Training for Transcendence: My Martial Arts Story
On Saturday, July 15, 2023, I had the opportunity to share my story (below) at the Asian Art Museum’s event “AntingAnting in Warrior Arts,” which is part of the Anting Anting Project, an “exploration of the history and impact of Filipino Martial Arts and its evolution disciplined by contemporary practitioners”, envisioned by Alleluia Panis and organized through Kularts.
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Growing up in a diverse family with a Filipino father, a mixed European mother, and adopted brothers from the Ukraine, I often grappled with questions of identity and belonging. These questions led me to dive deeper into my ancestry and seek a stronger connection with my Filipino roots.
But there was a significant event that played a crucial role in why I chose to train in martial arts. It happened when I was just 4 years old—a traumatic incident involving one of my Filipino aunts shook my entire family. I grew up with the belief that women who shared my size and appearance could be vulnerable to violence. I didn’t want fear to hinder my experiences in the world, so I made a commitment to learn how to defend myself.
Unfortunately, opportunities to learn martial arts were scarce where I grew up, especially for young girls at the time. So, I explored other activities like dancing and various sports until I reached college, where I finally had the chance to begin training. I spent a few years studying Kung Fu, but it wasn't until my junior year of college during a trip to the Philippines that I discovered Filipino Martial Arts. To my surprise, I had no idea that this martial art was part of my heritage. I wondered if Filipino Martial Arts could be a gateway to establish a stronger connection with my Filipino identity and, perhaps, fill in the missing pieces of myself, and make me feel safer. I wondered if Kali had the power to guide me back to a sense of home.
So I’m going to come back to this concept of home. But first, here’s what my journey looked like from the outside. After college, I moved to NYC, and sought out a place that taught Filipino Martial Arts. I ended up at a school that also taught Jeet Kune Do, or Bruce Lee’s philosophy, under the guidance of Guro Dan Inosanto.
Alongside my martial arts journey, I pursued a degree in social work, which deepened my understanding of the effects of historical trauma on the health of the Filipino American community. Witnessing the positive effects of exercise on mental health, I transitioned into personal training. While I had the opportunity to train in different Filipino martial art family systems, I became an instructor in Filipino Martial Arts and Jeet Kune Do under Guro Dan Inosanto and currently teach at Unlimited Martial Arts in NYC.
I’d love to tell you more about Guro Dan Inosanto and Jeet Kune Do (JKD), the martial arts philosophy originated by the legendary Bruce Lee. JKD is a philosophy that emphasizes simplicity and adaptability, encouraging practitioners to embrace practical techniques, develop their own unique style, and continually strive for self-improvement. Guro Dan Inosanto played a crucial role in the evolution of JKD alongside Bruce Lee, introducing elements like weapons training, footwork, and grappling techniques. Inosanto's collaboration with Lee allowed for the incorporation of diverse influences from over 30 different Filipino Martial Art instructors. By promoting training in multiple disciplines, JKD cultivates well-rounded fighters capable of adapting to various situations. As a woman of smaller stature, I was drawn to JKD because it offered me the mindset and skills to survive and escape any situation. My training extends beyond Kali to include boxing, Muay Thai kickboxing, Brazilian Jiu-jitsu, and various other arts.
Guro Dan Inosanto's influence has revolutionized the world of martial arts. He has inspired me and others to see the practice of martial arts as a lifelong journey of growth and exploration.
I have no doubt that this philosophy has shaped me. So I’m going to return to the question that led my inner journey: Can Kali or martial arts guide me back to a sense of home? But what exactly is home? Here I am, a second-generation individual living in the diaspora, raised in a multi-racial/ethnic family, straddling cultures, never feeling fully rooted in either. What defines home? Is it a physical place, a community, or an internal sense of belonging? Perhaps it encompasses all these aspects and more. And what does it mean to feel safe in the world? What does it mean to feel safe or at home in one’s body? These questions have always felt intertwined, though I wasn't sure exactly how.
During my trip to the Philippines in 2015 with Alleluia through Tribal Tour, an immersive experience of the arts in Mindanao, I experienced ipat, a community ritual — a container for healing through movement and music. However, I remember during the ceremony feeling numb and guarded. It was as if I had built up walls around myself, unaware of how deeply armored I had become. This eye-opening encounter forced me to confront some uncomfortable truths. I started questioning the influence of patriarchal values in the martial arts, which I had unwittingly absorbed and internalized.
While my intention to train was to feel safer and empowered, I had unknowingly adopted an unhealthy version of the warrior archetype. I had absorbed toxic masculinity, not just from the martial arts world but from our broader culture as well. I associated being a warrior with emotional detachment, aggression, and control — traits I believed would guarantee the feeling of permanent safety. The power I sought through the martial arts mirrored the oppression I aimed to escape from.
Anting anting in the martial arts has historically been these objects endowed with mystical power. But I believe an anting anting can be anything that draws or amplifies what’s already inside us. An idea, or a belief, a community, or a practice. The practice of martial arts has been that for me. It magnified my inherited beliefs about the world, history, my relationship to my body, to violence and power. But only by becoming conscious of the beliefs we’ve inherited, can we let go of what is no longer serving us, and choose how we want to be in the world. Martial arts became a transformative practice that led me to a truer version of myself.
What I came to realize is that true decolonization requires us to let go of these deeply ingrained beliefs, not just intellectually but within our bodies. Releasing these beliefs from our nervous systems can happen through grieving, shaking, moving, and emoting – this is the body’s way to heal trauma and restore resilience. This happens in nature: Just as a rabbit escapes from a stalking wolf, and then goes off somewhere to shake off that survival energy, we, too, possess the same ability to heal. We are still a part of Mother Nature, operating under the same rules. We have innate body wisdom to return back to balance.
What I also came to understand is masculine / yang energy itself is not inherently negative, but when taken to extremes or presented as the only truth, it can become imbalanced and unhealthy. But we need traits like assertiveness to set healthy boundaries, and leadership that is collaborative and empathetic. All of us have these yin and yang or masculine / feminine energies within us, but it’s up to us to heal and express healthy versions of both.
In 2020, I returned to the Philippines with Alleluia and Tribal Tour, and had a different experience of Ipat. I was totally open, and feeling all the feelings that had been backlogged in my body. I had finally put my armor down. On the last day of Ipat, the shaman invokes the spirit of the warrior by dancing the sagayan. I remember the shaman, sitting, singing over the helmet and carefully cleaning the kris sword preparing for the dance. And then Alleluia (or Manai as we call her) whispering in my ear, telling me that the sword was for me. I would dance the warrior dance that day. It’s hard to describe this one moment, that felt like the culmination of so many other moments, but I got a taste of transcendence… and of knowing deep in one’s body that everything is actually ok – and that the combination of me was enough, and that I had always been whole…home… and safe. Home in myself, home here with others, and perhaps held by something greater than all of us. I was actually never lost at all.
Community rituals like ipat, embedded in our ancestors' traditions, serve as spaces for healing or embodied decolonization. Through the opportunity to release stored up survival energies via grieving, shaking, laughing, movement, and music, and for me, that moment I had to dance the warrior dance – I rediscovered that my belonging extended beyond being solely Filipino, biracial, woman, or warrior; I was a part of the universal human experience. Though I am a student of martial arts and have had many instructors, Mother Nature has always been my Grandmaster. Patiently waiting for me to learn her most fundamental lesson: to trust and surrender back into the flow of life. I know now our warrior ancestors understood this deep wisdom; wisdom that we’re beginning to reclaim.
After ipat, I was told that women don’t normally dance the sagayan. I doubt that I’ll be the last. When I started martial arts 22 years ago, there weren’t many other girls either, but the warrior spirit is awakening in more and more folks. If you’re here today, then you too, perhaps, have heard its call.
In summary, martial arts can be an incredible journey of self-discovery — for me, it’s been and I’m sure will continue to be a transformative exploration of identity, heritage, and the balance of masculine and feminine energies. It's led me to question and rise above the patriarchal influences embedded in both the practice and our wider culture. By setting the intention to "come home," martial arts has become my personal anting anting—a sacred connection to my roots, to the wisdom of my own body, to my power within, and to a sense of belonging that transcends boundaries. And this is what I hope to bring to others through the Chrysalis Kali Collective, my training group for Filipina/x women, femme, and non-binary folk whose story might resonate with mine. Together, let us embody the warriors our ancestors dreamed of.