When my younger daughter was in sixth grade, my wife and I received phone calls from other parents complaining that Elizabeth played “too rough” with their daughters. Surprised to hear this, I gave these comments some thought. What is the nature of my younger daughter? I reflected. What does she need? What would be best for her? Then I promptly enrolled Elizabeth in boxing classes.
Well, Elizabeth boxed for a year and enjoyed it. But the boxing scene was…. semi-thuggy. I remember sitting there watching her middle school boxing peers talk about setting off fireworks on campus and brag about getting suspended for it. There was the “Mike Tyson effect” – rough kids from poor backgrounds in boxing who were, in my opinion, bad influences. Not all of them, but many of them. The participants in these boxing classes were almost exclusively boys, and many of them were knuckleheads at best, semi-thugs at worst. So I started looking for other avenues for Elizabeth.
The martial arts had been a huge influence in my life. It would be hard to overestimate the influence on me of gentle but tough Korean instructors who were the embodiment of “moving Zen” and personal integrity. They were role models to me in numerous ways. I would be thrilled to have Elizabeth under the influence of such a person. But her base had been in boxing, and I wanted to build from there. So I put Elizabeth in a local Muy Thai boxing studio – and the rest is history.
Here Elizabeth is defeating an opponent ten years older than her in a recent Thai boxing bout –
Not only does Elizabeth learn the fundamentals of Thai boxing, spar with peers and instructors, and get in great physical condition, but she also teaches the younger kids in the studio, makes good friends her age and older, and has a place where she belongs. The Thai boxing studio has been her home, so to speak, “away from home.” She has spent thousands of hours there, and we have spent thousands of dollars for lessons; these were excellent investments. Here Elizabeth in action doing some pad training:
The Pu’u Muy Thai boxing gym in Ventura, California was a place where Elizabeth was accepted and appreciated. A place where she could sweat until her clothes were completely soaked through – almost every time she went there. I detest my daughter laying there in bed at home watching digital screens by herself hour after hour (the pose which is so common and so damaging to the youth of her generation: “bed rotting” it is called) and every time she is at boxing it is a blow against that passivity and loneliness engendered by social media or video games which so afflicts young people. Elizabeth is active while Thai boxing. She is engaged. She is growing; she is getting stronger. My youngest daughter is not home by herself retreating into the lethe-like digital ether via TikTok, Instagram, or YouTube, thank God. While sweating and sparring in the gym, she is advancing in the real world. That is where it matters.
There have been complications and struggles. For example, Elizabeth is often the only girl in the higher-level sparring classes. She is strong and sturdy for her age, and the other men forget she is only 14-years old. Almost all the men there are big, strong, and aggressive – the stereotype of the fighting gym has some truth to it, although none of the guys are jerks or bullies. People choose boxing for a reason. Here is a typical scene at the studio –
– not a lot of ladies there. One time my daughter complained about an injury or discomfort in class, and all the men poo-poohed her. “Suck it up, buttercup!” they responded. (This was definitely the cultural vibe of the place.) My teenage daughter took their reproaches personally. Elizabeth complained to me later, “I’m just a girl!” I advised her gently to keep quiet and work through it.
Another time when Elizabeth was relatively new to sparring, she started crying when she got punched in the face. I was there personally for that session and saw it happen in real time. Elizabeth was sparring with one of the instructors, and he was pulling his punches and being gentle with her, while also landing punch after punch while she tried to hold back tears. I took Elizabeth home and she was upset. My wife also was angry about the “insensitivity” of the studio. The distaff side of my home (ie. everyone else but me) was up in arms. There were tears. Emotions were raw.
What did I do?
Nothing.
I said nothing. I kept my thoughts to myself.
What were those thoughts?
They were these: Elizabeth will get more used to taking a blow in time. She will become tougher in the boxing ring. Right now she is upset. She is emotional about what happened in class tonight. But she will be less so tomorrow and the next day. She will adapt. Elizabeth is stronger than she knows right now. She is tougher than she realizes. Everyone will see this, not the least her. Give it some time.
I did not say any of this to my daughter or my wife. Nothing I could have said would have helped at that time. So I stayed silent. Anything I said that evening to defend the Thai boxing studio would have just made things worse. I bit my tongue and said nothing. I kept my own council. I waited.
In the next few days Elizabeth did calm down. If anything, she was embarrassed at crying in front of the others. But I was there watching the whole thing, and the men in the boxing gym hardly noticed what had happened. I told Elizabeth she need not be embarrassed. “Just move on,” I told her. Elizabeth was new to sparring. This was normal, I thought. She would learn. And she did.
My Lord, with a wife and two daughters I have learned that after a long hard day of work and school the worst time to have a difficult discussion on a difficult topic is late at night. There have been a handful of occasions in my household when both daughters and my wife are upset and crying about something, while going on and on when we should all probably be in bed, and I say the following: “I’m out. I’m going to sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow. You should go to sleep, too.”
This is the take-away from this essay: my daughter Elizabeth will come to appreciate her time as almost the only girl sparring with a bunch of burly men with tattoos. The steam coming off these guys going back and forth on the mats fighting, and the windows of the studio fogged with the resulting salt water condensation; Elizabeth would come home with her legs and hips covered in dark black bruises: this was normal for Thai boxing. I suspect boxing and wrestling to be minute-for-minute the most arduous of all the physical exercises. Boxers and wrestlers struggle with “hygiene injuries,” because there is so much sweat everywhere that the struggle against bacteria and infection is constant. (Interesting question: Which had a more horrible odor? My daughter’s soccer cleats or boxing gloves?) The smell of a proper boxing gym is primal. It is hard to describe exactly, and hard to find anywhere else. This is all to the good. Boxing will toughen my daughter up as a young person, something which is invaluable in later life, in my opinion. I watch all these Thai boxers – mostly men, mostly macho – and they have taken Elizabeth under their wing. They respect her. She has earned their respect. As the only female, they gave her a special acceptance – which is wonderful. More women should have such a challenging and supportive experience in such an unapologetically mostly-male environment such as boxing.
My wife gives Elizabeth and Julia all sorts of invaluable help towards being a woman. I respect and appreciate that. There is the metaphorical land of women which is foreign to me, and I let my wife speak in the argot spoken there and teach our daughters how to speak that language. She and only she can help our daughters learn to act as women. All good. Towards all that, I am agnostic. But girls get invaluable aid from their fathers in other vital areas. I remember reading once about how so many distinguished women in history had strong relationships with their fathers which left them with the confidence and the ambition to make their marks upon the world. “Go for it, girl!” “You can do it!” “You are stronger than you think, and smarter than you know!”
That is what I hope my legacy is to my daughters, through Thai boxing and everything else: confidence and resilience. I want for them positive momentum while growing up, coupled with solid self-esteem earned through struggle. Yes, struggle. “The obstacle is the way,” they say. They are right. Difficulty is the crucible through which growth occurs. You must suffer into truth and struggle into strength. With the unconditional love of family and friends, any challenge can be confronted and faced down in this way. You are capable. Your father’s strength flows into you. Stoicism.
Unfortunately, much of the rest of America seems to be going in the opposite direction. Young people highlight their “mental health struggles,” and pull their punches in terms of ambition and audacity. The trend is towards embracing disappointment and dysfunction. “I’m so tired.” “I need to rest.” “The world is falling apart and I’m overwhelmed!” “I’m in crisis!” Anxiety and angst, and their kissing cousins exhaustion and depression, are rife. People increasingly take cannabis everyday for “medicinal purposes,” and they think that’s normal. Everything is victimization and trauma. Harm reduction. It is a defensive stance. It is life on unfirm ground, in my opinion. It is a weak position, in retreat. Teenagers used to struggle with being bored. Now they’re just mostly anxious. Fight against that, my daughter.
Look elsewhere, Elizabeth. Look at your father and his example. Look at the stoical Korean martial arts masters who were so important to him. Look at the lessons learned on the mats in your Muy Thai training. Examine what you learned explicitly, and also try to understand what you learned implicitly. “Teach all the time. If necessary, use words.” Exactly. “What you do speaks so powerfully I can’t hear what you say.” Totally. What is the lesson here? It is this: The ability to discern what is important and what is not. And the focus to work towards important goals and overcome obstacles and difficulties: my daughters, you are doing this now (whether you know it or not). Forward momentum and success in life begets more of the same moving forward. This is also true of disappointment and failure.
I love you, my daughters. A successful parent makes himself unnecessary: he helps produce children who can take care of themselves without mommy or daddy always wiping their nose. How many young people nowadays never really move beyond needing their parents to clean up their messes? My wife and I want something better for ourselves and our daughters.
So here it goes: Julia and Elizabeth, independence and autonomy are straight ahead: college, grad school, travel, career, love, motherhood, etc. Go forth and pursue the manifold possibilities which lie ahead of you. Your family, your inheritance, your backstop – it all lays solidly behind to help launch you towards adult life. You can do it. It is all there awaiting you. Get excited! Embrace life, don’t retreat from it. Your father (and mother) will always be your biggest fans.
