A step back

It's funny how these things sometimes happen in close succession. Taking one step back from what you're doing in life can make you take another and another as the big picture becomes more clear. And sometimes it just takes a tiny push for everything to suddenly snap into focus.

Just a few weeks ago, I decided to withdraw from the race for PR Coordinator because of legal and health concerns. Today, I am completely dropping any other leadership positions I may officially or unofficially hold where there are others to take my place. I will let them deal with the drama and the sleepless nights, the days lost to worry, regret, and hope. I'm not cut out for it; I never have been. I simply have done it because I get frustrated when work goes ignored or unfinished.

That isn't to say that I won't participate in Belegarth anymore - I will still aid when called, and I will still quietly share my thoughts and lessons on this blog. After all, this was started as my catharsis. If you would like to chat about the state of things and what could be done, I am always available. If you need to yell about how awful some of the people are, I will listen. But just as I've consciously chosen to avoid a unit, so I will avoid pushing out my proclivities to the world.

I've realized that though I get great joy in sharing ideas and having them both challenged and implemented, the culture of Belegarth is one in which I cannot ultimately survive if I am too involved. I can already see I'm on the road to subconsciously avoiding events again. It's hard to enjoy them when all you see is the duty and the work, the responsibility to suffer through for the sake of others. I love Belegarth, but there is little joy in it for me outside of the occasional good practice or conversation. It's been that way for a long time now, and I haven't wanted to face that fact. Above all, I haven't wanted to leave behind all the friends I've made.

I hope by stepping back even further, but not truly leaving, I can find something, anything, that genuinely makes me happy about Belegarth other than a select few people. I admit, my faith isn't strong that it will come, since fighting seems to only fill me with fear, anger, and frustration (Maybe I could become a Sith?).

Who knows, I might just be one of those that doesn't belong in Belegarth; it wouldn't be the first time I've thought it. Regardless, I feel I owe it to myself, my husband, those I support, and those who have supported me to try to renew my connection with Belegarth, so I can continue be a positive influence in small ways. I can't do that as a leader.

I hope you all understand. More importantly, I hope you'll help me to not make the same mistake again. I know I will be tempted to become more involved again. I really can't handle the spotlight; I know that now.

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Belegarth and Binge Drinking

Before I begin, I think you should all know exactly who's writing this, so you can understand my biases. I don't really drink at all. I don't abstain for religious or medical reasons, but because I don't like how it makes me feel, how it tastes, or how it is used as an excuse for destructive behavior. I don't mind other people drinking in moderation, and I have plenty of friends that have way more fun after a couple of beers. I'm one of those annoying people who would rather party sober because I find nights more exciting when everyone can remember what happened. Obviously, not everyone is like that, and I respect that people have fun in different ways, but I won't willingly choose to be part of drunken shenanigans.

With that background, I'd like to point out something that made me extremely disappointed when I saw it. It's part of the official schedule for Spring Wars this year:

Now, the issue of professionalism aside, I realize this is a joke. I certainly laughed when I first saw it. But then it dawned on me why I was laughing: because it's true.

We may make fun, but when I thought back to just how many problems I had seen due to this kind of behavior at previous events, I became deeply disappointed that an event team would implicitly condone it. This sort of thing is exactly why many people won't run for the BoD and a large part of why I withdrew from the race for PR Coordinator - if something bad goes down, especially if Belegarth is seen approving this behavior, there is no liability insurance to protect them from a lawsuit. It's also part of the reason why going to events is a hard sell to those who have families to think about. Although most Belegrim are just fine, the few who overdo it cause problems for everyone.

The way I see it, an event goer's right to have fun however they want ends where damage to other peoples' events begins. I'm not talking about just annoying people, but doing things that could get Belegarth permanently banned from a park, legitimate harassment, disrupting the event, or damaging/destroying property. Almost every event I have been to has had something from that list occur to me or someone I know, usually when drunkenness was involved. I can't imagine how many others I don't know are affected by it.

A short list of a few things I have witnessed over the years:

• Rape whistles being blown all night "for fun". As a young woman going to her first event, I kept thinking "What if someone really needs to use a rape whistle? Will anyone notice?" and was very glad I was staying with my boyfriend.
• A random, drunk stranger hanging out by the women's bathroom that told me "you can't go in there" very seriously when I walked up. I was alone and had no clue if he was messing with me, but I didn't see any signs so I continued on my way. He then followed me as I walked around the corner to go in yelling "hey, why aren't you listening to me?!" behind me along with a few other colorful things. I didn't walk to the bathrooms alone after that.
• Fighting being delayed for several hours because someone had broken bottles on the field. Event coordinators had to clean up so fighters wouldn't have glass shards in their feet.
• Drunks yelling near our camp until 2am, purposefully keeping everyone awake. The worst part was that I was running the crack-of-dawn shift at Troll. Not exactly a nice "thank you" for helping with the event.
• Lots of vomit on other peoples' things. Good luck getting the guy who did it to clean it up - chances are he doesn't even remember.
• General damage or destruction of other people's property. Chairs were the most common victim, but even tents happened occasionally when enough alcohol was involved.
• Underage drinking. I may personally not care about it, but that is a huge problem for more than just the drinker if anything really bad happens.
• Drunks running through a camp, tripping over all the tent lines because they're too uncoordinated, and leaving the camp to re-pitch everything they knock down.

This list doesn't even include all the stories I've heard from others, many of which relate to serious sexual harassment. I realize some of this is just jerks being jerks, but too often it's seen as "okay" or "funny" to do these things because you're drunk, as if the responsibility for your actions and words no longer applies because you have alcohol in your system. Well, someone has to pay the price for you, whether it be the woman you scare away from events, the fighter who has to replace their camping gear, security giving up their night to keep you under control, or event coordinators dealing with the park or police.

Let me leave you with this message: have fun, enjoy your drinks, but please watch out for your fellow Belegrim and don't encourage this behavior. If you want to get wasted, fine, but respect the people around you. Watch out for the "problem" people in your camp, the ones who are most likely to do something really stupid in a destructive way, not a funny way. The more fun had at someone else's expense, the fewer Belegrim will be willing to coordinate and go to events. Please don't drive away the people who give you awesome fighting and a great nightlife because you can't control yourself with alcohol.

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Fighting Mindfully: How did you kill me?

Taking criticism is difficult. Asking for criticism and then taking it is even harder, especially when the critique tears apart something you've been working hard at. But it is necessary for improvement.

It is easy to get caught up in the culture of "Well, I put myself out there, which is more than most people can say, so I don't care what people think. I'm awesome because I believe I am." It's fine for some things, especially those you do just for fun, but that mentality is a killer of skill. It's one of the easiest ways to get stuck at a plateau. You stop listening to those who can help you because you don't want to deal with the voice which says "you could be better if you stopped doing all these things wrong."

Sometimes your best isn't good enough - yet. Until you learn to accept that, and know it is a reflection of time, good practice, and effort instead of your self-worth, you will struggle to improve beyond what you already know. Unfortunately, everyone has blind spots. We need our companions and even complete strangers to tell us what we don't want to hear, so we can know the truth of how we are doing and how to improve.

Okay, nice life philosophy and all, but what does that have to do with fighting?

Learning how to fight in Belegarth for most is an uncomfortable experience of trial and error with the help of their peers. There's very little in the way of standardized instruction. This haphazard manner of doing things is made worse by the multitude of body types and sizes that flow through the ranks, each of which pass on "tricks" of questionable soundness. You may slowly figure out how kill every one else at practice given enough time, except maybe that one guy who almost always beats you no matter what you do. But no matter how good you are at home, when you eventually go to a big event, you'll probably find yourself on the losing side of the fighting equation more often than not.

At this point you may think "Wow, I wish I could fight like that guy", or maybe you'll just give up on fighting at the national level. After all, you've already learned all you think you can learn at home, you've read every article online, and you're still not good enough to win. Maybe it's time to throw in the towel and give up your aspirations of being a great fighter. You'll never be able to compete with those other stick jocks.

I'd like to offer you an alternative.  Use their experience for your own gain. You'll find that most of the ones who live and breathe fighting are excited to impart their knowledge. Always be prepared to ask the question "How did you kill me?"

Even casual sparring can be extremely helpful if you fight mindfully.

Now, not every fighter will be willing or able to answer that question, but it is still worth asking both at events where there are more skilled players and when you're sparring back at home. You'll probably be surprised at how people see your fighting. Of course, you still need to use your best judgement when listening to their advice, but at the very least, you'll suddenly have a new aspect of fighting to focus on. Understanding your weaknesses by asking the person who sees them most clearly (your opponent) and using that knowledge to improve is the fastest way to go from "okay" to "great". It still won't be easy, but you certainly don't need to give up on getting better as long as you're willing to take critique.

And in case you're thinking "well, that's easy for her to say", I'd like to be clear that this is my biggest struggle with fighting. Even sparring against my husband, his pointing out flaws in my fighting can be enough to reduce me to tears some days. I usually "know better" than to make those mistakes, so hearing I am still failing is incredibly frustrating. But, when the dust settles and I drag myself out to try again, I am more conscious of those errors and can correct them; something I wouldn't be able to do if I was left to improve on my own. It may hurt your ego, but there is no shame in asking for help from those better than you.

In short, this is my advice to you: If you want to become a great fighter, find someone who kills you every time at your next event and ask how they do it. You'll likely learn more from that one encounter than months of "figuring it out" back at home. It may sting to hear what they have to say, but you'll be better for it.

Plateaus are obviously a common issue in fighting. For another take on it, check our Sir Torrence's blog.

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Holding your first sword

Not my first time with a sword, but pretty darn close.

I think most Belegrim remember the first time they held a foam sword. For many of us, it was an experience much like a cat that had climbed to the top of a very big tree: “This seemed like a good idea at the time, but I have no idea what to do now.” What we chose to do next shaped our time in Belegarth. As a non-com who owns her fair share of weapons, I'd thought it might be interesting to share my own story.

The very first time I ever carried a sword was after hanging out at one of my first real practices. You may recall that it took a while to get there. My boyfriend at the time, who had recently become interested in Belegarth, purchased a longsword during practice so he had something to fight with. On a whim, I picked it up while he was packing his other things. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing - how to hold it, how to swing it, nothing.

I should have expected it, being the girl who used to play fight with sticks until her knuckles bled, but there was an instant connection with having this foam weapon in my hands. I’m sure I must have looked like Gollum at that moment, clutching it to myself and insisting that I would carry it home for him. There was no chance anyone (including my boyfriend) would be able to take it back from me until I’d sparred someone with it. I remember an uncontrollable grin splitting my face on the walk home. For the first time in my life, I had a sword I could hit people with. It was glorious.

Now “sword I could hit people with” is a bit misleading. What I really mean is "sword I was allowed to hit people with". You see, as soon as I tried to swing said longsword, using the whole of my 5’2” frame and non-existent strength training skills, I realized that I couldn’t actually control the thing. I flailed wildly and grumbled obscenities at this foam on a stick that would not do my bidding. I’m pretty sure it only took about five playful swings of that heavy monster to really hurt my wrist, and I couldn't continue.

Of course, that didn’t stop me completely. I did try a few more times, but it wasn’t meant to be. Almost every attempt ended badly: I re-injured my wrist again, got nailed in the head repeatedly, and even tripped on a sidewalk while retreating and skinned both my hands. After enough of this, I gave up before ever stepping on the field. I still bought my own sword because I felt that connection with fighting, but I wouldn’t ever spar with it.

I wish I knew then what I know now. If someone had told me that sword was too heavy and long for me, I might have never hurt my wrist that first time. If I had trusted someone at practice to teach me, I might have learned ways to prevent the worst of my injuries and never been pushed into a sidewalk by an over-enthusiastic newbie. If I had been handed a sword earlier by a veteran, I might actually be a fighter today.

Everyone only gets one first encounter with foam weapons. Make it a good one.

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The warriors among us

It’s strange phenomenon, how easily a veteran can pick out other skilled fighters in a mob of Belegrim. It reminds me of a senior in high school, intuitively spotting gullible Freshmen ripe for pranking. Of course, there are some easy indicators like impressive garb or armor, but even with nothing but street clothes and a sword in their hand, the battle-hardened of Belegarth are still obvious.

Despite this, I often get pegged as a fighter. It even happens among people who have known me for years, casually asking “Hey, why haven’t you gotten on the field yet?” At first I assumed it was just how much I talk about fighting, or maybe a few friends trying to be nice to me, and maybe that is still part of it. But it has even happened from those who have no interest in me whatsoever, who just see me sitting at the sidelines and assume I’d rather be on the field. It’s a logical assumption, I suppose - they’d certainly rather be on the field than watching.

In light of this, I thought I’d explore some of the ways I spot experienced fighters short of their prowess on the battlefield, to maybe understand what they see in me.

1) They are fit

This is more true for younger fighters than older ones. Not all Belegrim who are in great shape are also great fighters, but most great fighters are at least in decent shape. Older fighters can get by possessing a grizzled demeanor instead of fitness, having already passed their fit glory days.

2) They hold conversations about fighting during downtime

Most good fighters never really stop talking about Belegarth when they’re at practice unless they’re in the company of friends from outside of the sport. They swap war stories, give advice, and complain about their fellow fighters. The longer the fighter has been around, the more elaborate and exhaustive their tales.

3) They seem to be friends with many other experienced fighters

Even the most reclusive fighter gets to know others when they’ve been to a few events. However, great fighters actively seek out a challenge. They are always sparring the best they can find, so you can expect them to be on speaking terms with many other top-tier combatants.

4) They hold a sword casually and comfortably

As it turns out, swinging a foam sword isn’t a natural motion for most people. For some, it can take years before the weapon feels like an extension of their arm instead of an unwieldy anchor. The familiarity from hundreds of practice hours shows not just in the speed and accuracy of their shots, but in how naturally a sword rests in their grip.

5) They carry themselves with confidence on and off the field

Like most things in life, talking and moving with confidence can be all that’s needed to make people think you know what you’re doing. For most fighters, there’s a swagger that grows with their kill count, a visible reminder of their place on the battlefield. It is the same attitude that sends newbies running, even if the fighter is only carrying a shield.

Looking at this list, I find myself surprised by how many of these items apply to me, and maybe understand a little more about why I’m often mis-identified as a fighter. Strong posture, a good head for fighting, and a clear voice when needed can be enough to make you look like you belong on the field. And who knows, maybe I do.

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The Fighter's Shadow

Who is the fighter’s shadow?

They are the tireless men and women who serve Belegarth, never receiving a word of thanks or praise.

They are the non-coms, spending hours making garb for their friends, forgotten with the words “lay on”.

They are the significant other, left alone all day as they wonder what role they have at an event.

They are the curious newbie, full of hope and questions but ignored by their veterans.

They are all those who suffer under the weight of Belegarth’s apathetic, abrasive culture but still believe in its promise.

We are often not seen, not heard, but we are always there: watching, working, and waiting for the chance to make a difference. We know the sport and love it, even as we can barely find our voice.

This blog is to catalog the thoughts of one woman who has always struggled in the shadows other great fighters, including friends. It is a way to speak out and share the world the fighters do not always see, even on the field. I encourage every Belegrim who stops by to leave their comments and stories, that we can understand more about the diversity that is part of the Belegarth Medieval Combat Society.

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Do you want to spar?

“Do you want to spar?”

An innocent question, asked thousands of times at every Belegarth event, dozens even at a single practice. It is short and sweet but holds layers of meaning. It can be sign of respect, an offer to help, or even the beginnings of friendship. It is a symbol of inclusiveness, a way to reach out to our fellow Belegrim and say, “Hey, let’s learn together.”

But, despite its benign nature, that simple phrase has triggered terrible anxiety in me for nearly eight years. After a lifetime of competing with men in academics and my career, I’m paralyzed when I try to compete with them in Belegarth. Do I want to spar?

Yes, but I am afraid.

I fear embarrassing myself in front of you, whom I respect.
I fear losing the respect that I have already earned from others.
I fear letting how easily intimidated I am by the strong and athletic show.
I fear crying in front of you, not out of pain, but frustration.
I fear making you feel guilty for pushing me and watching me struggle.
I fear being yet another woman who is seen as female first, not a fighter.
I fear failing not only myself, but those who might walk my path in the future.
I fear disappointing you and myself.
I fear my weakness, my insecurities, myself.

So I answer, “No, I don’t fight.”

And that is sometimes that. They assume I don’t want to get hit, and leave me be. But often, especially among new fighters, they ask the next dreaded question, “Why?”

I can’t answer that I am afraid, or they will try to fix it. They will tell me as I’ve told hundreds of fighters before, “Just do it and have fun.” or “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t think any less of you if you’re bad” or “No one will care if you’re just an archer.” It’s kind, but that isn’t what I want out of fighting. It isn’t who I am.

Instead I make an excuse:

“I can take a hit, but I don’t want to get hurt.” “I’m too competitive and don’t want to lose my temper.” “I hang out too much with great fighters, they wouldn’t have fun fighting me anyway.”

And eventually, the fighter who offered will accept my answers and walk away, never approaching me again.

But that isn’t right.

I have seen it on the sidelines; the losses to apathy and tactlessness. I have seen fighters and non-coms leave in disgust at the attitude of their leaders. I have seen them walk away simply because they had no one they felt they could turn to with their problems. I’ve seen them fade into the ether with no one even noticing they left. I’ve even talked to new potentials who are afraid to go out on their own and directly contributed to losing them by saying “Sorry, I don’t fight, I can’t go out there with you.”

I never again want to be the reason we lose a fighter. I never want to be held powerless to change what needs to change. I want to help. And do to that, I must fight.

It is my personal challenge to overcome my fear, to accept the losses that will happen and embrace the strength gained. It is my duty to silence the voice that says “You can’t” and prove I can. It is for myself, yes, but also for the quiet Belegrim that may one day look for hope that they, too, can overcome.

And to those who already do fight, who have overcome the trials and tribulations of their personal path to great martial skill, I offer this challenge:

Watch, listen. For one event, do nothing but sit at the sidelines and be still. Do not socialize, herald, or fight. Just focus on those around you. Understand the quiet ones, the non-coms, the forgotten and voiceless fighters of Belegarth. See the potential for growth yourself, the holes that are invisible when you always stand on the field.

I think you may learn something. I know I do, everytime I answer “Yes”.

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