Nip Kicks?

I was born April 11, 1960, in Buffalo, New York. Most of my neighbors were stereotypical 'All American' Caucasian, except for my friend Jeffery and my older sister's best friend Debbie (their families are Jewish). We went to a Unitarian church, where I remember lots of different shades of people and a great uplifting chorus of 'We Shall Overcome'. At the local YMCA we regularly shared the pool with a woman and her family who bore the effects of thalidomide. Most of our holidays were spent in Oka with our Mohawk relations. My parents never taught me to judge people by the colour of their skin, the way they dressed, or by their physical appearance. I was brought up 'colour-blind'.

My Mom is 'White' and my Dad is Japanese, but frankly I didn't know there was a difference until I started getting in fights because of it. Like many 'different' kids, I fought my way through most of my childhood.

Sometimes 'different' people get picked on. It doesn't really matter what the difference is: short/tall, skinny/fat, male/female, black/white/red/yellow. When there isn't any obvious physical difference, anything will do: Catholic/Protestant, Hindu/Muslim, gay/straight, Leafs/Habs, Heavy Metal/Goth.

Unless one is ashamed of the truth, then the truth can't hurt you.

As a kid I was called 'Chink' a lot. The names themselves never really bothered me. I learned from an early age that it only showed my attackers' fear. As long as it's true, a label is just a label, and like my parents I was defiantly proud. So proud that I finally started telling my would be assailants that I didn't mind the names, but to at least get the race right: "I'm a 'Nip' not a 'Chink'". Then, usually as they ran away from the fight, I'd warn them to "get it right next time!" By the time I hit my teens, 'the Nip' had a reputation and the name took on a kind of teenage mystique.

I was smaller than other kids my age and, of course, Bruce Lee and 'Billy Jack' were my movie heroes. 1974 marked the beginning of my formal martial arts education. Up until this time I really didn't have much actual martial arts training. Even though I studied Kendo with my Dad, I was mostly a self-taught street-fighter. I faked it and drew on that Asian stereotype. I was really into (gasp) high-kicks! How many of you can finish the line, "...I'm gonna take this foot...".

Most of my friends were in a gang of some sort, and that was cool, but I was the 'Chonan' of a (former) Samurai family and I thought that was cooler! Instead of wearing their jacket, I designed my first set of personal 'colors', 6" block letters: NIP, with a long, full-colour 'tanto' across the center.

Anyway, I've probably rambled on long enough. It seemed a natural progression from 'the Nip that kicks' to 'that Nip kicks' until, by the time I hit 16, I was simply 'Nip Kicks' Then I discovered custom motorcycles and punk rock, and that my friends, is a whole other story!

Peace,
Makoto


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