The Envy of your Ancestors

The Envy of your Ancestors

 

My ancestors became Americans, but at first they were peasants.

One half of my family is from the Philippines. The Spanish Empire claimed the islands, named them after their King (Philip), and ruled for four hundred years. My mom’s family came from a rural mountain province that only had five thousand people in it at the start of the 20th century. They farmed and fished and traded just enough to survive and send a few children to America. 

The caucasian half fled poverty, persecution, and famine in the United Kingdom. They crossed the Atlantic in waves from the 1600’s to the 1800’s, and were lucky to enjoy many of the benefits of being white in this country. 

The way I laid it out makes their origins sound similar, but the island groups my ancestors came from had radically different geographies, histories, governments, and cultures. The fact that they were poor before they got here is the thread that unites them. 

However, the money they built their lives with never corrected a core imbalance from the Old World.

 

 

None of them got to wear armor.

 

I don’t mean a hard hat, or work gloves, or steel-toed boots, or skate pads or any of the modern apparel we wear to reduce injury and legal liability. Armor: a second skin of expertly worked metal that bends when you move; an impenetrable shell that turns a squishy human into a creature of destruction.

 

The Kings and Queens of England and Spain spent their empires’ great wealths on the best arms and armor they could afford, and they used it to rule the world. They used it to rule my family. Yours too, probably. 

 

The majority of us have genes seeded with the Old-World envy of our ancestors because they knew armor and the training to fight in it would never be theirs. They were told that the quality of their blood and the lightness of their purses made them unworthy. They were told that the men in armor were their superiors, in society and humanity. 

 

But we live in the New World where that isn’t true. 

 

 

 

 

On my first day.

 

The leaders of the Golden Knights put me in their own armor, gave me an ax, and I fought with the team. We talked a bit about rules, we talked a bit about technique, but what I remember was the weight. In total, fighting in armor means you weigh about seventy pounds more than usual, which is almost unimaginable. The helm alone is about fifteen pounds, and considering the average human head weighs ten, that’s significant. 

 

I was already heavy from a lifetime of junk food and overeating, I could barely move under the weight. Balance problems are more extreme the heavier you are, and I fell at least once without much effort from my opponent. From my limited perspective (visibility is an issue even in the best helm) I didn’t do great. I got a few hits in, but I was bewildered and exhausted the whole time. 

 

… But I was hit in the head by a longsword and shook it off. 

 

Then I chopped someone’s ribs like I was cutting down a tree and they were fine. 

 

I put close to 100% of my power and strength into a fight, and at the end my opponent and I hugged, switched partners, and kept going. 

 

I won’t lie—I felt so much better once I got it all off. On the drive home I was sore and light-headed from exhaustion, but I could not stop laughing with joy, relief, and excitement.

 

 

 

I did something my ancestors never did. You can do it, too.

 

The Golden Knights want you to know what ultimate martial power feels like. If you try it and it isn’t for you, none of us will think less of you. No matter what, you will think more of yourself. And if you believe the dead watch us from the afterlife, know that they will be jealous, but they will also be proud that one of their line finally got to do something they were told they never could.