I yelled, swung out my arms, and jabbed my knee up as hard as I could into my attacker. I squared off again and took a deep breath.
I was in a room full of women and each of us were fighting off imaginary predators. The occasion was a monthly women’s self-defense workshop that met on a Saturday morning in August at Traditional Okinawan Karate of Brooklyn in Bushwick. Laurel Leckert, 30, was leading the class and explained that our voices are as much of a deterrent as our knees and fists.
“As women, we’re taught to be quiet and submissive and sweet,” Leckert told the 18 women in attendance. “But use your voice. Yell. Please yell. Always yell.”
The dojo began holding the classes in response to a string of attacks against women that happened in Bushwick in late 2012. A pattern had emerged in the assaults. In each, a male assailant approached a woman from behind, slammed her into a wall, and groped her.
The series of ambushes stopped after a few weeks without an arrest and no suspect was ever identified, but women in the area remained on alert, trading information in grocery stores, bars, and on street corners about other, less publicized sexual assaults.
During that time, a flyer went up at the Morgan Avenue L station announcing something called the Brooklyn Bike Patrol that offered, and still offers, free bicycle or walking escorts for women heading home at night. The classes started not long after.
But in 1999, the streets of North Brooklyn were less bustling. There was not much night life beyond Bedford Avenue and there was no Brooklyn Bike Patrol. I was living on the border of Williamsburg and Greenpoint at the end of a sleepy street in a mostly industrial area, a 15-minute walk from the Graham Avenue L stop. I was returning home from a party early one morning in October when a man followed me home and attacked me on my front doorstep.
I fought him off and he fled, leaving a piece of twine with a small noose tied on one end hanging around my neck. The man was later arrested for trying to kill me and for raping three neighborhood women.
Fourteen years later, I feel incredibly lucky that I came out of the attack with no injury besides a rope burn. Since my close call, I have always wanted to take a self-defense class, and the words of the women in a basement dojo learning kicking and jabbing techniques with me offered a reminder of why female-only sessions are so necessary.
“I get catcalled every day,” one woman said as an explanation of why she came.
Another said that she needs self-defense skills because she often travels alone.
Flora Hardy, a 15-year-Bushwick resident in her late 40s, had seen a flyer for the workshop in her building and encouraged her 24-year-old daughter Tanysha to join her.
“The area that I live in and the times that I do come in, it’s late, and I’m alone,” Flora said.
Leckert says these kinds of stories are why she keeps teaching a class for women, including transgender women, only.
“It can be intimidating coming to a karate class full of dudes,” Leckert explained.
In addition to yelling, kneeing, and boxing at the ears — the basics — the 90-minute intensive ran us through a dizzying number of moves. Slap, grab, and twist was a class favorite. Many of us yelled in surprise at how much pain we could inflict when trying it out on our own inner thighs. The spot above the clavicle is an especially sensitive target; we also learned. If pushed correctly, it affects the function of the epiglottis, and therefore, a person’s oxygen supply.
But the overall message was as much common sense as “Karate Kid.” Steer clear of risky situations and try to avoid conflict first, Leckert told us. But violence against women can come out of nowhere and, when it does, she said, it is good to have mechanisms to call upon.
“You might feel like a small cat that no one is afraid of, but if you ever step on a cat’s tail, it squeals and makes a fuss,” Leckert said at the close of the session. “Today, cat. Tomorrow, tiger.”
Women’s self-defense workshop at Traditional Okinawan Karate of Brooklyn [248 McKibbin St. near Bushwick Avenue in Bushwick, (718) 418–9892, www.tokarate.com]. Next class Nov. 9, 5–7 pm, free.
