Anastasia Higginbotham has been an instructor for Prepare, IMPACT's New York chapter, since 2003. In that time she has taught classes for women and kids. Her essay "Sex Worth Fighting For" is featured in the new antology Yes Means Yes: Visions of Female Sexual Power and a World Without Rape, edited by Jessica Valenti and former IMPACT Boston instructor Jaclyn Friedman.
We interviewed Anastasia as part of the Yes Means Yes virtual tour. Click here to purchase Yes Means Yes from Porter Square books. A portion of the proceeds benefits IMPACT.
IMPACT Boston: In your essay you talk about being reluctant as you walked into your first IMPACT class. Can you tell us a bit more about what got you excited about the program and why you eventually became an instructor?
ANASTASIA: The second week they started showing us the reversals, the rape scenarios. As I watched the initial demonstration of those techniques, I suddenly felt deeply understood. It was all so validating, the answer to my prayers—or, in this case, my nightmares. They acted out the fears that had preoccupied my mind and interfered with my body since before adolescence. As soon as I got a chance to do the techniques myself, hold nothing back, I tapped into the pleasure of using my body that way. There was nothing twisted about it either—why shouldn’t I be happy to be released from the fears that had dogged me since childhood? That’s how I knew I could teach it. It wasn’t fear or hatred or even a fantasy of revenge that coursed through my veins as I fought. It was absolute joy.
IB: You say that teaching self-defense is "the only activism you've ever enjoyed"? What do you enjoy about it? What about it feels most like activism?
AH: All that I read and hear in the news and throughout history about women’s experience of rape – war time rape, rape in the Congo, everyday rape on the way home from school, etc. – provokes feelings in me that I cannot bear. I can’t meditate on those feelings and find peace. Writing about it doesn’t help; reading about it doesn’t help; the one time I volunteered to work with survivors, I felt much worse. Teaching self-defense is something constructive I can offer. We all have options for dealing with an attempted assault, in addition to compliance (a fine choice and one I would still use if need be). I want to stop rapists and other poorly behaved people from doing bad things to women. I can’t count on policy change or public education campaigns to do that for us. None of that does me or any woman a damn bit of good if we’re on our backs with our arms pinned above our heads. What I trust is a fine mental game, a heel-palm, eye strike, rear elbow, knee to the head. In the absence of a world without rape, that’s what I want for women. That’s the kind of impact I want to have as a feminist. That’s where I find solace for the unbearable situations women around the world find themselves facing.
IB: As with many IMPACT classes, your instructor asked you to think about the important question, "What is worth fighting for?" and in your essay you compellingly articulate why sex is high on that list for you. Is this something you knew going into the class or did you discover it over the course of the program? What are some things that feminist self-defense instructors can do to help people realize what for them is worth fighting for?
AH: The fights bring it out of you—what’s worth fighting for. I didn’t know sex would be high on my list. I only noticed after taking the course that I finally felt free in bed with a man (someone who had more upper body strength than me and more cultural support for using it to get what he wants). I am prepared to make a man leave my house, or his, if the sex has turned ugly and violent—which it no longer does, because that’s the whole point of a self-defense education. Better instincts lead to better choices, better lovers, better love affairs. To get to those things worth fighting for – the real deep, down things – your instructors have to be good. They have to listen to you from the moment you walk in the room. They have to notice when you get scared, when you check out, what makes you laugh, what makes you mad, what makes you proud. And they have to create challenges for you that are specific and that speak to your heart and call you out and are worth the effort you put into them as a student.
IB: Something we found especially interesting in your essay was the way that IMPACT's full-force fighting makes it possible for you to feel good about sex. Can you talk more about the changes that happened for you and how the physical, visceral, self-protective act of fighting was so effective for you?
IMPACT made me feel good about everything essential in my life, because ultimately the fight comes down to: How much do you love your life? How good do you want it to be? There’s a moment in the movie Thelma & Louise when Thelma says, “I feel awake. I don’t remember ever feeling this awake.” And there is a cue we use at the start of a reversal when the fighter, who begins the fight pinned and with her eyes closed, opens them at the cue from the coach and says out loud, “I’m awake.” It’s the same thing Thelma is getting at. The veil has been lifted. Like Thelma, she now knows where she stands, what she stands to lose and gain. Thelma goes on to say, “Somethin’s crossed over in me and…I can’t go back.” That’s common for women who complete this training too, including me. Once I exhausted myself in the act of meeting my worst nightmare, I was free to roll around with the love of my life in a much different way too. It affects everything worthwhile—not just sex. For example, I didn’t trust that I would be a good parent until after I learned to fight. Once I knew I could model responsible power and authority, once I knew I could exemplify calm, confident boundaries, I knew I would be worthy of a child’s trust—which, you know, they have no choice but to trust you.
IB: A lot of activist work to prevent rape has focused on the importance of shifting the responsibility for rape onto the perpetrator and focusing our social change efforts on perpetration instead of victims and potential victims. As important as that is, can you talk about how self-defense training can be part of that strategy or complement it?
AH: A solid self-defense education offers us power to prevent violence. The best fight is no fight at all. So if you’re really good, you maneuver to create situations where you are not likely to face an assault. On the rare occasion that you do, you’ve got some training in how to deal in the moment, to thwart the attempt. The result is not only fewer victims, but fewer perpetrators. Self-defense is an excellent way to insist and ensure that more perpetrators fail in their attempts to commit crimes against women. It’s not revenge, though it can feel like justice. At its core, it’s violence prevention.
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