The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

(Excerpted from “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening“, Robert Frost)

I’m going to take a wild guess here and say that not many of you have become hypothermic while stranded in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere. (Just for the record, I haven’t, either.) If you ever do find yourself in this situation, just remember one thing: don’t go to sleep. When your body temperature drops below a certain level, and you begin to feel tired and heavy all over, and all you want to do is close your eyes and sink your head into that soft, fluffy pillow of snow…that’s when sleep means certain death.

To relax is to put yourself in the ultimate danger, here. Compliance is fatal. And yet…it’s so easy. It’s so much easier to close your eyes and let yourself fade away into rest—and oblivion—than to keep struggling, if not with eyes wide open then from one blink to the next. Everything is telling you to board the sweet, cotton candy cloud of dreams: your eyelids, falling like blinds; the giant pillow, waiting underneath; the drifting flakes, promising to cover you in a perfect quilt; your body, begging for relief. But then what?

Though slightly dramatic as far as extended metaphors go, sometimes I feel like that 2nd-stage hypothermic wanderer. Only instead of my body wanting to shut down and rest, it’s my mind and personality.

I’ve been thinking about this lately, especially during instances when the following monologue runs through my head: “Okay, so should I ‘play feminist’ and say something here, or just let it go? Do I want to ruin the fun? Will it even make a difference? Is it really that big of a deal? Oh who cares, whatever!”

Basically, I’ve found, ignorance is bliss. Apathy is peace. Indifference is tranquility, and obliviousness is happiness.

Sleeping, not thinking, would mean being able to appreciate the humour in a joke instead of being annoyed by its premise; able to be chill/cool/relaxed/generic instead of worked up and politicized; able to play along/get along/sing along without feeling like an ever-so-slightly hypocritical sell-out. Sleeping (or is it dreaming?) would mean being able to laugh at everything my friends find funny, and like/respect my capoeira teachers without doubts, and watch a certain new Pixar film without feeling the need to roll my eyes at every gender stereotype along the way, and just enjoy the cuteness.

When you’re asleep, you don’t feel angry, indignant, incensed, or infuriated. When you don’t think or don’t care, you’re not bothered by injustice; you can read the news with cool, desensitized nonchalance; and the full weight of a systemic, worldwide, fundamental, political, religious, societal, deep-rooted undermining, suppressing, assault, and attack on you and/or yours in all his slightest and heaviest forms leaves you well undisturbed.

But at the same time, lest we forget…sleep is death. And that storm will still come to bear down on you, in some way or form, no matter how much you ignore or disregard it.

I once read a quote that began, “Finding feminism is like discovering the Matrix”*—and it is spot on. Who do you think leads happier lives in the movie, those inside the Matrix or those outside of it? But who, after knowing, goes back? Who would purposely commit mental and intellectual, and possibly ethical, suicide?

So yes, sleep would be nice. And, as I said, easy.  (Because what’s easier than default?)  But ignorance and apathy are two things I hate/fear probably just as much as, if not more than, misogyny and other types of discrimination. So, let’s just say…it’s a good thing I’m used to all-nighters.

*“Finding feminism is like discovering the Matrix. You can’t believe you didn’t notice all this stuff, you can’t believe no one told you how fucked up things are. You feel angry for knowing, angry for having not known. It’s such a harsh transition to make. You don’t just gently start to pick up on misogyny here and there. Once the floodgates are open you are smacked relentlessly with realization after realization. It can be devastating and it can feel like the only way not to drown is to find a really big crew and a really big boat, put your head down—and paddle.” -Julia Gonzalves

“There is only one thing a philosopher can be relied upon to do, and that is to contradict other philosophers.”

Capoeira is like philosophy. And I don’t mean it’s like a philosophy, as in “the philosophy of capoeira”. Capoeira is like the entire field of philosophy—at least when it comes to the discussions.

It struck me shortly after I came back home and finally broke it to my capoeira group (read: teachers) that I’d been training with another group in France. (I’d kept it a secret during all of last year…slightly long story there. But I digress.) What I then found amusing (as well as not so amusing) about the whole thing was how each side of the pond so readily disdained the other, even though I love and esteem both. And they all have their not-unreasonable explanations, including for why they’re each superior to a separate third group—who, I have no doubt, considers itself better than my two!

As one of my teachers pointed out, “…and it’s all opinion anyway! Maybe you think this capoeira group is better, but I think that capoeira group is better. Everyone has their own preference.” Most capoeiristas recognize this, yet many capoeira groups still claim, for one reason or another, to be the best (or at least pretty darn up there). It’s funny because with every capoeira group touting their own superiority, their claims kind of all cancel each other out, and so in the end it comes right back down to personal opinion anyway. After all, at least when it comes to capoeira style and capoeira philosophy, nobody can say!

Similarly, about a week later, I got into a conversation about fights breaking out in capoeira, and capoeiristas who “play” really to fight other group’s capoeiristas, and ended up saying something like, “It’s not capoeira!” (Since “just dancing” isn’t capoeira, so it’s okay to say “just fighting” isn’t capoeira either, right?) After I said that though, another one of my capoeira teachers ended it with the inevitable line: “But what is capoeira? Nobody can say.”

And therein lies the crux of the whole thing. Capoeira reminds me of philosophy because no matter how much capoeiristas—like philosophers—talk and discuss and debate and rationalize their respective arguments, you can almost never come to any ultimate conclusion because—who can say?! What can be proven?? No one capoeirista has enough authority or knowledge to decide for all, and for better or worse, Newton concentrated his efforts on gravity rather than capoeira when making his laws.

I think one of my friends from first-year put it best (paraphrased from memory): “The thing about philosophy [or in our case, capoeira] is that you can spend hours and hours talking and going through arguments and making your points, but in the end none of it matters because nobody can prove any of it anyway!”

Although that doesn’t quite work, either (clearly it matters some, or this blog wouldn’t exist!), I just found the irony or circularness (hence “roda”) of it all amusing. So sue me!

Picture source (modified):
http://s272.photobucket.com/albums/jj161/masterplats3/

Hi everyone! Joaninha has been exhausted with work and training for the past few weeks (she slept for 15 hours last Saturday), not to mention catching up with all her Canadian friends, and apologizes dearly for having unintentionally lead you on regarding her return! I’m her hitherto unknown alter-ego, A. B. Ghinner, and she sent me to write a guest post in her absence.

Don’t tell her I told, but she’s been complaining about her performance in the roda lately, so I’m writing a post to help with that! Now, I don’t know that much about capoeira rodas, but the point is to maintain the circle, right? In that case, she’s actually pretty good! In fact, I’ve put together this fabulous guide for you guys on how to rock the roda, based on my observations of her alone. You’re sure to learn tons from it—and no need to thank me!

—

A. B. Ghinner’s 10-Step Guide to Rocking the Capoeira Roda

1. Watch the games, clap to the music, and sing along to the songs.

2. Be polite and “let” people go in front of you.

3. Shift your weight from foot to foot. Constantly.

4. Create a mental flowchart of conditions for buying in, and don’t even think of deviating from it.

Joaninha’s personal favourite (She’ll love how attentive I’ve been!): kid: no ==> much higher belt: no ==> floreio-happy: no ==> trains everyday with: no ==> excessively aggressive: no ==> played already in last or 2+ games: no ==> involves buying out higher belt: no ==> remaining capoeiristas: maybe, depends, we’ll see)

5. Mentally organize every other capoeirista present into order of preference for playing against.

6. Hover on the edge of the roda, preferably directly behind one or more large, shirtless, sweating men whose eye-levels you are literally below.

7. Attempt to put every capoeirista with a higher belt between you and the bateria.

8. Failing that, continually take one step towards and two steps back from the bateria/pé do berimbau. Reverse direction when you reach the other side.

9. As a last resort, practice the cha-cha or salsa steps right at the entrance to the roda.

10. Do not, under any circumstances, actually go into the roda and play.

—

Well, that’s it! Easy, right? You could get through a roda like that blind-folded! Although I have to admit, she only does about half of those things, but I hope my own ideas will work just as well! Be sure to let her know if they do; I’m sure she’d be so pleased. It was great meeting you guys, and I’ll see you around!

Picture source:
http://carfwebnet.blogspot.com/2004/12/rehabilitation-in-crisis.html

I have a confession. As a feminist, I don’t always do my “duty”. In fact, when it comes to speaking out against things like sexism, homophobicism (a term I made up about 1 second ago, to differentiate between people who just use seemingly homophobic language and people who are actually, definitively, homophobic), and racism, a lot of times I downright fail as someone who allegedly stands for equality.

Like…if a cool friend makes rape jokes (please note the oxymoron) and I don’t say anything, or laugh. Or…if a great capoeira teacher says something sexist and I don’t say anything, or smile. And especially…if a relative gives mortifyingly old-fashioned sexist—or racist—”life advice” and I smile and nod along politely.

In feminist terminology, there’s an expression that goes, “Not my Nigel“. This term refers to the attitudes of women who don’t believe that sexism or misogyny is systematic in society, or that while other men might be sexist or misogynistic, the men in their own lives never are, or “don’t mean it that way”. I.e., “Not my Nigel! He’d never think/do/say that!”

What do you do, though, when it is “your Nigel”, and you know it? How do you react when those you’ve come to like, admire, or deeply respect turn around and disappoint you—sometimes continually—in these little yet ultimately fundamental ways? How do you reconcile the jarring disjoint between your valuing these people in your life, and your values?

Of course, the most straightforward way to solve this dilemna is to just cut these people out of your life completely. If you have nothing to do with them, then you don’t have to be bothered by what they say or do, right? But obviously, “easier said than done” is a major understatement here, especially when it comes to capoeira. It’s not as if you can just leave a class or quit a capoeira group every time a sexist capoeira teacher comes along, nor should you. At the same time, how do you maintain the same respect for, and thus truly effectively learn from, someone whose values you question?

As for dropping friends, I think a close one of mine summed it up best when she said, to paraphrase, “If I were to stop being friends with every guy friend who was a jerk to a girl, I wouldn’t have any guy friends at all.” Wait! Before the comments section explodes, this is of course not 100% true, and I apologize for the extreme generalization. I would have a few guy friends left, and at the same time I might lose a few girl friends, too. However, I hope the point got across. Your friends are your friends, and if you really value them as such, it’s neither easy nor desirable to break ties with them over a verbal instance of bad judgement or two (…or five…or ten…).

Then there’s always confrontation, but when was the last time someone you knew thought it was a good idea to pipe up and go, “Excuse me, Mestre (/Professor/Instrutor/Contra-mestre), but with all due respect, don’t you think what you just said was a little bit—or very—sexist?” Actually…has that ever been done before? How might they react? Would they listen to students’ concerns and be more considerate in the future (or maybe even, against all odds, rethink their views); completely ignore the criticism; or brazenly (or humbly) plead a claim to cultural immunity?

As for friends…pretty much the only thing that happens if you say something is you or all your future related comments lose credibility due to “the feminist” in you. (Because clearly, that detracts from you being a person who just believes in that mystical equality stuff.)

Most people probably opt for one last option: ignorance is bliss! “I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear that.” Or are we just up that old Egyptian river*, lacking paddles and all?

It’s a conundrum for sure, and unfortunately, one that I run into more often than normal in capoeira, perhaps due to the nature of the art and its roots. Come to think of it…I think for me, this dilemna does only exist to such an extent in capoeira. All non-capoeirista sexism suspects are cut. (Hey, you! Sexist? Hate women? Join capoeira, and get out of the dog house free! Sign up today!)

I particularly remember a batizado in Italy, which was an awesome bonding experience, but also…well, let’s just say that after some particularly charming pre-party dinner conversation, it’s a good thing capoeiristas love caipirinhas, because—wait, no, I could’ve downed a bottle of pure cachaça after that. (As things were, a Long Island Iced Tea had to suffice. It was either that, or not speak to any of my guy friends for the rest of the night.)

Returning to the issue itself, for me it’s actually part of a larger phenomenon in capoeira, that I’ll be writing about in a near-future, if not the next, post. (Teaser: “The Hidden Dark Side of Capoeira” *dun DuN DUN!*) For now, we’ll just have to keep looking for our paddles—because the only other options are to ride with it…or bail.

*“deNile”

Picture source:
http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=91669814

Dear readers,

Please accept my profuse apologies for my recent bout of being MIA! Right after my exams I kind of crashed in exhaustion/relief, and then had approximately 1 day before yet one more batizado, from which I think I’m still recovering .

As well, something I kind of failed to mention thus far is that I’ve actually been studying on exchange in France all this year…which explains all the travelling I’ve been able to do! And as I type right now, I’m waiting for my landlord to come up and examine my apartment (so I can get my deposit back, fingers crossed), and my suitcases are packed and waiting for me to lug them back to Canada…early tomorrow morning! The preparations for which, I hope, further explain my hiatus.

However, I haven’t stopped thinking about this blog and new topics and debates for it all this time, so as soon as I settle back into life and my new summer job back in Canada, Mandingueira will be up and running again at full force! Thank you so much for your patience and reader loyalty, and I will talk to you soon! I love you guys!

-Joaninha

Or: Why Sexist Capoeira Teachers Should Not Be Promoted

A short while ago, my friend and I had a conversation about capoeira teachers who are sexist, who treat their female students as inferior to male students of the same level (and below…so to male students in general). One of the things that struck me about the conversation was when I heard that other (male) students and teachers had excused a contra-mestre’s behaviour by saying he just “didn’t know how to act” (being new from Brazil and all, since, you know, obviously treating students equally takes special skill and talent there compared to all other parts of the world). [On the off-chance that someone read that as being really offendingly politically incorrect, please note the dripping sarcasm!]

My friend’s (and my) response to that: How can you be a contra-mestre and “not know how to act” when it comes to teaching? Even leaving aside if you’re naturally inclined to be sexist, or genuinely hold sexist views, you’d think somewhere along the way you would’ve learned what’s acceptable and what’s not, especially in such a position of responsibility (and power). (Not that I think pretending to be not-sexist is great, but if that’s what it takes, then better than nothing.)

This is a perfect example of what Faisca mentioned in his post on teaching capoeira: “15 years does not [necessarily] a good instructor make.” However, let’s take this a little bit further:

Forget good instructors. Does 15 years a good contra-mestre make? Does 30 years a good mestre make?

To be a qualified teacher, one should know what it means to teach, and what teaching is about. More importantly, they should know what their subject is about, and know it through and through.

Being deemed and respected as a mestr(a/e), contra-mestr(a/e), or any of the nearby levels implies that you have what verges on a deep, profound knowledge of capoeira, and have at least a better than average notion of what capoeira is all about.

Well, what is the one thing that capoeira is MOST touted for being all about, by beginners and advanced capoeiristas, old guard and avant-garde alike?

Universality. All-inclusiveness. “For men, women, and children.” (-Mestre Pastinha, in case anyone forgot)

In that case, wouldn’t that mean that a capoeirista who is sexist (or racist, or in fact discriminatory in any rights-violating way), and lets it show in the capoeira environment, lacks true understanding of one of the most basic, fundamental concepts of capoeira?

And thus is not prepared to be granted the recognition and responsibility that comes with being deemed a “full”/”good”/”advanced”/”true” capoeirista in the way that today’s capoeira systems do?

I mean, think about it. Beginner and novice capoeiristas are expected to be well-rounded in terms of the “physical” aspects of capoeira in order to be promoted; they need to know both movements and music. Even if they have great floreios and great game, they won’t go anywhere if they can’t hold a berimbau or sing any songs.

As you progress in capoeira, this required all-roundedness expands to include the metaphysical—that is, capoeira philosophy. Well, a basic part of the philosophy of capoeira is that it’s for everyone: girls as well as boys, women as well as men. So, wouldn’t promoting a supposedly philosophically advanced capoeirista who doesn’t understand that concept be akin to promoting an esquiva-challenged beginner capoeirista to novice level?

Of course, none of that applies if a certain mestre or contra-mestre or so on really believes that capoeira is not for everyone, and that “true” capoeira philosophically does mean Brazilian Males Only.

But otherwise…just saying. If capoeira is truly universal, as we all love to say it is, then please hang up your bigotry, or abada. Because a sexist capoeirista is, arguably, no capoeirista at all.

Picture source:
http://www.casafree.com/modules/xcgal/displayimage.php?pid=2555

This is my first real attempt in recent history at creative writing, thanks to an imaginative blog meme called “Once Upon a Bloggy Night“. What are the rules? Basically: write a short story, and incorporate into it the names of all the blogs you read. So voilà, a peek into my daily reading list (I got 85-90% of them in) and some fun fiction, wrapped up in one. I hope you enjoy it!

p.s. If you’re a blogger reading this…consider yourself tagged!

***

Contours
by Joaninha

“Parana e, parana e, parana—“
“IE!”

The circle froze, momentarily suspended in time as people paused and found their bearings, making the always-abrupt transition from 16th century Brazil to 21st century Canada. Raia threw a private tantrum as the roda dissolved, as her teacher dissembled the berimbau she’d been crouching towards when the roda ended.

I came here to play!, she seethed. So focused was Raia on her frustration that she succumbed to Palavra’s sneak attack and, surprised out of her mood, laughed as she jolted into retaliation.

“Porra!“
“The gringa strikes again!” her friend triumphed.
“You’re shameless, you know that?”
“This, from someone named ‘line’ just so she’d remember to stop crossing it?”
“Hey! It happened once—”

“OI, PALAVRA!”
“Uh-oh…uhm, salve, Mestra. Como está?”
“Don’t give me any of that skelliewag, you berimbau duties shirker. Just were where you during Mestre Angoleiro’s roda last week? And the one before that?”
“I’m sorry, Mestra. But my sister got really sick, and then our house got broken into, and…”

Now those are what I call fast fictions, Raia grinned as she packed up and left the academy. If only she knew he’d skipped because of a few unfortunately placed paper cuts. I wonder if there’s anything on The Capoeira Blog about buying into mosh pit-like rodas?

The 22-year-old news intern had a month before returning to the political grind known as Parliament Hill, where she harvested fodder for the CNN Political Ticker. With the extra time and some inspiration, she’d decided to try practicing The Art of Nonconformity. So far, this meant having her mind, body, and soul capoeira-infused, openly converting to the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, enrolling in a neuroanthropology course, becoming a freelance copyblogger, and turning her bedroom into a paradise of flowers and fruit. Sophocle’s Antigone was her most recent heroine.

As she cut through the park, Raia noticed a teenage girl drifting among the flowerbeds, stooping every few feet to search absent-mindedly through the fluttering palettes of colour. She appeared to be talking to herself.

“Are you alright? Do you want any help?” Raia approached the girl.
“…in the search…“
“What are you searching for?”
“…currents…”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“…create a way to state…“
“A way to state what? Look, I’d like to help, but I can’t if I don’t understand you.”

Suddenly, the girl turned and stared straight into Raia’s eyes. Only now did Raia notice her garments: a glittery white cutoff shirt, a thin, dark green vest, and khaki short shorts. A procession of small, jagged stones wound around her neck, and a leafy twig held up her hair. What is she, EnviroWoman?

“Create a way to State,” the girl repeated.
“To state what?” Raia asked, exasperated now.
“Not to state, a state. Your state. Here.” And she held out a tattered piece of old parchment.

Raia accepted, and the scent of pine and rainforest soil rose to greet her. She unfolded the paper to find an old-fashioned compass inked in by hand. Above it, squiggly lines had been dashed off in seemingly random order. Underneath it was written:

NxE

“North by East? I don’t understand.” Raia was getting real tired of not understanding.

“Who are you? How do you live?”

Despite the strangeness of their encounter, something about the girl compelled Raia to answer, rather than walk away. And did she hear wind chimes?

“Well…I have a pretty normal life. I work, I go out, I go to school…the daily slog. I love to write. I’m feminist, and just started, finally, a Feminism 101 blog. I want to work for Publisher’s Weekly, or be the next Andrew Coyne. I have a weakness for men with pens. I like traveling, indie music, theatre…,” Raia suddenly laughed at herself as she recalled a website her friend had forwarded the other day, adding ironically, “you know, ‘stuff white people like‘. And capoeira, of course; I can’t wait until my trip next year to see the Bahia capoeira scene firsthand. I try to live by my own values, morals, ethics, etc. I could do better, I suppose. Sometimes I feel like I could do something great, like write a series of revolutionizing broadsides for CBC Top Stories News, or uncover some amazing lifehack that would solve all our problems…”

Why am I telling her all of this?

“Because you are lost.”

Raia blanched. “Excuse me?“

“Look at the paper again.”

Raia looked, and wondered if she were hallucinating. The hand-drawn compass needle had started to quiver on the page, rotating slightly towards North, and the writing underneath had changed. It now read:

NNE

Before Raia could fully process what she was seeing, the girl began to speak.

“Have you ever seen Arabic calligraphy? It’s breathtaking. You take ordinary words, put them on canvas, and suddenly, they’re art. The words turn and coil, twist and bloom, moving in ways they never have before. What was once ruled lines and minced strokes becomes luxurious curves, indulgent elongation, voluptuous images and shapes. They become words without borders. Yet, what gave them the sudden capability to be this way? The seductive contours, the mesmerizing patterns; where did they come from? In actual fact…nothing did, and from nowhere.

“These qualities were an inherent part of each word all along; the only difference between love stated and love STATED was a simple decision on the part of s/he who controls the brush. Will this word be passive, and match all the rest? Or will it scream, shout, get attention, be remembered, and make its mark? Once this decision is made, the rest is simple: a little less ink here, a little more pressure on the brush there. All it takes is the choice. With that, any word easily bursts into the blinding glory of its full meaning and potential—into its true State.”

Raia opened her mouth, and a squeak came out. She tried again, “Who are you?”

The girl gave a half-smile, and shrugged. “Just a girl in short shorts talking about whatever. Would you like me to continue?”

“That piece of paper you’re holding depicts an open secret, one that is so open that people have forgotten it exists. You humans (yes, you have guessed correctly), you constantly speak of direction, of going the right way, of finding your path. Your north stars, you might say. But you become distracted, oh, so easily distracted. And so you end up veering east, and west, and sometimes even turning south—all the while thinking you are still pushing due north.

“In fact, you are already doing better than most. North by East, the compass said you were going, and further north after you began talking to me, and were forced to review your own life as a whole. It is always better to review a restaurant by sampling the whole menu, rather than focusing excessively on the daily dish. You are an economic woman, so you will appreciate knowing that at this point, it will take less work for you than it would for many others.”

“Less work for what?” Raia was slowly starting to wake up again.

“Why, to find your true State, of course. To do all the great things you say you want to do. To create a way to live your life that will lead to the fulfillment of your greatest potential. For you, that’s a mere adjustment of 22.5 degrees. Of course, it’s not even a quarter-turn in direction, but when one starts at the South Pole, go far enough and that less-than-quarter-turn becomes the difference between Greenland and Africa.

“That, incidentally, is the secret: Find where north is, then simply stay the course. Your north star represents your proper State—the full, complete, best you. Those who realize that, we call postsecret—the state of knowing in all certainty that life is worth living to the best of your passions and abilities, not to the best of traps and waylaying gnomes, not to the best of peer pressure, best of familial expectations, best of personal insecurities, or the best of false obligations. Do you understand what I’m saying, Raia?”

Raia nodded, trance-like, still staring at the dark sepia tinted compass that gauged her very life’s direction. Where to go from here? When she looked up, the girl was gone.

***

Artwork: Love by Hassan Massoudy

I just found these photos of some cupcakes I made last year, and thought you guys would get a kick out of them. Enjoy!

(Obsessed?? Who, me???)

I just finished one of the most inspiring articles I’ve ever read.

(I will connect it to capoeira at the end, but the main point of this post is mainly to tell you about the article, which is amazing.)

It’s called “In the Air”, by Malcom Gladwell (author of The Tipping Point and Blink), and in it he writes about how famous, revolutionary, groundbreaking ideas…are out there for anyone to come up with.

You know the ones: evolution, the telephone, calculus, colour photography…and at least 144 other “major scientific discoveries” were all “discovered”/”invented” by more than one person, in different periods of time as well as within days of each other, without the other(s) even knowing.

The conclusion from this is that it doesn’t take our traditional idea of a “genius” to come up with such ideas—that is, Darwin and Alexander Graham Bell and many of the rest weren’t geniuses in the sense that they and only they could have been the ones to come up with their respective theories/discoveries/inventions. If any of them had met an untimely death, someone else could and would have eventually discovered/realized the same thing, perhaps taking a different or longer path (or not even), but ultimately reaching the same destination.

Rather, Darwin et al. were geniuses because they had the capacity to spend the time, put in the effort, and think in the lateral, creative, out-of-the-box ways required to come up with their ideas. So, it’s reasoned that if you got many slightly less remarkable people together and had them brainstorm crazily for long periods of time, something would come out of that. Lo and behold:

“So Edward took his people out, plus me,” Wood said. “And the eight of us sat down at a table and the attorney said, ‘Do you mind if I record the evening?’ And we all said no, of course not. We sat there. It was a long dinner. I thought we were lightly chewing the rag. But the next day the attorney comes up with eight single-spaced pages flagging thirty-six different inventions from dinner. Dinner.”

I should note here that those eight people at dinner included a law degree-holding electrical engineer, and a biologist who once walked across Texas with nothing but a sleeping bag, flashlight, and rifle. (I really meant it when I said only “slightly” less remarkable.) Still, these men have come up with real ways to do things like filtering cancer cells out of someone’s blood, or literally harnessing the power of ocean waves to stop hurricanes.

According to the article, someone is a genius not just because they thought of a particular idea that would never have been discovered otherwise, but because they were able to do it all on their own. The important thing to note from that is: the idea is out there. It’s not locked up within any one particular person, never to make an entrance into history if that person suddenly disappears. Maybe it takes a team of eight almost-geniuses to discover what one genius could discover on their own, but the discovery is still able to be made. All it takes is enough looking and thinking.

One reason the team above, Intellectual Ventures, is so successful is because of the crazily varied backgrounds, experience, and expertise of each member. You look at a problem in enough number of different ways, and eventually a spectacular solution will be found. For instance, the cancer cell filter came out of introducing a doctor to a physicist; one had the problem, the other had the solution, but they never would’ve known it without criscrossing the two fields together.

So theoretically…any one of us could do this. Just using capoeira as an example, what if you could get a group of eight novice to advanced capoeiristas together, who all had completely different specialities (e.g. photographer, academic, tradesperson, stay-at-home mom, financial expert, advertising director, journalist, musician), and just discussed capoeira for a few hours, keeping innovation in mind the whole time? What kind of new ideas, creative strategies, philosophical twists, interesting moves might come out of that?

I got so excited after reading this article, I opened my browser and started writing up this post right away. I hope it got you thinking too, about ideas, and solutions, and innovation, and where it all comes from, and the idea that it can come from one of us. Just imagine the possibilities!

Picture source: http://www.salsaspirit.co.za/images/capoeira.jpg

If you saw someone being attacked—a man being mugged on the street, a woman being raped in an alley—would you do something? Would you intervene, call for help, phone the police…or avert your gaze, speed up your footsteps, and pretend it never happened?

I want to focus on one particular aspect of the incident I wrote about on Sunday, when a woman was sexually assaulted on-stage by a comedian (”comedian”) as part of his “act”. I’m not talking about the comedian himself, certainly not the woman (unless you’re the victim-blaming type), and not even the culture that allowed it to happen—but the audience. The audience who sat there and watched it happen—and let it happen. As written in The Guardian:

How on earth can these people solemnly preach to us all about the terrible trauma his poor victim must have felt when they all sat in the audience and watched without lifting a finger, then went home and sat in front of their laptops sanctimoniously tapping away at a self-righteous denouncement of his actions which they had just sat and allowed to happen?

You know what the saddest part is? I can understand it.

The bystander effect is one of the most well-known psychological studies in examining how our social consciences work, and what it says is:

When there is an attack or crime being committed, the more bystanders there are, the less likely it is that any of them will actually help.

In other words, if you see a man or woman being attacked in an empty street, and no one else is around, you are much, much more likely to help them or call the police; and you will almost certainly not help them or do anything if they were being attacked in broad daylight, on the busiest street in your city, during rush hour. Unless, of course, you’re genuinely good and brave and valiant like that—which, let’s be honest, many of us aren’t. (Although, if someone would like to do a study on the effects of exposure to capoeira music on a given group of bystanders while witnessing an attack, I’m open to suggestions!)

The following is literally the textbook case of the bystander effect—it’s what started the whole study of this phenomenon in the first place (emphasis mine):

Forty years ago, Kitty Genovese was attacked and murdered outside her New York City apartment building. Thirty-eight people heard her calls for help as they watched from behind their apartment windows. The attack lasted more than half an hour. After it was over, someone called the police, who arrived within two minutes.

Pretty astounding, don’t you think? And I’ve touched on the bystander effect personally here, describing how on my way home one night I wasn’t sure whether I was witnessing a woman being attacked or not, and didn’t know how to react. That led to a discussion in which a very important question was raised:

How do we overcome the bystander effect?

After all, nobody wants to be the insecure, self-justifying, crowd-mentality loser who let a woman get knifed or a man suffer hate crime in front of their very eyes, right?

Although I am the last person who has any concrete solutions to this problem, I firmly believe that the more you know about something, the more you’ll be capable of fighting against it when you need to. So first, I’ll list some things that I’ve picked up along the way. If you witness an attack:

Use your cellphone (or any phone). It’s relatively risk-free, you can do it at a distance from the attack, and you can probably remain anonymous if you’re that concerned about it. The important thing is: just pick up and dial! 9-1-1 [or whatever the emergency number is in your region]. It’s not hard; or it is hard, but not so hard that you can’t force yourself to do it in order to save somebody’s life.

Follow your gut instinct. If you think something’s not right, it probably isn’t. If your stomache, chest, throat, and blood pulse are telling you something’s not right, then it almost definitely isn’t.

Suppress your “What if I’m wrong/What if I embarrass myself?” inside voice. After all, what’s worse: the effects of a little embarassment on you, or the effects of a sexual and/or violent attack on the victim?

Empathize. Studies show that a bystander is more likely to intervene if they see themselves as being a part of the same social group as the victim, or if they have a connection with them in some way. That is, white bystanders are more likely to help if the victim is white, women are more likely to help (than not help) if the victim is a woman, and so on.

The interesting thing is that apparently, this perception can be expanded to include larger and larger groups. So if you see someone being attacked or assaulted, maybe instead of seeing them as a stranger who doesn’t look, think, or live like you, make yourself realize that it’s another student being assaulted there, or another <insert job title>, or another <insert nationality>, or another brother/sister/father/mother, or, in fact, another human being…just like you.

Get training. As capoeiristas, we arguably have a slight advantage over the average non-martial artist when it comes to attacks and self-defense. However, this doesn’t matter if you believe you can’t use capoeira in “real-life” situations. Why? One major reason that bystanders don’t intervene in emergency situations is, quite simply, they don’t know how.

They know they should do something, but have no idea what course of action to take, and are scared they’ll do something wrong, or make things worse. So, if you are serious about wanting to be able to prevent sexual assault when you see it, research ways to identify and stop such situations, so that you’ll be prepared and have confidence in what you’re doing when the necessary time comes.

Know your help will help, no matter what. Having suggested “get training” above, just a reminder that training is not AT ALL necessary in preventing sexual assault or any attack. You don’t need special training in order to shout outloud, yell for help, or call the police. In a study, assault perpetrators said they were able to succeed with their crimes because they knew people would let them. They counted on the bystander effect! Prove them wrong.

Learn how it works. Finally, what I said earlier: the more you know about something, the more capable you will be of fighting it. If you can tell yourself in a situation that your discomfort in helping is due purely to this phenomenon that is distorting your judgement, then you are more likely to overcome it and take action. In that vein, I’m linking to several articles below that are definitely worth a read to find out more about being a good (or bad) bystander, so please take the time to read them.

• Stepping up to stop sexual assault - A really informative article that discusses the bystander effect in the comedian/assaulted woman case and talks about bystander training (what it can do and how it works).

• Failing to Fight the Good Fight - It’s not just sexual assault that the bystander effect applies to. This article describes how the author was the only one to stand up against racism in a crowded London metro.

• As individuals, we help. As a corporate whole, we don’t. - An article about the bystander effect, inspired by a recent incident where cars in traffic swerved around a woman lying in the middle of the road with her head bleeding. Just read the first page (it kind of goes off-track after that).

• Encouraging Bystander Intervention for Sexual Violence Prevention [pdf] - If you have the time, a fascinating study that really goes into the details of what affects a bystander’s decision to help, and how to encourage bystander intervention.

The first article makes a really good point, that applies to this post as well: Nobody needs bystander training. None of you need to have read this post in order to increase the chances you will help someone you see being victimized, in the future. As I said, any person off the street, any one of us, has the power to intervene when we see someone doing something wrong to another person. More often than not, all it takes is a single word or gesture that shows the perpetrator that people notice. The only problem is overcoming the social forces and tiny voice in our head that says we can’t, for this or that or whatever (non-)reason.

In other words, don’t be a lemming, and don’t be insecure or afraid to take action. Yes, it might be difficult, and I’m not saying or even sure that I’ll be able to do something the next time it’s asked of me, but…someone’s life (which includes life as they know it, e.g. rape is a horrifically life-changing event) could depend on it.