Chung-Hua Institute

Kung-Fu is generally thought of as "soft style". What the heck that means is anyone's guess. I've heard people tell me that it's referred to that way because the Japanese and Korean styles generally have harder, crisper movements than the Chinese forms. I've heard still others tell me that it's because the Chinese don't use muscular tension when executing their forms. And the third most common answer I've heard is that Chinese forms are so circular, therefore their movements look soft. Whatever.

I supposed I'm spoiled since I've had the opportunity to meet with many exponents on the different styles of Chinese martial arts and see firsthand the kind of power that they generate, and I'm here to tell you that there's nothing soft about the way a well-trained Kung-Fu stylist moves or hits. A lot of people have the misconception that all "kung-fu" styles have movements similar to modern wushu or Tai-Chi. The reality couldn't be farther from the truth. For example, northern Hsing-Yi is a very hard, fast style, with vicious punching and deft footwork. And from the southern part of China, the Bak Mei style is a great representative of the "hard knock" flavor that people rarely give Kung-Fu credit for.

According to Boston based instructor Wayne Chin, "Bak Mei is also known as 'Whitebrow' Kung-Fu since the founder of the system was supposedly a renegade monk from the southern Shaolin Temple who had long white eyebrows. During the burning of the Shaolin Temple, five monks managed to escape, among whom were Bak Mei and Jee Shim, the teacher of the founder of Hung Ga style Kung-Fu. Some historians say that Bak Mei was a spy for the either the Ming Chinese or the Ching Manchus. So the records are not clear. Either way, Bak Mei went to Emei Mountain, which is famous in China as a major center for Taoist martial arts, and developed his Kung-Fu skills more, along the way fighting a lot of people. He eventually beat up fellow monk Jee Shim, who was among the five escapees, supposedly killing him. Keep in mind that these were two graduates of the Shaolin Temple, not just random priests that had an argument. A fight between two such men must have been a great display of high skill on both sides, but Bak Mei still ended as the victor, and he went on living as a vagabond. When Jee Shim's students found out about their master's death, they went off to exact revenge." From that point, the legends get more diverse, so I asked Chin about the modern, more verifiable history of his system.

Explaining the advent of his branch of the Bak Mei system to North America, Chin continues, "My master was Chin Bing-Hao, who was a Chinese soldier in Canton during the Sino-Japanese War and World War II. Cheung Lai-Chun, the most revered authority on Bak Mei in recent history, met him in Canton, and taught him there. After the war, he followed Cheung further, eventually working his way to Boston. Since Chin was a member of the Chinese Freemasons, that's how we hooked up with him."

Bak Mei training is not for the faint of heart though. In their Boston training club, there's a remarkably high turnover. Not a few black belts have dropped out of the school because the school's training is so hard. The school's work ethic is tremendous, but you'd never know it watching the beginning of class. But as soon as the training commences, the students work through an incredible routine, forcing them to master the basic techniques, which are all too often neglected by most school. Each punch, each stance, each kick, and each breath is repeated countless times with sharp focus, intent, and full power. Wayne Chin relates this to the club's "rough and tumble" origins: "We're all street fighters from the late '60's in Boston. All the core guys are not just a bunch of people who just randomly practice forms. We fought a lot, and we know very well what works and what doesn't. Think back, and you'll see that the late 1960's were right during the Vietnam years. Add to that, living in a predominately white area like Boston, and you've got lots of opportunity for problems to occur. Lots of racists came to talk trash to us, mistaking us for the VC. So we had the chance to see how Bak Mei's power works on a live opponent without a referee standing around to bail you out."

Watching them practice their hits, it's evident that a Bak Mei strike will lift you off your feet. The basic power is generated through breathing exercises known as "hei gung" in Cantonese. The body drops during inhalation, creating compression in power. At the same time as the inhalation, the fist or foot shoots out. So the compression of the body then pushes power into wherever the Bak Mei stylist wants to direct it - sort of like a water-filled balloon. When you push on one end of the balloon, the other end of the balloon juts out. Chin says, "It's the same with Bak Mei, so it's not just the fist that's hitting him. It's the total coordination of the body mechanics to produce maximum power. Body compression is really the key concept. There's no windup, no telegraphing. From any kind of body contact, we can drop our body down and compress our power, pushing you away hard. We can transmit power by dropping the hip, while other styles only bring the power up and out. We have both."

Torque is another big component of Bak Mei, and it comes into play with blocks and hits. The body torques to maximize penetration while simultaneously minimizing the surface area exposed to the opponent. Chin elucidates this concept with another analogy, "After dropping, you have to rise. And that gives you a chance to issue torque in the other direction. Think of holding a ball and dropping it. It goes down only so fast. If you slap the ball downward, it falls faster. Now, if you breathe in and compress the internal organs, it accelerates the dropping motion of the body. Before you drop, the body is soft, but then you're tense like steel at the bottom of the drop. This body drop is called 'duo yiu' in Cantonese. Strike penetration is something we spend a lot of time developing, and the body drop aids it immensely."

Sensitivity is also a necessary component of Bak Mei, teaching the practitioner how to find the right balance of his or her own tension and softness. Each person has to not only develop their own feel, but also develop it against a wide variety of opponents. However, unlike Wing Chun, which focuses a great deal of training on sensitivity, Bak Mei uses sensitivity as an added bonus. "We have the ability to just plow through an opponent if we so choose," states Chin. "If we can't get a good bridge, no problem. Our style is very well adapted to streetfigthing because of this. In Boston's wintertime, you can't get great sensitivity through a thick winter coat, but you can still jam the hell out of him with your own entry techniques and continue with power blows."

Donald Wong, another instructor, also explains that part of Bak Mei's power comes from being against nature because of its reverse breathing. "Most styles exhale when they punch," says Wong. "For all the sets, we breathe in to create body compression when we throw our fist out. It's totally opposite to the other styles. When we raise our body up, we exhale. It's contradictory to what almost everyone else is doing, and that gives us the kind of unrivalled power unique to Bak Mei."

You can reach Boston, Massachusetts-based Wayne Chin at manbrow@aol.com Mark Cheng is a contributing editor of Black Belt Magazine. You can reach him at MJCSifu@aol.com