I was 10 years old when I joined Taekwondo, and in the beginning, I hated it. I didn’t want to try hard, I didn’t want to learn. I spent four months in this mindset, and it wasn’t until I earned my yellow belt that I realized how much I enjoyed what I was practicing. I began competitively sparring when I was 12, and I was the only girl my age in a sparring class full of older, stronger boys who I desperately wanted to accept me. I did not have a female role model in TaeKwonDo, and quite frankly I didn’t want one.
The reality is that I did need other people, just as you will. Behind each great individual are the people who inspired them and the people they themselves will inspire. I was entranced by the idea that my own determination was all that I needed to succeed. I always envisioned myself to be the girl who would destroy the idea that gender predicted athletic abilities. I remember watching the 2012 Olympics in my grandmother’s guest bedroom and frantically texting the boys in my sparring class about how I wanted to compete in Rio. We stayed up for several nights planning and spent the next several months throwing ourselves into training, and for a moment I felt like we were all finally united. From there, our passions faded and I suddenly found myself as an outlier again. And now the 2016 Olympics are happening and here we are, very far away from Rio.
I used to lay awake imagining what it might be like for those boys to fully accept me as an equal member of the sparring class. No matter how much I trained or how late I stayed after class, nothing seemed to change. Each sparring match seemed to end with me running out of breath, or limping out of the ring with an unwanted comment hanging in the air.
I grew very resentful of the boys. It was seemingly so easy for them to hit a kicking bag and make a sound like thunder. Even in my best moments, there was always something else I needed to fix. This was something I grew to accept and anticipate; eventually, it made me want to stop trying altogether. I hope that none of you ever feel like that, and I like to think I’ve done as much as I can to insure against it. Do not ever try to determine your own worth by comparing yourself to those around you.
Each of you know what it feels like to be the only girl in a group of boys and I’ve never see it phase you. I’ve watched many of you grow closer as a group over the last few years; I've felt truly honored to be teaching girls that are so dedicated to their dreams, and I'm additionally honored to be the instructor you all seem to admire. I love that you aren’t in competition with each other; you’re supportive and collaborative. I cannot even begin to explain to you how valuable each of you is to one another.
I started teaching when I was 12, about the same time I was entering the adult class. It gave me new confidence, and it allowed me to explore the martial art in a new manner. I’ve always noticed that I never fully grasp something until I teach it to someone else, and Taekwondo was no exception. I encourage each and every one of you to take the opportunity to impart your own knowledge onto those around you, it will always improve your own performance in the long run.
I began to see you young girls in the classes as small, excitable versions of myself. I may have reluctantly joined at 10 years old, but some of you already had more passion than me at six years old. In the few years, I’ve been teaching you, I hope that I’ve inspired you as much as you’ve inspired me. I hope that you learn from me, but don’t necessarily strive to become me. You are each your own individual and it does you no good to attempt to become another, especially when you could be so much more. I’ve always believed that a good teacher leaves a part of themselves instilled within their students, and I like to think the part of me instilled in each of you is the belief that you are capable of anything. There is nothing any of you cannot do or become. Do not hesitate to reach out for assistance or advice, you are never as alone as you think you are.
