Fight Like a Girl

A few days ago, a courier called to tell me that the large moving boxes I’d ordered online had arrived.

“Just leave it by the door,” I replied.

“There are too many deliveries today. I’ll drop yours off at the gate of your complex. You can come pick them up there.”

I refused. The main gate is a few hundred meters from my apartment, and doorstep delivery was literally what the logistics company promised. I got annoyed when he tried to argue, and I cut him off, “Call me back later. My husband will talk to you.” Then I hung up. Sure enough, he never called again. Later, I found my package lying by the door.

I don’t have a husband. But what does this have to do with Ballerina?

Ballerina2025

I stumbled on the movie one day out of boredom, and it was already on VOD. I’ve never cared much for action films; it’s a genre that men have dominated for far too long. So I expected another action flick using the female perspective as a marketing gimmick—you know, the kind that sells itself on the hook of female revenge, but turns out to be just about a pretty woman in slotted into a gunfight template meant for men: beautiful and lethal. End of story. They may be fun to watch, but they offer nothing deeper. Yet, to my mild surprise, there were moments when the film really resonated with me.

Right from the outset, it laid out its theme in no uncertain terms. During judo training, Eve (Ana de Armas) was defeated by her opponent again and again.

Her coach asked her, “Why did you fail?”

She answered, “He’s too strong.”

The coach then said, “Do you really believe that strength has anything to do with whether you win or lose? You will always be weaker. You will always be smaller and at a disadvantage. He is beating you because you are allowing him to define the terms of the contest. You want to win? Change the terms. Improvise, adapt, cheat. Lean into your strengths, not his. Fight like a girl.”

I nearly applauded, not because it was some groundbreaking line, but because it reminded me of something I’ve slowly come to understand over the past few years: women shouldn’t—and can’t—play by the rules men set. If we can’t win them, we change the rules; if we can’t change them, we cheat our way out. If we lack brute force, we use emotions, intuition, tactics, the setting we’re in or their underestimation to turn the tables.

After watching Ballerina, I scrolled through the reviews. When I saw so many men complaining that its action sequences weren’t “pretty enough” or “as sleek and fierce as John Wick,” I couldn’t help laughing. What they seemed to want wasn’t a female warrior, but a sexy killing machine to fulfill their fantasies. Unfortunately for them, the film didn’t deliver that—so in a way, it succeeded.

I also spotted a male viewer who, on the surface, praised the movie for its different style and atmosphere, which added “fresh fun to the John Wick formula.” But in reality, this was what he was insinuating: these tricks only work for women; if a man tried this, it’d look ridiculous. That kind of “compliment” is the go-to mantra of almost all self-proclaimed progressive men. They incessantly reiterate, “I support women’s rights,” and lavish praise like “You’re just so special.” Men pay such compliments to women under the assumption that they’ll always be fringe players.

I don’t want to frame everything through the lens of female audiences which never fails to stir up gender-based conflicts at every turn. But that’s my reality. I live in a society where women still face systemic oppression, where 99% of those in power are men. Recently, a female college student was expelled and publicly shamed by a dozen news outlets over her private life after her personal affairs were paraded online. Meanwhile, a man caught soliciting sex has his privacy fiercely guarded. Who, then, can you expect to speak up for you?

Once, I took a taxi driven by a man who treated me with utter disrespect. I silently endured his harassment throughout the 40- to 50-minute ride. That insufferable incident trapped me in anger and resignation for a long period of time. And now I deeply regret keeping quiet back then. Not that I should’ve confronted him then—there have been cases here where drivers hurt women. But I should’ve reported him afterward.

Now, whenever I’m walking alone and get hit by a faceful of cigarette smoke—almost always from guys—I’ve learned to confront them, “Who’s smoking? It stinks!” They sometimes sheepishly step aside, not because they’ve been taught manners, but because they’re embarrassed.

And the same applies to couriers. I asked my dad, and he shared that his parcels have always been delivered to the door. But in my case, they’ll almost always ask me to collect them downstairs. What can I do? So, I’ve learned to direct them to my non-existent husband. Since I can’t change their lack of respect for women, I shall weaponize their fear. It’s not a graceful tactic, but it works.

Honestly, Ballerina isn’t a great film, and it’s unlikely to top any must-see lists for women, even when ranked among other action movies. And let’s be real: most of its audience is probably male fans chasing the John Wick thrill. Their admiration for a female assassin is no different from admiring a female trophy. Still, certain moments in the movie resonated with me, so I’m glad I took the time to write about it. I hope there’ll be more action films made for women—for those like me who struggle with, adapt to, and fight against men in everyday life.

And instead of a female version of John Wick, we need a new aesthetic where women aren’t condemned for not putting up a pretty fight. Because in real life, fighting like a girl is already hard enough. It’s not a choice. It’s the only way out.