Shades of White

PROLOGUE

In third grade, I had to join a jiu-jitsu school after doctors warned me that my next asthma attack could take me if I did not strengthen my lungs. Uptown Jiu-jitsu was a few blocks from my school, making it a natural fit. After a month, I enjoyed jiu-jitsu so much that I wanted to grapple every day, yearning for more time than the twice-weekly kid’s classes offered.

On a Saturday afternoon, I was running errands with my mom in Chinatown when we came across an oversized sail of jewel tones. “Look! A jiu-jitsu flag!” I shouted with excitement. The unmistakable combination of the vibrant blue and deep green colors—borrowed from the

Brazilian flag1—was billowing from a second-floor window in the onshore winds, calling me in.

A short, muscular Japanese man was sweeping the sidewalks. He looked up, noticing my enthusiasm. I explained that we had the same flag at my dojo.

“Oh yeah? Where you train?” he asked in his thick pidgin accent.

“Uptown,” I explained. He knew Uptown. He, too, had a jiu-jitsu school.

“Wanna come in someday and try us out? I don’t charge fo’ try-out. You gonna like it, the reigning champion trains here, you know!?”

1 The form of jiu-jitsu originated from in the 1920s, after Brazilian was taught traditional Kodokan by a traveling Japanese judoka, . Carlos refined the Japanese judoka to fit smaller, lighter persons, based on utilizing one’s leverage best. It focuses on the skill of controlling one's opponent, gaining a dominant position, and using several techniques to force them into submission via joint locks or chokeholds. Brazilian Jiu-jitsu, or BJJ, became a separate, defined through the innovations, practices, and adaptation of Carlos Gracie’s sons, including Carlos Jr. and Helio. Today, an intricate governing body, the IBJJF, outlines its rules for uniform, global applications. With the end of the sales pitch, his walis-tingting broom finally stopped. He sized me up, one

last time. We promised to come back and went on with our Saturday, disappearing into

Chinatown’s heady smell.

SHADES OF WHITE2

It was months later that I returned to that Merchant Street spot. By then, I was knee-deep in jiu-

jitsu, going to every tournament. I looked for the jewel tones, downwind from the apothecary

window with the rat and snake skeletons, and mounds of dried-up herbs of unknown origin,

promising to bring long life. The sensei remembered my name as if we were old friends. I

stayed for the practice and returned weekly to train.

A few months later, my Uptown coach, Jeff Furuta3, called me into his office after practice and

reprimanded me for my “breach of loyalty.” He sternly announced that I could have been

“kicked out” of the school for going to another school. He claimed it was the cornerstone of

Japanese culture to stay loyal. His talk caught me off , his words came without a

precedent. I heard what he said but didn't understand a word of his. Breach of loyalty? Me? I

was loyalty. Every ounce of my body craved and worshipped the sport—how could I be called a

traitor, an unfaithful apostate?

His explanation was curt and swift, hardly an explanation at all, more like an announcement that

I “wouldn’t understand it,” because I was not Japanese. In the end, he decided to pardon me,

only because I went to another outfit, not some unaffiliated franchise.

2 Despite popular belief, “white” is not a color. It is the lack of color. White often—and aptly—signifies innocence, a clean slate, as is the case with novices in jiu-jitsu, who always start with white belts. “White” also commonly refers to Caucasian people. In my story, I started as a Caucasian kid with a white belt, who had no jiu-jitsu experience, no preconceived notions. Both meanings of the color “white” will come into focus during the story. 3 Jeff Furuta was the sensei, the owner of Uptown Gracie Jiu-jitsu.

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A couple of months later, I entered the Triple Crown Championship under the auspices of both

schools. When my Uptown teacher found out, he unleashed a rant about the embarrassment I

had caused by competing under another school’s flag. He said no one has ever humiliated him

as I had done. He did not expect me to understand it—pointing it out for the second time—

because I was not Japanese. It became clear to him, at any rate, that there was no place for

someone like me in their school. With an irretrievable decision wrapped in swift words, Jeff

kicked me out of Uptown.

Kicked. Out. I wasn't even ten years old.

Barred. Expelled. Confused and hurt. I couldn't tell what I did wrong. I was either white, not

Japanese, or too in love with the sport. None are a crime and none should be held against a

nine-year-old.

What was the genesis of these unwritten rules of loyalty? Years later, I found out that these

rules date back to the original Relson Main Academy4. Prior to 2004, anyone who practiced this

type of martial arts learned it from Relson himself, at his academy. Members considered

themselves an Ohana5, a distinction that Relson often incorporates into his speeches6. These

"brothers" are bound together by the salt and stain of their sweat, running deeper than blood.

New members learn the importance of imprinting and memorializing our shared experiences during their initiation. After receiving their belt from the sensei of the school, the instructor tells them to wash the new belt to cleanse it of the factory’s chemicals. The belt will never be washed again. It will carry every drop of sweat we burn, every tear we shed, every drop of

4 Relson Gracie is the son of Helio Gracie, who was Carlos Gracie’s son. Grandmaster Helio was the one who put together all of the Gracie brothers’ moves and techniques and unified it into a cohesive and unique branch of martial arts. He refined the sport to take advantage of leverage, so younger/lighter people can successfully defend themselves against larger, older opponents. 5 Ohana means “family” in Hawaiian 6 To this day, the 69-year-old Relson Gracie travels between his jiu-jitsu franchises frequently, giving lessons and speeches to the schools.

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blood it wicks away—ours and our opponents’—during our grappling and tournaments. It is the

ultimate communal bond that represents our hard work and our commitment.

Sensei promote only after the students master the skills that represent the higher belt color7.

Children start with white belts and inch their way up to green. Novice adults also start with a white belt and work toward the ultimate, red belt8. To demonstrate readiness for the next level,

students enter competitions, where they can earn swords for placing in the top three of their

weight/age division, or the coveted belt for being the best child or adult, regardless of age and

weight. This entire promotion-system centers on an intimate and rather subjective assessment

process, that takes a long time. I became quite attached to my white-cum-beige9 belt that

stayed with me through my first victories, first medals, and swords. Others, however, do not fare

so well with the lack of objective assessments, and therein lies the problem.

The sport was predominantly pursued by male practitioners in the past,10 saturated with grown

men who show up after work—donning a gi11—ready to spar with other grown men until one taps the other one out. It is a friendly sport pursued for dear life. When some of the men rise to the top, earning higher belts than the rest12, a peculiar thought crosses their mind: a sense of

superiority will overcome them. They are better than the rest. They know more. They fight

7 Unlike with karate—where instructors hand out belts after completing each “level” of instructions—jiu-jitsu belts must be earned. 8 Red belts are reserved "for those whose influence and fame takes them to the pinnacle of art,” according to the Gracie brothers. [Gracie, Renzo and Royler (2001). Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu: Theory and Technique. Invisible Cities Press Llc. p. 304. ISBN 1-931229-08-2.] If a student received his or her black belt at the age of 19—which, in itself, is a truly exceptional accomplishment—the earliest they could expect to receive a ninth degree red belt would be at the age of 67. The 10th degree was given only to the pioneers of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and the Gracie brothers: Carlos, Oswaldo, George, Gaston, and Helio. The highest-ranking living practitioners are 9th-degree red belts, such as Relson Gracie, Helio Gracie’s son, as there are no living 10th-degree red belts today. 9 Since I started at Uptown, then transferred to Waterfront—essentially starting this observation period all over— by the time I got promoted up from my white belt, my white belt was beige, a lighter shade of brown. 10 Women are slowly entering the ranks, but the sport is predominantly male-driven, to this day. 11 The gi is the official outfit that jiu-jitsu practitioners wear, woven in white, cotton, in the pattern of a wrap-shirt top with the loose-fitting, drawstring pants. Relson Gracie’s schools only allow a white gi, but other schools often use blue or black gi for men, and pink gi for women, in addition to the traditional white gi. 12 Brown or black belts are typically at the top of the individual jiu-jitsu franchise schools.

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smarter and harder. They are on top. They should be in charge. It is precisely at this juncture

that a well-run school—a tight-knit family—will start to unravel.

That is precisely what happened in 2004. Enough men climbed to the top to feel that they

should not subjugate to a leader who did not hold the NAGA13 belt title or had less swords to

show. Suddenly, in a strange paradox, the same sweat, tears and blood—that previously bound the dojo together—pitted the principles of loyalty, family and brotherhood against the ego of the titleholder. And the ego won, every time.

Side schools branched off the Gracie Main Academy, one at a time. As the sport gained

nationwide traction, new jiu-jitsu schools popped up at ferocious rates. The men who were once

“brothers” became competitors, seemingly overnight14. There were strict divisions between

schools, as bad blood turned former friends into foes across town. Many school owners saw

their students as possessions. It became an unwritten rule that a student committed to one

academy, and one academy only.15,16

13 NAGA stands for the North American Grappling Association, the organizing association behind the preeminent international jiu-jitsu competition. 14 As a growing group of new practitioners reached the black belt ranks, a massive movement began toward branching off into new schools, lead by the newly minted black belts. Following his world championship victory in December of 2004, Kendall Goo began training with , Relson Gracie’s younger brother, for the Dynamite Fight in Japan. Despite years of training and a myriad of accolades, Kendall was only a brown belt. Getting promoted to black belt is a rare occasion in Gracie jiu-jitsu, and only Relson can promote high-ranked students. Following Royce’s victory in Japan, Royce personally promoted Kendall to black belt, without asking for permission or notifying Relson. Relson was offended that Royce would go over his head to promote Kendall, and Royce was offended that he would need permission to promote someone. Word quickly spread of Kendall’s promotion, and people had to take sides. When tensions rose to a climax, Royce split off from Relson and created his own Gracie school. Similarly, When Joe Hurst, one of Relson’s students, started training with in Brazil, Relson was angered by Joe’s lack of loyalty. Hurst was also promoted from brown belt to black belt without getting permission from Relson. Relson refused to acknowledge Joe’s promotion. Joe felt that he no longer needed Relson’s guidance and decided to start his own school. A series of altercations on social media ensued. Joe later promoted other brown belts to black belts, all of whom also went unrecognized by Relson 15 Even after moving to a new state, some people will still ask Relson for permission before joining a new academy. 16 Today, there are a lot of unwritten rules in jiu-jitsu culture. One must bow before stepping on and off the mat; bow to a photo of the “Holy Triniti,” Father Hélio Gracie, Son Relson Gracie, and the school’s sensei at the start and end of each class; one must maintain a stern face and cross his or her arms with the right hand being tucked

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How do these rules become common knowledge? Through oral history—passing down urban

legends—and learning from one’s own mistakes. Students can be “kicked out” without the

students’ full understanding of what crimes they committed, and top-belts leave their brothers so

they can become kings of their own hills. The drama goes hand-in-hand with the men of the

school.

It took me a considerable amount of time to realize that the quintessential loyalty that Jeff Furuta

talked about did not come from his Japanese culture17. I did not fail the sport because I was white. My crime was loyalty. I was loyal to the sport and wanted to pursue it daily, 365. What I lacked was the lens of an alpha male: a person who sees and understands his counterpart’s ego. Jeff was not offended by my insatiable appetite for jiu-jitsu. I was not giving away secret moves—there were no secret moves. He was hurt because I sought out the tutelage of another expert. I was a greenhorn, a novice. My belt was white.

EPILOGUE

A few short years later, Jeff Furuta sold Uptown to Shane Agena, the new top-dog in town. Jeff

left his student, their “secret moves,” their loyalty, the Ohana, and the brothers behind. After all

these years, I am still at Waterfront, surrounded by family, who have been with me through thick

and thin, through trying times.

Over the years, I came closer to understanding the intricately woven tapestry of jiu-jitsu

culture. My Uptown scar has faded, but every once in a while, I look at the young groms in the

kids’ class I teach, holding on to every word I say, clinging onto me—their idol—and I realize: I

behind the left when taking photos; upon promoting someone to a higher belt, jiu-jitsu instructors must pull the belt out from their gi jacket, so their love, sweat, and soul goes with the student’s new belt. While these rules are entirely unwritten, they are presumed to be understood, and violating them is perceived as an insult. 17 Nor did my crime stem from the Japanese background of jiu-jitsu. Jiu-jitsu’s Japanese connection stops with its geographic origins. The did not incorporate any Asian cultural phenomenon into the sport of jiu- jitsu.

6 hold a lot of power. Every word I say is a sword. I better watch my every move, I better not cut down an innocent soul. I've become the historian. It is my job to teach them the unwritten rules; they should not have to stand a trial by fire because their belt is white and they should never, ever hear a reference to any color in the same sentence with brotherhood.

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