As Kate Sheldon entered the karate school, she caught a glimpse of Mark Dunham. He was a tall man with dark hair and eyes, a wide “tough-guy” jaw bone and a short deep scar on his right cheek. He was a solid looking broad-shouldered man with clearly defined arm and leg muscles, not the type that usually signs up for a Korean style karate class. In this martial art—stretch, speed and agility are valued over muscle strength. Kate knew that the shorter, thinner guys in the class didn’t like him. They whispered that Dunham worked in the police department.

            In the locker room, the women told stories about Durham. Two times he had pushed women against the wall then blamed them for taking up too much of the hall way.  Because of this, many of them waited until he passed before entering the hall.  Occasionally, upon seeing Dunham, a female student would suddenly turn and exit the building. 

            One woman, a buxom blonde with broad hips who wanted to learn self-defense and gain a boyfriend, had attracted Durham’s attention.  Everyone watched as Mark Dunham surrounded her, overwhelmed her and by her second karate lesson, made her his girlfriend. Three months later, rumors spread, she was pregnant, not yet married, but it was said that Dunham didn’t want her in the school anymore.

            Kate shared the bad feelings of every woman there.  Hadn’t they all had that experience at one time or another? A man comes into your life and everything changes—sometimes not for the good.

            Seeing the circle of men, which included Mark, Kate tugged at the strap of her shoulder bag, as if distracted.  She rushed past them toward the locker room.  Inside, the female students were dressing for class. Kate entered, kicked off her shoes and opened her bag.

            “Master Kim says tonight we’re practice-fighting,” one woman stated as she tied the inner belt of the white pants of her dobok.  “I hate fighting. I just want to do the exercises. You know, kick, kick, punch, turn and do it again.”

            “So why didn’t you join an aerobics class? Why’d you sign up for karate? You can see it’s all about fighting,” said another as she pulled the lapels of her white jacket across her chest and wrapped a green belt around her waist indicating that she was an intermediate student.

            “I get more for my money with karate. I get exercise and I learn self-defense.”

            “So you have to fight,” said the green belt.

            “I just want to know the self-defense techniques, just in case I need to use them.”

            “But you need the experience of fighting to know that you can do it,” said a woman wearing a blue belt, a student more advanced over the green belt. “You have to know you can do it—in your gut.”

            As Kate listened to the women, she wrapped her newly acquired red belt around her waist.  She had reached that level where she was no longer given patient explanations. She was now expected to know and do.  Her next level was that of Black Belt.

            Kate looked over at a petite woman standing in the center of the circle with her beginner yellow belt on. Her name was Lili. In the fashion world, she would be the envy of every woman.  She was so tiny, she could wear all the cutest dresses and shoes.

            “I’m learning karate because I’ve had too many bad experiences with men,” Lili said as she knotted the yellow belt around her waist.  “I’ve been abused too many times. I want to fight to defend myself. I need to know that I can be strong and safe.”

            A woman with a purple belt, one step below Kate’s red belt, stopped to look at Lili.  She was three times Lili’s size.  “Little Sister, you be strong.  If you can be strong, we can all be strong.”

            “Sah bum nim is calling the class together. Hurry,” a woman yelled from the door.

            The students lined up, standing barefoot on the cold classroom floor. Each one was dressed in white with a belt indicating the level of their training.  The instructors wore the highest level: the Black Belt. An instructor with one white stripe on the belt indicated 1^st dan, a new teacher and assistant.  The Master had four stripes on his Black Belt, the school was named after him.

            In the early days of taking classes, Kate had enjoyed the exercise and learning, but now that she had advanced, it was not fun anymore.  The instructors hit and kicked her harder. They screamed in her face. They no longer laughed and encouraged her.  If anything, it seemed they were trying to discourage her.  Sometimes she felt so hurt she was sure the men were trying to drive her out of the class.  But afterward, as they left the dojang, they were all friendly again, joking and saying good night in the parking lot.  It was just part of learning how to be tough.  This was not something that women were trained to be. It wasn’t easy to live up to these standards.

            But Kate also liked the challenge. At her job all day, she was always an assistant, having to clear every decision with the higher ups.  In karate class, she was becoming an expert.  She was even being brought in to teach the children’s classes. Maybe someday she would teach adults.

            “Cha ryuht” the master called.

            The students lifted their heads.

            “Kyung nae”

            The students bowed, keeping their faces turned upward to their master, as is taught in Korean style.

            “Ahnjoe!”

            The students sat down to meditate. After ten minutes, they stood for some basic movements to warm up.  Soon they were lined up, eight students down one line, eight down the other.  Looking across to each other, they smiled, shook hands and bowed to their opponent.  Taking the fighting stance they waited for the signal.

            “Seijak,” Master Kim yelled.  The students began sparring.

            After a few minutes sparing with one partner, Master Kim pulled one person from the end of the line and sent this student up to the beginning so that everyone moved down to the next partner. 

            “Seijak,” The sah bum nim called again.

            Kate lifted her fists, keeping her elbows down to protect her ribs. She bounced back and forth on her feet to miss the glancing blows of her opponent.  He was a blue belt and this was his first fight with a higher ranking belt.  Kate knew she had to demonstrate self-control toward a lower-level student.

            “Kalyeo!”  The line shifted again and each fighter was given a new partner for sparring.

            Kate took a quick look down the line. Mark Dunham was four people down on the opposite side.  If they kept going, she would have to spar with him.  He too was a red belt, so they should be level with each other in technique.  She held this hope in her mind as she pretended to fight the orange belt across from her.

            “Lili, step aside,” the master commanded.

            Everyone stopped.  They knew Master Kim was about to give them a lecture. It was a chance to rest and catch some breath.

            “Lili, you are small. We all know this.”

            Laughs and snickers bubbled out of the students.  The master looked around at them with indignation.

            “If Lili learns technique, if she does proper technique, she can defeat everyone in this room who laughs. The power is not from size or strength, it is from doing proper technique.”

            The students smiled up at the master.

            “Lili, you come now to the end of the line.”

            The master was playing tricks on them again.  He completely rearranged the line, pulling some from the left side to be on the right and vice versa. Kate was relieved to see that Mark was now on her line, so his chances of being her opponent were gone.  She smiled.

            She really didn’t feel like fighting him tonight.   She thought of the discussion in the women’s locker room about just wanting to do the training for the exercise. That would be nice. But there was a promise of more in the karate class—it was the promise of power.  Power beyond who you were and what society expected you to be able to do. Kate wanted that power. For a woman, to live without fear was a freedom she wanted to experience.

            The sparring began again. Feet and fists struck out toward opponents.  The stiff white fabric of cuffs and pant-legs snapped in the air. Master Kim screamed, “Kalyeo!”  The fighters stopped and looked toward their master. He was frowning.

            “Mark, who are you fighting with?”

            “I’m fighting with a purple belt, Master Kim.”

            “And is not a purple belt beneath you?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Then why have you been fighting so aggressively?”

            “Well sir, I didn’t believe I was being so aggressive.”

            “Come here. I will pick you an opponent that you deserve.”

            The master looked around the room.  There were three Black Belts with one stripe. They would be ahead of Mark Dunham and could easily take the arrogance out of him.  Kate watched and gasped for breath. These few moments were a cherished opportunity to rest and renew.  The master’s eyes kept roaming around the group of students.

            “Kate!”

            “Yes, Sah bum nim?”

            “Everyone clear the floor,” the master commanded.  “Kate and Mark have red belts. Kate and Mark will spar.  Get the equipment.”

            Several students ran to a closet and brought out two body aprons that contained metal slats to prevent the breaking of ribs.  Red padded helmets were placed on Mark’s and Kate’s heads.

            “This will be full contact. No death blows. I want to see technique. Control.  Sim shin dahn ryun. Mind and body discipline.”

            Kate stood as they wrapped the body armor around her and placed the thick foam helmet on her head. They handed her some mitts. This was not how she hoped the class would go tonight.  But she had to silence the little girl in her who wanted to cry and run out of the room.  She had to deal with what life had thrown at her. It was all part of sim shin dahn ryun.

            Mark accepted his gear, donned his own helmet and mitts.  The two red belts bowed to each other then took their fighting stance.

            The other students stepped back and leaned against the walls.  Some sat on the floor and looked up.  All eyes were watching.

            Kate took a few breaths. It was harder to fight with the gear on.  The helmet made it difficult to see.  The body armor hugged her chest too tight to breath. Her skin felt wet and warm.  Her mitts seemed awkward and useless.  Why did they train so hard with empty hands and bare feet only to put this junk on for full contact?  Full contact with Mark Dunham—a nightmare come true.

            Kate held her fists up and danced around her opponent. She threw a few punches and thought: “Maybe I could wear him down chasing me in a circle.” It was a strategy she had seen used on those who smoke cigarettes.  They become breathless and give up.  But Master Kim said he wanted to see technique.  So she thought of techniques.  A kick, a jab.  A battery of kicks and punches.

            Mark responded by slamming her in the arm.  The pain seared to the bone. She jabbed him in the stomach.

            “Technique!” screamed the master.  “I want to see technique!”

            Mark pounded one fist after another.  Kate blocked and huddled to avoid the blows. Huddling was not a technique. It was cowardice.  She wanted to go home tonight, not to the hospital.

            “Technique!” screamed the master.

            It was time to get dirty. Kate swung a round-house kick to Mark’s knee. Surprisingly, he went down.  The students let out a cheer.  Kate laughed.  The sweat on her forehead rolled down her face into her mouth. She drank her own salty brine.  Mark got to his hands and knees then pushed himself up to standing.  She could see the anger in his eyes. She had humiliated him and he was not going to tolerate it.

            He charged toward her. His kicks came at her ribs, her thighs.  She punched him in the ribs and kneed him in the groin.

            “Bitch,” he growled in her ear.

            She jabbed her elbow into his stomach and stomped on his right foot.  She could see from the narrowness of his eyes, he was losing control.  He had lost jung shin dong il, his concentration of the mind. He was operating on emotion.

            Suddenly his foot came up high and slapped down.  It was meant to be a drop-kick, but he did it poorly, misjudging the distance between them. His foot scraped her arm and dropped to the floor, a wasted effort.  He tried to correct his loss by spinning and coming at her with a high round-house kick. She pulled herself back, but his foot slapped her on the side of the head near her jaw.  Ringing sounds filled her ears. This was getting scary. Where was Master Kim?  Why wasn’t he calling off this fight?

            Kate could not see well. Her own sweat was running like a river into her eyes.  If she just fell to her knees and dropped to her hands, she could fake passing out. She could get out of the fight.  She gasped for breath but the slats in her vest held her tight.

            Mark slammed her in the back of her ribs. The last bit of air gushed out of her. 

            She had never meant to get this involved with karate. She was just going to learn the self-defense techniques, and after a few months, maybe, she’d go on to something nice, like yoga. But the promise of the power had tempted her.

            Kate staggered around. Where was Mark now? Was he behind her? Never turn your back on your opponent.  She quickly twirled around and saw his body rising and spinning in the air.  He was doing a flying side-kick.  His heel was headed toward the temple of her skull. A death blow.

            She saw it coming as if in slow motion. Master Kim had said “No death blows.”  He wanted technique.  Kate knew a counter move to flying side-kicks that made them dangerous for the one doing the kick.  Mark’s large muscular legs were up in the air.  Beyond was Lili, sitting on the floor looking at Kate with fear and hope in her eyes. 

            Kate’s body dropped down.  She then came up under her opponent.  Raising her arms, she pushed his big leg higher, tipping him over.  He fell to the floor. 

            “Kalyeo!” Master Kim screamed. The competition was ended. 

            The students were cheering and looking at Kate with joy in their eyes.

            Kate stood dazed. She looked down at Mark. He was looking up at her from the floor. His face was twisted in anguish.  He must have pulled a ligament in his fall.

            Someone grabbed Kate’s arm and held it in the air, as if she had won a prize fight.

            “Excellent,” said Master Kim.  “I asked for technique and this is Kate.   I commanded no death blows.  But Mr. Dunham here does not like to listen to his teacher.  You have broken the rules, sir.”

            Someone pulled the helmet off Kate’s head.  She was free again.  The cool air lifted her spirits.  Someone unleashed the body armor.  Kate could breathe deeply again. 

            Remembering that she must express a fighter’s sense of honor, Kate leaned over to Mark and offered her hand. He looked away. He grasped his ankle and began massaging it.

            Master Kim was saying something profound on the other side of the room now. The students were laughing and cheering.

            “We were told no death blows,” Kate said to Mark.  “Why did you break the rules?”

            “In a real fight, there are no rules,” Mark responded.

            “I guess not,” she replied.

            Kate wobbled across the dojang floor to the locker room.  Class was over. She washed up and changed clothes. All the women smiled at her, patted her on the back.

            “You did good, girl. Great technique. I only hope I can do as well,” said one of them.

            Kate smiled and walked calmly out the door.  As she walked across the parking lot she enjoyed the cool night air.  She had felt the power.  But more importantly, she had learned something from her opponent.  She was foolish to think he would play by the rules.  Now in the dim light, she saw Mark Dunham coming toward her.  It gave her a chill.

            “Hey man,” she yelled, “thanks for the challenge. You have a good night.”

            Mark laughed. “Yeah, babe, you have a good night, too.”

            But that was it.  Kate never saw Mark Dunham at the school ever again.