Failing foward: or How I learned to love the comp.

As many of you know, I've been practicing jiu-jitsu for almost two years now, focusing primarily on self-defense rather than competition. I never imagined myself stepping into the ring; I preferred training, hanging out, and to be honest, shitposting reels and memes. But one day, as I was scrolling along the internet, the Instagram algorithm suggested a jiu-jitsu video with an unsolicited piece of good advice: “If you’re training a martial art for self-defense, the only real way to test yourself is in competition—it forces you to confront uncertainty".

As someone who has frozen in confrontation before, this message resonated with me—and honestly, it pissed me off. Because they were right, and I couldn’t ignore it. I had to position myself to compete. With a new goal to face, it seemed kismet when I learned my academy was hosting its first tournament, "The Champion Cup". I realized it was time to step into the light. If I was going to compete, home-court advantage seemed like the right move.

Leading up to the event, my professors’ advice was simple: stay focused, be aggressive, and after the match, show good sportsmanship. This was big for me because I’m a naturally social, empathetic person—to a fault. When I’m sparring, if someone mentions they’re hungry or in pain, I subconsciously start holding back, worrying about their well-being, even if they assure me they're fine—even if they’re a higher belt, a more accomplished practitioner. Yes, even when I'm a white belt sparring with a black belt. For someone who considers themselves emotionally intelligent, I can be surprisingly dumb.

Reflecting about these shortcomings in the  fields of my mind I found a singular Daisy admiring themselves in a crystal pool of water. This wildflower grabbed me by the face and told me a parable. and I  listened  closely to this cautionary tale

A man gets shot by an arrow, and while  His friends & companions, kinsmen & relatives would provide him with a surgeon, and the man would say, 'I won't have this arrow removed until I know whether the man who wounded me was a noble warrior, a priest, a merchant, or a worker.' He would say, 'I won't have this arrow removed until I know the given name & clan name of the man who wounded me... until I know whether he was tall, medium, or short... until I know whether he was dark, ruddy-brown, or golden-colored... until I know his home village, town, or city... until I know whether the bow with which I was wounded was a long bow or a crossbow... until I know whether the bowstring with which I was wounded was fiber, bamboo threads, sinew, hemp, or bark... until I know whether the shaft with which I was wounded was wild or cultivated... until I know whether the feathers of the shaft with which I was wounded were those of a vulture, a stork, a hawk, a peacock, or another bird... until I know whether the shaft with which I was wounded was bound with the sinew of an ox, a water buffalo, a langur, or a monkey.' He would say, 'I won't have this arrow removed until I know whether the shaft with which I was wounded was that of a common arrow, a curved arrow, a barbed, a calf-toothed, or an oleander arrow.' The man would die and those things would still remain unknown to him.( 1) more on the parable of the poisoned arrow

This parable is the perfect parallel to why freeze in confrontational situations: my mind floods with every possible attempt to try and understand the assailant, instead of focusing on my own survival. Practicing jiu-jitsu has been about learning to prioritize my health, my safety, and my boundaries. It’s given me the confidence to say “no” without feeling the need to explain myself. This tournament was my chance to test myself without those empathetic limits. I didn’t know my opponent, and I didn’t need to think about them until after the match.

Soon after I arrived, I learned my opponent had canceled, meaning I’d get an automatic gold. I compartmentalized any feelings I had about it and went to the bathroom to change out of my gi, put on my jewelry, apply my favorite Casa Kevin dark lip, and sported my favorite Dolly Parton shirt. I floated around, taking in the matches. I had made it a point not to volunteer so I could focus on the competition part, and I'm glad I didn't slide back into a volunteer position because that would have taken me away from my own reflections and development. Watching all the other practitioners gave me space to contend with how I really felt. I envisioned how I wanted my day to end. I didn't want to win by default, and I didn’t want to post a lackluster follow-up to my incredible Snoopy meme on my Instagram story .

I sat and thought about why I train jiu-jitsu, I thought about the times I’d been harassed in public venues, space, transportation. It doesn’t happen every time, but it’s enough to shape how I move in the world. This is part of why I invest so much in creating digital spaces for myself and others—its safe behind my keyboard. But I know I am meant for so much more.

These experiences remind me of the risks I face , existing in a world that devours the empathetic and soft, and how much harder I would have to train to protect these characteristics I hold so dear. My queerness and the impossible task of blending in when I'm physically bodacious. Sometimes, and more often than you would think, when insecure people see me, full of joy and unapologetically taking up space, they hate it. As a result I’ve ended up in more down town scraps than I’d care to mention. Competing in a jiu-jitsu tournament kind of feels like those nights preparing myself to go out downtown —will I face an aggressor, will I be prepared? Will I meet new people? Will I freeze, or fight, will I make new friends? Its really a roll of the dice, a 50/50 chance.

The only thing that is certain, whether its in my BJJ journey or in my existence as a Queer person, I refuse to let the adventure pass me by. Being open to new experiences also means I'm putting myself out there to get hurt, and in either situation, I better have a good base.

So decided to advocate for myself and try to find an opponent to test my mettle. I resigned myself to the philosophy passed to me by my favorite Goblin: “A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are built for.”

My search was short and sweet. Michelle, a blue belt and owner of Garden Warrior Jiu-Jitsu in Harlingen, was up for a match. She’s even a bit taller than me, and when I asked her, she enthusiastically agreed.

My husband was quick to grab a gi so Michell could compete and soon a match was born. From nothing to something. Magic. However this was more community shenanigans that makes me love the sport as an observer-but I forgot I wasn't just observing, I would be participating! This shifted my focus—I wasn’t thinking about aggression or self-defense anymore; I felt a sense of solidarity & friendship. Sitting next to Michelle, my earlier hyper-focus and isolation faded. In prior preparation for my initial opponent, I had been listening to the same song on repeat to get in the zone, Baauer's SOW and trying my hardest not to talk to anyone.

Now, here I was beside a familiar face, both of us tired after a long tournament day leaning on each other to muster the energy for our fight ahead. It felt like those random downtown encounters—running into an old friend in a new place, unpredictable yet familiar; it was calm and good and I realized my guard was down, in the best kind of way , in the worst time and place.

Then—BOOM, MIND GAMES (just kidding)! Michelle mentioned she’d forgotten her inhaler, and suddenly my "mom brain" switched on like a Russian sleeper agent. I awoke from the warmth of living, laughing, and loving to realized where I was and what I was about to do. Michelle is the stronger fighter; she's a blue belt after all, no question, but as soon as I knew she didn’t have her inhaler, I realized my subconscious was triggered. I remember audibly saying, "Aw, FUCK." I thought, “This is what you get for cozying up to your competition—classic Laura...and the consequences of friendship!!!”

Instead of pushing myself to be aggressive like my professors wanted, I found myself focused on my opponents well-being. Which is ridiculous because Michelle is perfectly fine, and I need to trust people when they tell me that. Theres no reason for me to be mom-ing when I shouldn't - This wasn’t the mentality I had planned, but if that’s my “worst” trait? So be it! Lock me up and throw away the key! The match was about to begin and I just done goofed the mental part, now onto the physical..

The match started and Michelle and I kept going for collar grips, and the match stalled a bit, so I had to make a move.I felt more confused then anything, between the seriousness of what I wanted to do and the reality of what I was capable of. As soon as I went for something, a flash happened and It ended with me in her guard, trying to escape a triangle? Not sure it was so fast.All the while I'm pretty sure I swallowed some of that loose plastic indoor soccer field turf too. When it was over, I had two points to her nine, though I’m still not sure how I even got those. She followed white belt rules and supported me throughout, reminding me to breathe and avoiding the obvious wrist locks I accidentally set up for her. I've done round after round but why did a 3 minute round feel like forever? It was a different experience than I expected—I thought I was going to go in and turn up the aggression with someone I did not know, and instead, I fought against someone I genuinely appreciate and quite frankly look up to.

Nevertheless, I enjoy the process of going back and seeing the facets of the day, the gem that is Michelle and the community it takes to run a tournament like this. It wasn't the exact style of fight I had in mind, but things turning out as they did was definitely on brand, and it was definitely more interesting than auto-gold.

Here's to failing forward.