The particular one I took was called Women’s Fights, which must have been named for a good reason but only makes me think of boyfights from Arrested Development.
Oh, that, and unagi, but that’s not the fault of the name.
The class itself was okay, but I went by myself, and there was an odd number of participants, so of course I ended up as part of a threesome with 2 friends, so I didn’t get to practice as much as I would’ve liked. To be fair, practicing on women a head shorter than you and 20 pounds lighter may not be the ideal way to prepare for an attacker anyway.
Regardless, like with Krav Maga, the class left me feeling even less prepared to face danger.
I’m starting to think that’s the whole point, but donations went toward a good cause, so I can’t complain.
Plus, I still–and will, for the foreseeable future–have a first line of defense thanks to my height. It turns out the same thing that intimidates men at bars gives me a slight edge against would-be predators. Which makes sense, given many would-be predators have at one point been men at bars.