Black Belt: Not for Sale

Sacred.

This single word uttered repeatedly at a meeting yesterday has helped me understand on a new level why I struggled so much when I ran Tao of Texas Martial Arts Institute, and why black belt factories grate my nerves and test my compassionate spirit.

Yesterday at an AA meeting, the day’s topic morphed into how we must etch out time in our busy days to honor the things we find sacred.

Time to honor the sacred.

And it got me thinking:  This is why I get so angry at martial arts schools that charge outrageous tuition and churn out black belts like an assembly line—or worse, six-year-old black belts who don’t yet have the mental capacity to understand the weight and responsibilities of the belt.

The process of getting a black belt in many schools is no longer sacred. An important, life-changing rite of passage has been put on speed dial in exchange for a hefty monthly bank draft.

Now before you get all hot and bothered and prepare to write a Facebook rant in defense of your style and your school, know that I’m most likely not talking about you. (But you know who I’m talking about, right?)

I know a city full of excellent martial artists who run reputable schools. Through many martial arts conferences, I’ve met the finest martial artists and instructors from around the world who don’t belong in the aforementioned league. They’re the real deal, and it shows in how they conduct themselves and in the students they produce.

So, sorry. This post isn't about you. It’s not really even about them. It’s about me. It’s about why I have—after five years as a school owner and 15 years as a Taekwondo teacher—always struggled to take money in exchange for lessons.

Because to me, martial arts knowledge is sacred.

If a six-year-old cannot comprehend the meaning of sacred, I don’t understand how that kid can become a black belt. It’s as simple as that. (Unless, of course, that kid is the next Dalia Lama.)

I know so many good martial arts business owners who don’t have a problem with running a martial arts school as a business. By doing so, they are able to support their families and their communities, and they run great schools. And we NEED great schools. I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without a great school and instructor in San Antonio and many others right here in Austin.

Can martial arts be sacred and still a business?

Let me be drill down another rabbit hole: At what point does it cease to be sacred? When the belt is essentially sold and the process rushed along? When students are cheated out of a profound mental, physical, and spiritual experience because they are walking the path a little slower than expected—and the school owner needs to cover bills?

This is my issue. Again, my issue. Black belt factories have taken away what’s sacred about a martial arts life and have soiled the work that so many great martial artists do on a daily basis, like those who:

·        Speak at schools about combating bullying;

·        Teach self-defense at women’s shelters; and

·        Raise money and then travel hundreds of miles to an impoverished area of Alabama and work to revitalize the community.

I’ve tried to make my personal peace with martial arts and business for a long time. I may never get there. Because now I know that to me, it’s sacred.

But I applaud all who are doing the good work of teaching martial arts on a daily basis. I’m glad they can do it, because the world desperately needs more people who practice and pass on the full-circle skills that come with this way of life.

But for those who are selling us out—for those who are tarnishing our names and our way of life—in the words of infamous Honey Badger Mom Kelly Muir:

Stop it.