Every black belt candidate, prior to the date of their final test, is assigned an essay. It’s an exercise in reflection, in thought, and the prompt is “What Black Belt Means to Me.”
It’s an objective standard, applicable to every tester on the team. Every black belt student is held accountable not only to themselves and to their instructors, but to their fellow testers. If someone’s falling behind, if someone gets a serious case of nerves, if someone forgets the second half of their form, it’s up to you, as their teammate—as a leader—to lift them up.
Everyone has to make the grade. But the essay is also very personal, individual. What will I become as a black belt? What has changed for me over the course of my four-year journey?
As a white belt (or in a belt-less white uniform, before even earning that degree), there’s very little to reflect on in your martial arts career—everything lies ahead. This is true of kids and adults. Everyone’s green, so to speak, when they step on the mat and slap their hands to attention for the first time. But each belt rank that you pass, from gold to high brown, offers a chance to reflect back. It also offers a chance to help teach others.
Often parents ask about leadership, and how it relates to black belt. The simple answer is that the process of earning a black belt requires leadership, regardless of whether the student is shy or proud, reserved or outgoing. If you can’t lead, you can’t become a black belt. And if you can’t teach, if you’re unable or unwilling to help others, you can’t lead.
Partner drills (there are hundreds, thousands in the course of four years of karate classes) exemplify this. You might be matched with someone who greatly exceeds you in skill or knowledge. You might be matched with someone who has just begun to learn. In either case, it’s your job to adjust to your partner’s level to impart—or receive—as much wisdom as you can.
That’s why you often see black belts punching or kicking or blocking more slowly than their white belt partners. There’s more to be seen in the demonstration of a well-executed slow punch. The impulse in the lower belt is to dash off their moves, to beat their opponent to the (literal) punch. But the black belt moves more assuredly. Lighting speed is in the arsenal, but only drawn when needed.
In sum, the old adage proves true: A black belt is just a white belt who never quit. Kids in karate learn how to move, how to be vocal, and how to engage with others. Along the black belt journey, they also learn how to lead.
And thus the black belt journey culminates in an essay, an exercise in writing and reflection, a blueprint to inspire others. What have a I learned in my karate career? What lies ahead? Who has helped me get to where I am? Where will it all lead? These are major questions, especially in the fertile minds of kids. And it’s all part of the black belt experience.
