The Judo Queen
BY JOE O'CONNOR, National Post in Mississauga, Ont.
Published 2005She is the granddaughter of one of Japan's last samurai. She chose work over marriage when it was an unpopular choice. She proved herself vital to the national defence of the United States.
She is 92 years old, has arthritis in every joint, and a right hand that trembles from the effects of Parkinson's disease. And yesterday, she was sitting in a wheelchair.
But then Keiko Fukuda stood up, hobbled to a judo mat where the blue line would have been at the Hershey Centre, and started tossing one of her students around like a down-filled pillow.
"The heavier you are the easier you are to throw,” Fukuda said, moments before her demonstration sent a buzz through an assemblage of black belts who had come from all over the world for the 2005 World Masters Judo Championships. "Many newspapermen me to do judo – I have to – and throw for me is a natural move.
“It's getting up off the mat that I find hard. But I feel like I'm 20.”
Imagine a baseball junkie getting an opportunity to watch Babe Ruth take batting practice, and you get an idea of what it is like for a judoka to see Fukuda in action.
She was wearing a black blazer and grey slacks yesterday afternoon, but when Fukuda is at her home club in San Francisco - where she still teaches three times a week - she dresses in white, with a cherry-red belt tied around her waist.
Fukuda is the queen of the judo mat and the red belt is her crown. It signifies that she is a ninth level dan. She is the first woman to achieve the rank. Only a handful of men have been able to go one step further to attain the 10th level in judo’s 123-year history.
Fukuda’s extraordinary standing isn’t so astonishing when you consider her roots. Her first teacher was Jigoro Kano, the Founding father of the martial art.
"After there were no more samurai, my grandfather opened up a dojo in Tokyo," Fukuda said. " Kano started studying jujitsu with my grandfather, and then Kano changed it to judo."
Kano opened his Kodokan judo school in Tokyo in 1882. His fighting philosophy was one of "maximum efficiency,” and he taught his disciples to flow with their opponents strength, turning their weight and momentum against them in a series of throws, kicks. punches and chokes.
But Kana never forgot Fukuda's grandfather.
When he added a women's, section to the Kodokan in the 1930s, he paid a visit to his old master's family to see if their daughter was interested in studying at his school. Fukuda's father had died young, and her only brother was in poor health. It was left up to her to carry on in the family tradition.
"Mother took me to the Kodokan to watch a judo ceremony, and I remember watching these women and going, ‘Ohhhhhh’" Fukuda said. "At home women were always kneeling - but the [judo] movements - my grandmother was never allowed to do what they were doing - I'd never seen that before.”
Fukuda went home after watching the demonstration to think about Kano's offer. Knowing what the martial arts had meant to her grandfather - a man she never met - she agreed to go to the Kodokan. The 2l-year old already held a university degree in Japanese literature, and she was well-studied in the traditional female arts of flower arranging and calligraphy, but it was in judo that she found her calling.
Fukuda's focus was singular, although there was the occasional distraction. At one point a marriage was arranged with a high ranking judoka. Fukuda met her would-be husband, but when she found out marrying him would mean giving up the martial arts, she politely declined.
"Judo is one way," she said. "Boyfriends would make it two ways; would make it harder. I was not interested in marriage.”
Fukuda’s first visit to the U.S. was in the early 1950s. She came back in the mid-‘60s and landed a job teaching judo at Mills College in Oakland. San Francisco City College had also wanted to hire her, but the position was only being offered to American citizens. Fukuda decided she wanted to become a citizen a few years later.
However there was a problem.
"At that time there was a quota system and only 123 Asians were allowed to become U.S. citizens each year” Fukuda's longtime friend, housemate and traveling companion Shelley Fernandez said.
The samurai's granddaughter had no interest in getting involved in an arranged marriage with an American man to get a passport, and the job she had at Mills College did not pay enough to warrant an economic exemption. That left option three.
"If you prove that you are one of a kind, and vital to the defence of the United States, immigration can grant you your citizenship,” Fernandez said.
Fukuda hit the road to prove just how vital she was. She gave judo demonstrations at sheriff's departments at a time when women were gradually breaking into the policing ranks. Drawing stellar reviews wherever she went, Fukuda came away from the experience with one very long petition peppered with sheriffs' testimonials. She and Fernandez took it to the immigration department, and not long after, the U.S. had itself a new citizen.
Fukuda's body may be breaking down now, but her spirit is intact and her commitment to her martial art is enduring. And she is eager to share its secrets. Indeed, before dazzling the crowd at the Hershey Centre Fukuda leaned over in her wheelchair and shared her judo motto with a novice.
"Be strong, be gentle, be beautiful,” she said, "Have a strong mind and body, I was very stubborn as a little girl, I was born stubborn. I remember breaking a rice bow1 in middle school, and my mother telling me I was stubborn. Judo showed me you have to be gentle.
"You are a very nice looking boy, but this is just the outside - the inside has to be beautiful, too. Every day; think of that, think of becoming a nicer person."
Republished with permission.
Copyright 2005, National Post.
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