When in NIce, France, my father joined a judo club, it was full of great physicality and control.
All of sports best qualities.
So at 11 I was taken to Miyazu Judo club in Tahuna Nelson.
I was run by a sensei who was a nutter.
Before competition he would  glad wrap himself, put on clothes, then jog, to lose weight to have an advantage he otherwise didn't have through skill.
He was a brown belt, and often would hand over the junior class to a blue belt.
There was no control or respect.
I was soon too old to be in the junior class, and briefly was in an intermediate class.
I carpooled with a family, who lived at the bottom of the valley.
There was another girl for a while, but she didn't stay long, I think the 'lads' turning her name into a joke might have hurt.
But not as much when a boy crushed my throat in an illegal strangle hold, trying to tap out, the sadist waited till I lost consciousness. He was thrown out of the club. My voice returned in a lower register.
Soon after the family I carpooled with left the club, and the intermediate class wasn't an option.
So at 12 I was a senior.
I was a bit of a pet, treated delicately, by rough men.
That didn't stop the intimacy of having to practice groundwork with a hippy, commune dweller who never wore a shirt under his Gi.  Garlic smelling sweat falling from the chest hair on my face.
There were club movie nights. We all went to the local video store, which was fun. A children's movie, was followed by porn. Somehow the other parents knew when the time line was about to be crossed. I got to see some classics, like "Double penetration".
Maybe it was this that changed the judo 'boys' view of me, because suddenly I was a women.
I was pursued and my head turned by such interest, I played the coquette. 
It was sport till one night at the house of one of the 'boys', where dad had gone to have drinks, I had gone to bed so they could have an all nighter. And he came in to sleep with me. I must have made disturbance and dad came in, he hid behind the door. Are you okay, I'm asked,  thinking in causing trouble, I guiltily look at the door silently. Dad discovers him. There's a lot of shouting. We leave.
Somehow I'm to blame. I am always causing problems. 
The boy's start coming to our house the drink. Safer under our roof.
The sport and the game change.

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