is a true story. As a matter of fact, all of my stories are true unless I specifically say otherwise. Of course the poems sprinkled in here and there may or may not have anything to do with reality.

Some examples of this include the following sports that include women players or participants, MMA, boxing and basketball. Lets face it, the way basketball is played today, it is a contact sport. So the myth of women and contact sports is just that, a myth. Some of these female athletes can be very attractive and yes, feminine. Now that this myth has been dispelled I can continue with my story. At the end, if you are not convinced, I can prove it with pictures or my camera.

When I was growing up, my best friend and I did almost everything together, including little league and school sports. We played football, basketball, baseball, track and soccer. He was taller with a longer reach and I was faster & stronger. My advantages were not huge and we were fairly evenly matched as athletes. Although we were the best of friends we were very competitive when it came to sports. As you will see, this carried over into our adult lives.

As many friends do, we drifted apart in our thirties and hadn't seen each other in ten years when we accidentally ran into each other. While catching each other up on our lives, and yes he knows that I'm a t-girl, he mentioned that he had earned a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. I was surprised because that is quite an accomplishment which takes years of dedication in order to achieve that level. Plus, ninety five percent of people who start karate will never earn a black belt.

I saw his belt and certs, but it's the video really shocked me. He performed all the necessary kicks, blocks, kata's and the various moves that was required and looked good. The part that stuck in my mind was the end of the test when he sparred the schools owner and fifth degree black belt himself. My friend literally got the hell beat out of him and it seemed more like a right of passage than a fair fight. He fought back gamely but his sensei was much faster and precise and my friend ended up going down hard from a punch to his jaw.

He wasn't out cold but let's just say he was a technical knock out. He was quite proud of his achievement and rightly so as I saw. It didn't take long when that competitive spirit popped up again as I thought, if he can do it, so can I. I knew that this would be a huge drain on my life if I intended to see it through until the end. Not only physically but mentally also. However, I am a very determined person and thought I was ready to do whatever it takes.

I wanted to find a different style as his was mostly kicks of all types as you may have seen in the Olympics, that is Tae Kwon Do. Being in my forties I was looking for a style that would keep me more grounded to try to minimize my chances of sustaining a severe knee injury that are very common in karate. I found what I was looking for in the American Kenpo style. There were kicks but not nearly as many as in Tae Kwon Do. This imbalance was addressed with things called techniques.

Techniques essentially are various ways to get out of holds, grabs, chokes, etc. They also teach you how to block various punches, kicks, etc. However it doesn't end there, you turn the defensive move, block, etc., into an offensive move to disable the attacker to various degrees, including death. For example, I learned at least five different ways to get out of a standard choke hold with someone's hands. Many of these moves ended up with twisting of the arms and wrists to break or dislocate. There were over 150 of these techniques.

This style had seven levels or belts, which included white, yellow, orange, blue, green, brown and black. In addition, the brown had three levels so in effect there were 9 belts. In order to proceed to the next level, you had to pass a test demonstrating everything you had learned at that level plus all that came before. So im effect, each subsequent test became longer in order to incorporate all that you had learned.

I flew through the first four belts with no problem and was feeling very confident that I actually may be able to do this. However, by the time I reached green things were changing. There was a lot more to remember and the classes were getting very physical. I was starting to come home from class sore or aching somewhere or another. This was also starting to take more of my time, therefore infringing on my daily routine.

But I was determined to carry on especially when a coveted brown belt seemed to be within my reach. The brown belt test of course was the longest and most difficult so far. Usually some family members would come to watch but when I caught one of them crying from seeing what I was going through I never allowed them to watch the tests again.

Now that I had my brown belt I knew I could do this since I was almost there. Bad assumption on my part, it took me three years to go through white, yellow, orange, blue and green. However, it took an additional three years to just go through the three levels of brown. It was at this time, although inspired by my success thoughts of quitting began to creep into my mind.

There was so much to remember, plus I was always sore somewhere. at this point I had to go to class at least three times a week plus as a requirement all brown belts had to teach a class every week. I drew the Saturday morning teenager class. I probably was at my all time best both physically and mentally during this period of time.

The schools owner or Sensei commented once that he never knew anyone that went all the way to black belt without suffering at least one injury, and I was no exception. During my three years as a brown belt, beside the soreness and bruises, I suffered a broken finger, nose and thumb. I still had the plastic cast on my thumb when I started to test for black. It seemed like the longest three years of my life.

By the time I earned the third stripe on my brown belt I had learned and was expected to demonstrate almost six years worth of kicks, punches, elbows, knees, grabs, throws, blocks, one hundred and fifty techniques and a dozen katas. For those who don't know what a kata is I can best describe it as a choreographed series of blocks, kicks, punches, techniques, etc. Anyone that watches tv or movies has seen this.

Everything was coming together and I was peaking at the right time when I broke my thumb when I punched someone in the head during a sparring session. Let me take a minute to talk about the sparring. As you advanced it became much more physical and rougher, people getting knocked down was not uncommon. I always at least held my own even though I was the oldest person in the school.

The black belt "test" lasted over a period of a month and was an absolute grueling experience to say the least. Six years of knowledge had to be demonstrated to a critical group of black bets. The sparring sessions had become quite difficult with the black belts forcing you to defend yourself at the risk of getting hurt or embarrassed. In addition to this, remember I just got the cast off of my thumb.

I could have deferred to the next testing cycle because of my thumb but I wanted to see it through now. I had started with three other guys that were my age or older but I was the only one still left. The final, all day test lasted eight hours on a Saturday. I knew what to expect and was as ready as I ever would be minus my concerns with my thumb. Although there was a lunch break, other pauses were only a matter of minutes.

Everything and then some that I had absorbed over the six years had to be demonstrated against live and hostile targets, the black belts. I was sweating like a pig and was getting exhausted to the point where I started to become concerned. I felt like I was alone on an island and my survival depended on no one but myself. I was determined to go for it and I was going to not only get that belt, but earn it.

Finally there was only two things left to do and one of them was the ultimate test. I had to "spar" against the lead black belt and the schools owner, a fifth degree black belt. Here's the setting, I'm facing the room length mirror that also ran floor to ceiling. In between the mirror and myself and facing me a few feet away is the lead black belt. Somewhere in back of me is my Sensei waiting in the wings to pounce.

Thoughts of my friend getting his clock cleaned flashed through my mind and I was determined not to let that happen to me. I was hot, sweaty and exhausted but mentally strong. I was as ready as I would ever be and would not be denied. My Sensei's teacher was there and was an eight degree black belt. I had met him before and he shouted out, let's go and see what you got.

The guy in front of me stuck his jaw out and leaned forward and said, well what are you waiting for. Immediately I unloaded a four punch combination to his face before he could even react. Although he was twenty years younger than I and stronger I had a distinct advantage in hand and foot speed. He fell back as I moved in for the kill. it felt like Marvin Hagler running after Tommy Hearns to finish him off in the third.

I was winding up my test in grand fashion and just as I was about to engage him again I was suddenly grabbed from behind in a bear hug by my Sensei. I was so pre-occupied by what was in front of me that I forgot about the second opponent, failing to glance in the mirror, damn!  I tried everything he had taught me but was unable to break the hold. I had to do something and do it now.

Where I had a speed advantage over my first opponent, I enjoyed a strength advantage over my Sensei as a result of over twenty years of working out and fifteen pounds of weight. I started to push him backwards and built enough momentum so we both fell over backwards.  Because he was behind me we fell with my full weight on him.

Our momentum carried us into a backward roll and I ended up on top straddling him. I quickly delivered the mock death blow to his throat as the whistle blew and I knew it was over. The adrenalin was pumping and I felt great and just knew I had earned my belt, not just put in the time. He came over to me, put his arm on my shoulder and said he had never seen me like that before and that I had, indeed earned my belt.

People who had been watching were clapping and many of them came out onto the floor to congratulate me. The feeling was fantastic, better than any high I had ever experienced. The black belt presentation was a month later to give us time to heal. My family did attend this and I felt like Jimmy Cagney in White Heat when he said, "Made it ma, the top of the world"., and yes my mother was there and I said that to her.

I continued on for another year and a half and earned my second degree black belt that amazingly, was easier than the first. Then I retired but still instruct a couple of classes a week. I had achieved my goal and put myself through years of torture all because of jealously. Today my certs and belts hang on the walls of my den for all to see. Well, that's my story so now let me address the elephant in the room.

Yes I am a black belt and yes, I am also transgendered. I am proof of what can be accomplished if one puts their mind to the task at hand. Today I am so glad that I saw it through and is possibly the greatest achievement of my life. People who know me and have seen Donna sometimes have a difficult time believing this, so I end up showing them the belts, certs, trophies, etc. The lesson learned here, grasshopper is to never judge a book by it's cover.