Patti Giggans - Peace Over Violence
Dedicated to the elimination of sexual violence, domestic violence and all forms of interpersonal violence
Listen to an audio clip from Patti’s story:
I consider myself a recovering Catholic. I’ve studied Judaism, and I’m a practicing Buddhist. But once a Catholic, always a Catholic. The Catholics grab you. They train you and they know how to scare you!
We were an Italian immigrant family, and we all lived in the same house. My parents were in the restaurant business, and they’d work till three in the morning, so my brother and I would go downstairs to sleep in my grandmother’s apartment sometimes. She had a crucifix in every room! I remember looking up at the nails in a human being and how scary that was. I think that put me on a path to figure out how not to be scared. It was a powerful mission! It led me into martial arts, and wanting to help other people feel safer.
Growing up in an Italian restaurant, I started working when I was eight. I don’t mean child labor; it was a family thing. I was a salad girl, and I wound up working in the restaurant through college. I grew up on Long Island with a lot of immigrant influences. The Italians lived in one neighborhood. The Blacks lived in another, the Jews lived in what were called the Five Towns. And then you had the Protestants, and the Catholics. Talk about hardworking! People were trying to make ends meet and you worked hard for the money that you made. I like to think that I had a multicultural experience growing up, but it was segregated.
My mother made a decision to move across the railroad tracks (literally!) to get out of the Italian neighborhood and the Black neighborhood so I could go to the elementary school that the Jewish kids went to, and get a better education. So I had a lot of Jewish friends, and we all had to figure out how to live with each other.
One Easter Sunday at church, when I was in seventh or eighth grade, the priest said, don’t ever forget that the Jews killed Christ and that they are your enemy. I walked out of that church and never went back. That set me to wondering. I’ve always been a seeker of sorts.
I went to college, the first in my family to do so, and my values were deeply influenced by the civil rights movement of the ‘60s. I became an adult, married a Black man, and experienced all the things that went with that. We’re talking the ‘60s. My ex, Jim, was Baptist, I was ex-Catholic. He said let’s get married in an Episcopal church because he loved pomp and circumstance. So he called an Episcopal church in New York City and made an appointment.
I walked in and the head priest was greeting me. Then he sees Jim behind me, who’s Black, and his face falls on the floor. He proceeds to bumble around about how he really can’t marry us because we’re of different religions. This is 1966, a lot of things like this were happening. I kept getting rejected. It made me ask, where do I belong?
I was so fortunate to have had a life with Jim. He was a foreign news correspondent, and we traveled all over the world. We traveled to Brazil, and we adopted our son from there. We lived in Vietnam for two and a half years when the war was winding down, and that’s where we adopted our daughter, who’s Vietnamese and Black. That’s also where I started practicing Taekwondo. Then we moved to Paris, and I started training in the Japanese style. I was the only woman in the class at the Dojo. I had a hard time with some of the guys in the class, but never with the sensei. He asked me, why are you the only woman here? Women stay one or two classes, and they leave. Why do you stay? I said, well, it’s not easy, but I stay because I see the benefit, and I think I have a hard head. He said, why don’t you start a class on Saturday mornings just for women?
I started the class for women, during the early days of the feminist movement. I could see blockages in their bodies. After class, I would go to a café with them and listen to them talk about their lives. It was illuminating to me. I wanted to teach women how to feel safer, and I wanted to provide an atmosphere for them to grow and learn about themselves.
When I came back to the states, I thought, I’m going to create a place where I can belong and invite others to belong with me. So I started Karate Women. My husband and I had separated, and we were going through divorce. Right around that time, the Los Angeles Commission on Assaults Against Women (LACAAW) came to me and asked if I would volunteer to help teach self-defense to women. So that’s how I got involved with the agency, and the movement. It’s also where I met Ellen, with whom I’ve been with now for more than 40 years, and with whom I adopted a third child, our daughter Ruby.
One of the things that I’ve learned is to think your own thoughts. Sometimes in movements, you’re supposed to think a certain way. Don’t say this, don’t do that. I’ve learned the power of not going along with the crowd. Be open to thinking out of the box. Don’t put yourself in a box, don’t put others in a box, don’t put your brain in a box. Read, talk to people, learn, study, grow and make room.
We’re afraid of being ostracized, of not being invited to the next meeting, that somebody’s not going to like what you said, and that means you don’t fit in. I come back to the practice of martial arts, staying connected to your body, and the awareness of your impact on other people. You have to be able to notice, what’s that look in a person’s eye? When we’re being reactive, we’re in our own adrenaline and cortisol, and we’re not necessarily paying attention to the other. That’s a big problem.
I’ve had good karate masters as my teachers. In my certification class, there were 99 men and me. I’m small, short. I learned to think, okay, I have to be brave now. It’s when we’re scared that we’re called upon to be brave.
The Buddha said, life is about suffering, but there’s a remedy. You can alleviate suffering. You have to practice being brave. You can think differently from other people. You can live a life that is not a carbon copy of what you’re supposed to be, and you can be okay.
What’s sustaining me now is my instruction to myself to stay steady. Our country has been through all kinds of things, but we’ve never been where we are now, with the entire structure of government being dismantled from within. It’s terrifying, so I’m trying to deal with that terror. I have conversations with myself so that I don’t go to doomsday. This is where meditation, long walks and poetry come in. I remind myself that life is about suffering, but our job is to relieve that suffering. So that’s what I am practicing now, trying to stay steady, but to stay alert and informed.
We have to have faith in the human spirit. I’ve had my life, my journey. I like what Gloria Steinem said when she was asked if she was going to retire. She said, I’m never going to pass the torch, I’m lighting torches. My granddaughter is so ripe and full of life. I don’t know if we can map it out for the kids coming up. I have to believe that they’re going to figure it out, as long as they can keep their joy. We have to have faith that they are going to find their bravery. There are so many paths.
I tell young people to travel as much as you can, experience another place, another culture, and read. Read literature, read biography, read the news. Become a lifelong learner. Find the things that make you happy and do those things. Balance the duties of life with the sublimity of life. I like Mary Oliver’s instructions for living: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it. And life is not meant to be a crumb!
Getting back to the beginning of our conversation, Catholicism put me on the path of wanting to be a good person. I’m grateful to the church for those teachings. In Judaism, the teaching about Tikun Olam, repair the world, what’s your contribution to make things better? And then with Buddhism, the practice of seeking understanding of yourself so you can get over yourself.
I don’t know where I would be without a sense of humor. I like to poke fun at everything. I enjoy seeing the spirit, joy, humor, fun, creativity in others, and cheering each other on. I enjoy making people laugh, and laughing with people. When someone has something important to say, celebrate it!!
Patti Giggans has been the Executive Director of Peace Over Violence (POV) for more than forty years. POV is a community based and volunteer centered organization that provides crisis intervention services, violence prevention education and public policy advocacy.
A black belt in karate, Patti founded Karate Women, the first martial arts school in Southern California, in 1976. She serves as a board member and past president of the Zen Center of Los Angeles, and sits on multiple boards and commissions, including the Sheriff Civilian Oversight Commission for the County of Los Angeles.
Patti is known informally among colleagues as our poet in residence. You can count her to open a gathering with the reading of a perfectly chosen poem. Patti can also make people laugh. One of the first bits of advice I learned from her is “When you tell people the truth, make them laugh or they will kill you.” I’ve learned so many things from her — about being brave, about the importance of showing up, about embracing joy even in the darkest times. But her ability to make people laugh is a superpower. It opens a door to belonging, and makes honest conversations possible. It’s the torch she passes along.
Patti lives in Los Angeles with her wife Ellen, her partner of 40 years, and their daughter and granddaughter. Patti and Ellen were married at San Francisco City Hall in February of 2004, one of 4,036 couples married during the first wave of gay marriage becoming legal.
Love these stories about fellow fellows! Thanks Claire. And Patti. Love saying you grew up in an Italian restaurant. I tell folks I grew up in a bowling alley. lol. The things that influence our lives and the Catholic Church .. stories can be told here!!! A great journey. Thanks for sharing it both words and deeds with so
Many of us.
What a fascinating and joyful person! Thank you.