Maxine

Some call us barbaric. Sadist. Fighters. Warriors. We are particularly insane to fight until one of us is defeated and one of us get crowned as the winner or given the title; champion. We are badass warriors, strong and legendary. Move with stealth and agility on our feet, use our body to our full advantage, and train ourselves to be quiet during a storm. We don’t fear blood, broken bones and bruises. Maybe we have a bit of barbaric adrenaline pumping through our veins. And maybe our voices get heard after so many times we got turned down and ignored. A proven fact that we can do anything when we put our minds to it.  The cage is our podium. The crowd is our willing guests listening to our war cry through our fists. My eyes flickered through the crowd, watching them cheering my name after I knocked out my opponent in the third round. The drumming of their feet and applause of their hands are the gateway to my heart. A sense of my passion got overwhelmed by so many. Maybe I wasn't yet a champion or the fan-favourite but just a little encouragement and my world felt right. The broken cracks in the walls replenished, which silenced the bad voices. I am Maxine Cane, the daughter of the two best fighters this world has ever seen. An undefeated world champion and a wildcat legend who opened doors for women all over the world. I'm standing in the cage, my arm being raised into the air by the officials, announcing me as the winner. My heartbreak fades including the bad voices. To the world, I seemed happy but deep down I was drowning in my own sorrows and the only thing keeping me alive was the use of my fists.