"Women are Bad Luck”
Being a woman in the traditional Muay Thai scene
After a little more than a year of being in Thailand, I was confident in my Muay Thai journey. I’d found where I belonged - across the world pursuing the sport I loved; I found gyms where I wasn’t treated in the ways I’d so often heard women get underestimated or reduced to a sex object, and I was about to be fighting in the RWS tournament in Rajadamnern. I was excited and hopeful and felt more and more like I was exactly where I needed to be.
This particular weekend I was visiting a gym in Pathum Thani with my boyfriend and supporting fighters each day of the weekend at Raja Knockout, RWS, and Kietpetch promotions.
Friday, he had three fighters up at Raja Knockout and with only one trainer, I happily stepped in to help massage and get everybody ready just in time for their respective fights while he was wrapping the hands of the next. At this time I wasn’t the most confident in my cornering abilities, but I knew how to do the basics and there was nobody else, so I was happy to help, and used the opportunity to beat my imposter syndrome, proving that little voice in my head wrong.
It was a rushed, but fun experience - exhilarating, I tried to take in all the elements of watching fights at Rajadamnern for the first time, and preparing for my own time in the stadium. Exhausted, with some wins and losses we went back to the gym ready to sleep and do it again the following day for Somratsamee.
The next evening getting to RWS I was again starry-eyed and ready - that upcoming Monday, my photo shoot for the tournament was scheduled. This time more of the team came to support, so at first when I wasn’t allowed into the warm up room I just assumed it was ‘full’ and I would go watch fights from the stands. Still, the way the security yelled and jumped with their hands extended to stop my entry was jarring. I felt like I’d done something wrong even assuming I could go in. The room where the night before I was needed to prepare fighters, and in a month I would be warming up for my fight I wasn’t allowed... because I was a woman. But the logic didn’t make sense. Women are fighting on this card, that’s why I’m here, I thought.
I tried not to think too much of it and enjoy the fights, but it’s hard not to be aware when you’re very alone in air-con. Even after the fights finished, they still wouldn’t let me go into the room. The feelings then transformed to a gross feeling I hadn’t experienced in a long time. A mix of shame and isolation as if I’d done something wrong, or missed a social cue that everyone else understood. And no one had a problem that I was left out. At the time, this wasn’t my gym so I respected that space and tried to accept that maybe this just wasn’t for me, but I was filled with anger from the injustice. The next night one more boy was fighting on a promotion in Rajadamnern, but I decided not to go. I was exhausted and I knew that I’d be left out, so I kept myself from that situation.
As the years have continued, I have been a support for many fighters at many events now even with my own team and boyfriend, and am always excluded from the warm up room of those traditional shows. It doesn’t matter how inexperienced a man is, or even children are allowed, but if I attempt to step in I’m yelled at by security. You’re not welcome here runs through my mind after each time as I’m sat on the wooden bench outside. The hardest part is when my team forgets and tries to tell me to follow them before or after the fight or asks for my help to take care of documents etc. All things I cannot do, because I’m not allowed. While it’s nice that they don’t think I would be excluded, it ignores my reality. And when others are fighting I try to be intentional not to take the space or attention away from them so I don’t want to make anyone care for me. But, it hurts.
Celebrating the TKO with Moo.
The most recent time, I went to help my team after an amazing night at One Championship when my now husband won by TKO in the first round. Feelings were flying high - I’d helped to support him and even corner at Lumpinee (not that I had to do much). We went early in the morning to Omnoi Stadium to support one of our other fighters. By now I’d learned, and I asked the night prior, “Am I going to be allowed to be in the back room?”
“Of course,” He replied. I had never been to Omnoi before, so I didn’t question.
At the stadium we entered easily, P’ Gaeng greeted us and left to connect with various gyms and fighters. We sat on two plastic chairs as he was wrapping Tai’s hands and I helped tear the tape for him in preparation. I was feeling more confident, thinking only of how I was going to learn how to wrap hands so I could be a more capable corner. I went to the bathroom outside the warm up room (the only one for women), and when I came back there was a man guarding the entrance. He shook his head at me and closed the little gate separating me from my team. I tried to explain in Thai (knowing full well it wouldn’t change anything) but he just kept that gate closed. I called Moo, “He won’t let me in.”
“What? That’s ok, I only have to massage Tai and then he fights.”
It wasn’t ok for me. How do you explain the pain of exclusion in a place where it’s normalized. I understand why they don’t want excessive people in the back room who aren’t a part of the fight team, but this time I was! I walked to the stands with resignation, accepting that as much as I want it to be, this space isnt’ for me. Women cannot fight on these shows, and as much as I love traditional 5-round Muay Thai, they don’t want me. I cried unabashedly in the stands. I hate crying in public, but I was too exhausted from the little sleep to put on a nice face. Why am I here? ran through my head repeatedly. Moo came out I could see initially annoyed at having one more thing to “take care of” with my emotions. “It’s because the guys are changing and they don’t want women there,” he tried to reason. I knew that wasn’t the case because at weigh ins where I’m almost always present the boys get fully naked. And I look away to give privacy, but no one has ever asked me to leave the weigh ins. I calmed down and he seemed to be more aware of the situation “let’s go back, they just thought you were a foreigner and I’ll explain you’re here to help corner.” I followed Moo, and at the gate we were stopped again, he explained to the man that I was a part of the team, one of the two corners. After some back and forth he said that women weren’t allowed because we were bad luck, and then turned to escort out the Thai women (most likely mothers or gym owners) who were back there making his rule inaccurate. I was over it. I went and sat in the stands and messaged my friends I was missing spending time with to support the team.
Wrapping Tai’s hands before I left and wasn’t allowed back
What made this day worse was that our fighter was the last fight of the morning show, which if there are no knockouts gets pushed to the last fight of the evening show - finishing around 7. That day there were no knockouts. The long misery extended while I debated taking a 500 baht grab to see my friends more than an hour away. It’s a melange of anger for myself, while not wanting to take that out on my husband or teammate, I felt stuck. I wouldn’t want my pain to be an inconvenience for anyone. We napped in the car and went back in the evening, I where I found my spot in the crowd and spent time on my phone because it’s difficult to be interested in fights when they’re blatantly not a space for me.
Bad luck?! I know that many traditions are deeply rooted and not logical - even the requirement of women to enter the ring under the ropes because we are unclean - and I accept them because I don’t want to be disrespectful to the culture. Let me be clear, this is not meant to be a post about “Sexism in Thailand is hard,” as so many people have alluded to me over the years. Sexism everywhere is hard, and it manifests in different shades in Thailand versus other countries. This story is to explore my feelings about this experience because every time it happens to me it’s a visceral pain, and I think that’s worth discussing.
I wrestle with this topic internally often. Initially I questioned if I was being an entitled white woman, wanting everything my way and not being respectful of other cultures. I believe in always questioning my potential wrong in every situation first. But, after truly considering my role, I think it’s a justified response. I’m a professional fighter, and I help corner. That being said - literally ANY man can enter these rooms regardless of their capabilities or background - as well as male children. The feelings of anger, hurt, and exclusion burn inside of me. I cannot help but question why I’m there. My favorite style of this sport - traditional 5-round Muay Thai, doesn’t allow me to fight in Bangkok, but I’m not even allowed in the back room. And this experience isn’t only mine, my friend who is part owner of her husband’s gym recently went to Rajadamnern for the first time to support her team and experienced the same thing, as I’m sure countless other women in this scene do.
It’s a harsh feeling to go from belonging to explicitly and loudly excluded. Made worse by the fact that men won’t experience it, so they don’t consider it as important. At most, it’s an inconvenience for them that I’m not around, but not relevant to whats in front of them. Likewise, when it comes to fighting, my opportunities are much more narrow. There are six entertainment shows in Bangkok that allow women to fight on them: Fairtex, LWC SuperChamp, Raja Knockout, Thai Fight League, ONE Championship, and RWS. When people ask me if I like fighting 3-round or 5 round events, I say 5-round, but there are none that allow me, unless it’s an entertainment show for a belt. Your preferences don’t matter when your options are limited. Women are taking what we can get, anywhere we can. That’s just a part of the reality myself and other women experience out here.
For my own sanity, sometimes I have to separate myself from the sport. I always ask about new events if I will be allowed, and have the anticipatory tightness in my chest going into any warm up room of a traditional show. If I don’t have people to sit with outside, sometimes I forego the event and send support from afar.
This is why I love women in Muay Thai, because to get to any part of the journey in the sport you’re already overcoming so much. Societal expectations, fear, exclusion in the gym, ignorance from coaches around women’s physiology, training, weight cutting, harassment, abuse, the list is endless. I have my own precautions and intentions I’ve made to protect myself as well as make peace with what I can accept and I know every woman out here is doing the same for herself.