Rage As Prayer
I started taking Krav Maga classes three years ago during the early stages of my divorce. My first session was a women’s self-defense class I attended with my mom. We simulated attacks on each other—learning how to break free from choke holds against a wall. We giggled the entire time, sweaty and giddy, pretending to strangle and fight one another off. My mom was content with that one-time experience, but I went back the next week—and I’ve never stopped.
Hitting and kicking pads as hard as I could became unexpectedly therapeutic during such a turbulent time in my life. Each strike was a physical release of pent-up frustration—a way to move through the unrelenting stress-response cycles I was caught in at the time. Every hit I received gave me the chance to check in: Am I okay? Do I need to say “enough”? Can I stand stronger for the next blow? For once, I wasn’t expected to be polite or “take the high road.” I was encouraged to stop apologizing, to take up space, to fight back when boundaries were crossed. I was reminded, again and again, that my comfort is not something to sacrifice for someone else’s gain.
Over time, Krav Maga became a kind of sanctuary—a space where respect is essential but pleasantries and social niceties fall away. In this community, rage and violence are not shameful reactions to fear, but deep instincts, human responses, which are safely and constructively explored. We train with wild intensity and radical care. You won’t find aggression without consent here. Instead, you’ll meet some of the kindest, most grounded people—folks who have learned how to be both fierce and mindful simultaneously.
On its surface, Krav Maga seems like a brutal system designed to help you do real damage to anyone trying to hurt you. And yes, that is, indeed, part of its methodology. But underneath the toughness lies something brilliant: a practical system for risk assessment, de-escalation tactics, and embodied awareness. I began to see that I wasn’t just learning how to fight—I was learning how to stay calm and present in moments of threat. I was learning how to feel safe in my body.
In this system, fighting started to feel less like a contrariety to yoga, and more like a complementary practice. Both are physical gateways to nervous system attunement. Both ask us to listen to our bodies and move with intention. Both offer tools to self-regulate, even in discomfort.
Look, I know Krav Maga isn’t for everyone. I leave class with bruises all of the time. Also, I once had to practice touching someone’s inner eye for eye-gouges—deeply unsettling (blech!). But—dare I say—it might be for more people than you’d think. If you're even a little curious… if watching the movie Fight Club stirs something strangely electric in you… I say: try a class. Just see how it feels.
For context: I’m 100 pounds soaking wet, small-boned, and of lithe musculature. The photo below is from my Level 2 test, simulating defending an attack from a man three times my size. But I didn’t start there. I started in a women-centered class, designed to be free and clear from toxic masculinity. During that first year, I cried in my car almost every night after class. I felt small, weak, and broke even in a room full of women. I hated it—but I kept going back. I wanted to feel strong, to learn to stand up for and take care of myself.
These days, I’m buying boxing gloves and shin guards, preparing to spar in higher-level classes—with both sweaty men and women.
Am I nervous? Absolutely.
Do I feel ready for the next level? Not really.
Do I feel like a bar-fighting badass who can take down a giant? Ha—probably not.
(And I don’t even look cool throwing an elbow to my assailant! - please note my Fraggle Rock face in the photo below)
Here’s what I do feel:
A steadiness in my stance.
A quiet relief in my gut.
A confidence in my ability to stretch beyond my comfort zone and into something new.
Krav Maga has reminded me that anger, fear, frustration, and pain aren’t signs of weakness nor are they feelings to shy away from. They’re signals—calls to action from deep within the body. When we learn to honor them, rather than suppress them, we find our power.
How will you hone the skills to fight for your own safety, your equanimity, your sense of self?
Fraggle Rock-faced Elbow #3 from a choke-from-the-side defense
*Krave Maga ATX offers a complimentary first class. I highly recommend the Women’s Self Defense classes on Thursday nights as a great entry point for cis and trans women as well as non-binary folk who feel comfortable in a women-centric environment. Any Krav Maga Level 1 class is also super accessible, well-staffed (I’ve never had a bad teacher), and welcoming for new-comers. I hope you can try a class soon and maybe I’ll see ya there :)
