"That girl."

Last night, I cried. With all of them staring.

I've been a part of this Brazilian martial arts group for over a year. It's a sport that requires physical strength and natural talent, both of which I lack. For the most part I've come to terms with my spotty athleticism and lukewarm ability to be a strong competitor. I've accepted that I will never be one of those women who performs with graceful aggression, who inspires awe and wonder or even the occasional daaaammn, she's not bad.

But I have not come to terms with being "that girl." You know who I'm talking about. That fragile shy soft-spoken white girl who blushes when her name is called. Who does not emit strength or toughness or anything that implies confidence. Who is not taken seriously and is more likely to hear a patronizing aw, it's okay sweetie, you do your best than a genuine compliment.

And crying in front of them reinforced it even more.

Last night I had been accidentally kicked--twice--by two different people in my capoeira class. The first time, I was hit square in the back by someone who wasn't watching what they were doing. I sat down and held an ice pack and talked back the tears that would've gladly come down if I'd been alone. The second time, someone did a flip and misjudged his landing distance. I stepped back and shielded my face and down he came, thankfully on my arm and not my head.

I didn't even bruise. It wasn't that bad. But I stumbled back, cradling my arm as my eyes, already plagued with shock and fear, began to water. Everyone froze as I slunk toward the bathroom, trying to muster a calm I'm fine! No big deal!, which came out no less than a gasping shrill. I stayed in the bathroom for 10 minutes, trying not to sob uncontrollably.

I cried all the way home and some more in the shower. I cried for a good 45 minutes--into the water stream, into my towel, into my eggs and tea. Because it hurt.

A lot of people in my group like to talk about how capoeira brings out who people really are. That your true colors shine when you are in the roda and almost to the point of absolute exhaustion. And while I do agree that capoeira can serve as a unique physical and emotional release, I cannot accept that this sport elicits my purest form.

Because that would mean I am fear. Doubt. Insecurity and self-loathing. The antithesis of strength.

Though I am afflicted with anxiety and depression and a natural talent at sucking at organized sports, I would also like to think that I am something more than scared tears. That past my nervous smiles and timid disposition, there is courage and spirit. Maybe even enough to inspire a daaaammn, she's not bad.

I've been sitting here for half an hour trying to finish this post. I'd like to end on an encouraging note, but I do not feel encouraged. I'm tempted to believe that writing it out has made me more hopeful, that maybe things will change, whether it be my disposition during capoeira class or the way I view the whole situation. But that would be a lie. All I feel like is "that girl."