Body

by Write(H)ers blogger, Sarah Van Name

I consider myself a feminist. I’ll say it loud and proud. But I do plenty of things in my daily life that aren’t particularly feminist at all – like using the word “bitch,” or apologizing even when I know it isn’t my fault, or becoming incredibly invested in the current season of The Bachelor. One of the most consistently un-feminist things I do, though, is watch UFC.

For those of you who don’t know, UFC is short for Ultimate Fighting Championship. It’s a mixed martial arts (MMA) league which airs a new set of live fights on TV every few weeks or every month. Like in boxing, there are different weight classes, and like in old ‘90s professional wrestling, there are heroes and villains, old faces and new. It’s incredibly dramatic, hyper-masculine, and widely viewed.

It’s also pretty damn sexist. Ring girls, who are held to strict weight and appearance restrictions, prance around the edge of the stage before each round. All the announcers, all the fighters, and almost all the referees and judges are men. (Although the one female referee, Kim Winslow, is great.) Dana White, president of the UFC – who Jezebel recently and correctly referred to as an “anthropomorphized nurse shark” – is insanely misogynistic. When UFC bought out its competitor, Strikeforce, it neglected to pick up the women’s section of the organization, leaving female fighters out in the cold. In 2011, Dana White said that he would never allow women to fight in the UFC.

There are a lot of great things about UFC, too. Mixed martial arts are fascinating to watch if you know even a little about what’s going on, and the fighters who step into the octagon have real skill and often incredible life stories. Unlike what people think, most of the fights don’t end in blood, and most of the fighters are respectful and dedicated athletes. So I watch UFC, and I enjoy it. I even went to a live event in Las Vegas over Christmas break. But I can’t help but feel a nagging guilt that, much more than wearing high heels or not being assertive, I am participating in an actively anti-feminist act.

Until recently.

Until this past Saturday, February 23, to be precise. Because this past Saturday was the first UFC women’s fight, between Ronda “Rowdy” Rousey and Liz “Girl-Rilla” Carmouche.

Let me take a moment to explain to you the kind of unmitigated badasses these women are. Ronda Rousey, 26, has been to two Olympics for judo, competing as a seventeen-year-old in 2004 and becoming the first American woman to win a gold medal in judo in 2008. In 2010, she made her mixed martial arts debut, and started fighting for Strikeforce in 2011. She has defeated all of her opponents by armbar in the first round – an insanely impressive feat. This past November, she became the first woman to sign with the UFC.

Liz “Girl-Rilla” Carmouche, 29, spent five years as a Marine, completing three tours in the Middle East before starting mixed martial arts in Strikeforce in 2010. With a record of 7-3, she is a more than formidable opponent. Oh – and she’s openly lesbian. That makes her the first openly gay fighter in the UFC, male or female (and considering the number of male fighters that have passed through the UFC, there’s no chance that all of them are straight). Here and here are a few visual aids to show you who we’re talking about. In both, Rousey’s on the left, Carmouche on the right.

Ronda Rousey and Liz Carmouche fought on Saturday night, and Rousey emerged victorious with her signature armbar, securing her position as the UFC Women’s Bantamweight Champion. The very existence of the fight would have been awesome on its own, no matter who won, but it wasn’t just historically significant – it was also a good fight, in every sense the word is normally used in the UFC. It was exciting and competitive, and it ended relatively quickly with an exhilerating finish. And it sold out: 15,525 people showed up to watch Rousey and Carmouche duke it out.

Arguably, the UFC is still an inherently sexist organization; it is still dominated by men, as fighters and viewers, and probably will be forever. Some people might even argue that the commercialization of live violence in and of itself bolsters the strength of patriarchy, regardless of the genders of the competitors, given the extent to which violence is entwined with being a “real man” in our world. Those are valid opinions. When my friends crinkle their noses in disgust when I talk about UFC, I tell them I understand.

That said, though, I can’t help but be thrilled that female fighters will now be fighting in the UFC. Rousey, Carmouche, and the women who follow them in the months to come are breaking into a world that used to be reserved exclusively for men. They’re incredible athletes following their dreams and passions. They’re taking on characteristics that are considered unattractive in women – strength, aggressiveness, even brutality – and using them unapologetically to advance in their careers. Even if neither can escape the usual objectification of women in the public eye, they’re not trying to make their bodies the skinny, smooth ideal that every man supposedly desires. They want to be strong. And they are.

You can argue that UFC is symptomatic of our society’s fascination with and glorification of male violence, and intensely problematic. You might not be wrong. But I can’t wait to see more of what Rousey, Carmouche, and emerging female fighters have to offer. Next time there are two women fighting in the UFC, I’ll be watching – and this time, I won’t feel like such a bad feminist after all.