Imagine this: you successfully built up the courage to try a new workout.
The class starts with some light jogging and basic calisthenics. You feel a little clumsy but confident. But then the warm-up ends, the participants spread out, and things instantly become a lot more difficult. All the stretches and exercises feel unnatural and at times even painful for you. You envy the people in front of you who follow along with ease and grace while you struggle to do even the most basic steps.
After what seems like centuries of attempting to maneuver your body in ways it feels like it was never meant to move, you risk a glance at the clock – only 10 minutes remaining! The instructor excitedly gathers everyone to the center of the room. The participants form a circle and begin to sing and clap in unison. You clap off beat and attempt to decipher the foreign words of the songs. Two by two, the other students enter the circle. They throw kicks, do cartwheels and dodge each other with incredible grace and control, while everyone else sings and claps around them. You see that people are entering voluntarily and feel a wash of relief knowing you can just watch and enjoy the show.
But suddenly, someone gestures toward you. Despite your frantic head shaking, they are pulling you in! All eyes are now on you and your partner, who is awkwardly holding their foot above your head, encouraging you to duck under. You do so successfully, but don’t know what to do next. Like a kind parent at a little league match, your instructor distantly shouts out suggestions and words of encouragement: “Ginga! Move around! That’s it!” Your poorly developed form becomes even more haphazard as adrenaline rushes through your veins and blood fills your cheeks. This is your moment and you are NOT ready for it. You are the dancer with two left feet, the rapper with no comebacks. Even your partner seems uncomfortable. But in just a few more moments, someone “buys the game” and you are safely back on the outside of the circle, out of breath and clapping off-beat. You glance to your neighbors, expecting to see suppressed laughter or sympathetic smiles, but instead the others are singing and focused on the next game, seemingly unaware of the trauma you have just experienced.
Congratulations, you’ve just survived your first Capoeira class.
Capoeira is a Brazilian martial art that combines dance, acrobatics and fighting. African slaves in Brazil originally developed Capoeira as a way to practice self-defense with the ultimate goal of protecting themselves and escaping their slave masters, under the guise that they were really just dancing around and playing music together. Like many martial arts, Capoeira has a rich history filled with unique traditions, a complex history, and specific terminology. It even has it’s own genre of music and cultural instruments.
An awesome painting by artist and fellow Capoeirista Tony Paraná.
To become a Mestre in Capoeira takes decades – and anyone who has trained in the art understands why. In addition to physical mastery of the movements, Mestres need to be experts in singing, playing various musical instruments, teaching, and of course have a high degree of mental mastery as well.
I chose to write about my first day of Capoeira training after listening to Tim Ferriss’s podcast interview with Caroline Paul, a best-selling author, adventurer, and one of San Francisco’s first female fire fighters. In 2016, she wrote a NY Times Op Ed titled, Why Do We Teach Girls That It’s Cute to Be Scared? The interview and article got me thinking about my own femininity and habits of fear. Considering how petrified and humiliated I felt after that first Capoeira class, it’s a miracle that I’ll be celebrating my third year of training this June.
When asked what fearful people could do to become less afraid, Caroline Paul replies that you should look for chances to perform “microbravery,” because bravery, she points out, is not just something you have or don’t have, but rather a skill that needs to be cultivated. Playing Capoeira is my personal act of bravery. It is an excellent way for me to put fear in its place precisely because it scares the crap out of me.
When I was in 7th grade, my middle school band needed a singer to perform Norah Jone’s “Don’t Know Why” for an upcoming concert. At the tryout, I was so terrified you could barely hear my voice, and what listeners could hear had a strange vibrato thanks to my hands shaking violently as I held the mic. I hated myself so much for screwing up but I didn't let it stop me from trying again. In high school, I seized every opportunity to perform in school plays, debate team and choir, doing solo vocals and speeches for the entire school. But part of what made me a great performer was my perfectionism behind the scenes – I practiced my lines, speeches and vocals constantly, and would never dream of going on stage without having done so.
Playing in a Capoeira roda is not a rehearsed stage performance – it’s more like improv jazz. You have different techniques and scales you’ve practiced, but the music that you and your partner create together is entirely spontaneous. Now, imagine you just started practicing piano today and at the end of the lesson, your instructor asks you to perform a duet with him in front of an audience clapping along! If you’re like me, this might send you into a panic attack. But the only way for you to get over your nervousness would be to just get on with it, and do it again and again and again
Video footage from 2015 (my first year of training) of me and my husband playing Capoeira - I am around 6 months pregnant.
My impossibly high standards of perfection meant that I was terrified of playing Capoeira in front of others for a very long time. Almost three years later, I’m still hesitant to buy the game with someone new or when the music and the kicks are moving especially fast. But every class, every big event, things get a little easier. With practice I’m learning to cultivate the bravery that I’m constantly trying to grow in my elementary school students – the willingness to take risks and give it your best shot, even if the end result doesn’t look like a masterpiece. And I know that just when I’ve started to feel comfortable in one area, Capoeira will always have an entirely new skill (like playing the Berimbau and singing simultaneously) for me to do a mediocre job at in front of a lot of people. And I will do my best to stay calm, remind myself that I am learning, and try anyway.
What are some ways that you practice being brave?
For more information about my Capoeira group, please visit my husband’s website here.