Words by Suzanna Noort
Portrait by Viviane Sassen
Michele Aboro (37) started kickboxing aged 18 in South London and moved to Amsterdam in 1994 to pursue a professional boxing career. After becoming World Champion three times for kickboxing, Thai boxing and Western boxing respectively, her contract was terminated prematurely because she wouldn't make her appearance more feminine to suit the promoters. She now studies and works as an audio engineer in Amsterdam.
What was it like throwing your first punch at somebody's face?
Totally weird. And somebody throwing a punch at you is totally weird too. And you're not allowed to run out of the ring, you have to stay, which feels really weird because it's the total opposite of what your human instinct tells you to do.When I first hit somebody and they went down, it was really scary doing that to another human being with my own hand. So I grabbed her, saying, "Are you okay, are you okay?" It really petrified me, but I think my desire to be really good at boxing outweighed such freakish moments.
Do you get used to it?
You do.
Isn't that scary in itself?
It is. So it was very weird by the time I found it okay to hurt somebody. I rationalized it by saying to myself, "This is a grown human being, trained the same as I am, who knows exactly what they're getting into. It's not an animal, it's not somebody who's been forced into it." That's my rationalization to be able to hit that other person in the ring.
How do you cope with the pain of being hit?
Well, I'm very good at moving out of the way of things. That's the first thing I learned by watching people like Sugar Ray Robinson and Sugar Ray Leonard; all of these guys who were really quick movers, they hardly ever got hit. That was my essence as a fighter. I really hate being hit.
But you have been, I assume?
Yeah, I have been, of course. I've been cut and got a cracked nose and a broken rib, but that was mainly in training rather than during a fight because most of my training partners are men. They're a lot stronger and bigger, so by the time I got into the ring it wasn't such a battle. But boxing for women has only been legal since the late nineties so before then, when I wanted to train for boxing in England, I used to have to put on a big jacket and pretend I was boy. If they found out I was a girl they would have kicked me out of the gym.
What goes through your mind when you're in the ring?
I concentrate on not getting hit. Very focused. But there have been times when I'd look at my opponent and think, "She's cute, maybe we can go for a drink afterwards." A very bizarre thought at a moment like that. Yes, especially if you think that and then punch someone in the face. Yeah. But that didn't stop us having drinks together afterwards.
Did you ever get romantically involved with opponents?
Not with my opponents, no. We just had drinks.
How did your mum feel when you started boxing?
She thought I was crazy, but then she later said, "As long as it makes you happy," I have a very open-minded mum and she doesn't mind anything.
But how did she feel about seeing her daughter fighting in the ring?
My mum was very proud of me for what I was doing and she wanted to show that and supported me by coming to fights, but she'd never watch them. She'd stay in the back somewhere or put a programme over her eyes.
It was quite hilarious to see. The documentary about you, A Knock Out, explains that your contract was terminated because you didn't want to go for the glossy, feminine look for photo shoots, but I've seen shots of you in a dress with lipstick on – so they appear to have succeeded occasionally.
Yeah, I tried it a little bit, but I wouldn't do the topless shit.
Is that what they wanted?
They wanted me to be more feminine in my everyday life. I don't mind that for a photo shoot because that's a totally different ball game. I don't mind putting on make-up, I'm not scared of a dress. But in my everyday life, I'm not going to walk around in high heels and a dress and make-up because it's not the truth. Who wants to see me in Playboy? They'd be better off putting me in a lesbian magazine or something - ha ha. But no, it wasn't for me, I was a sports person…
But someone like Lucia Rijker, did she go topless?
She went topless in Rolling Stone.
So all the others succumbed to it?
They all have. It's sad but true. My bubble got burst.
Had you expected more from them? Were you friends with any of your colleagues?
Yeah. Actually, I lived with Lucia Rijker's parents for two years when I moved to Amsterdam. And she would come over to England when I lived there. We were very, very good friends and we still have contact now. But, yeah, it all depends on what you want. I mean, she's in Million Dollar Baby, and I don't want to be a movie star. I don't want to sell my soul for my bank account.
You think she's selling her soul?
I do, yeah. I think, if not, then you're a little bit more open about who you are. Let's leave it at that.
What did you want to be when you were little?
I wanted to be a jockey. I really did. I really like horses and horse riding and in my early teens my mum would send me to an aunty who had stables in the countryside. So I wanted to be a jockey but I never really fitted into that world. Being a woman and a jockey and gay and black. It would have been worse than boxing!
What does life after boxing look like for you?
I went back to school and decided to learn about sound – how it works, how it moves – and to start working with bands. In the back of my mind I always wanted to do something with sound, but when I was boxing I just had no time for anything so it never really came up. It was very weird - it was more of a ‘have to' rather than ‘want to' because of the whole thing with my contract. I was stuck in a predicament where I could either go to a smaller promoter, which I didn't want to do, or start a whole new career. So for myself I thought it was better to start something new. I never wanted to be a trainer or a coach. When I stopped boxing I needed a job really quickly, so I went to the Paradiso concert hall and they gave me work on the door. I'd done courses in security when I still lived in England – I'm a qualified bodyguard, so it was easy to get a job on the door. But it was something I never really liked doing.
Did you have bad experiences there?
Only once – somebody went to punch me in my face when I was trying to get them out. They were drunk and being obnoxious. I just don't think working on a door is any way to live your life, you know. You're uptight all the time, looking around. It makes you totally paranoid. If you kick somebody out, sometimes they want revenge. A couple of bouncers have been beaten up leaving from Paradiso by people they'd kicked out who came back with a bunch of friends and waited for them. Also, I just don't like to be that hard person on the door. A lot of the time I'm just too nice. If somebody comes along and they really want to go to the concert and they don't have a ticket, I'll let them in – and that's not really the point of working on the door, is it? So when I saw that they had some openings for a stagehand, I asked one of the directors and they said, "OK". So I worked on the door and was a stagehand for about half a year and then decided I'd like to go further and learn how to use the consoles and stuff and to mix the bands. So that's what I've started studying for.
Is it the technical side of sound or the music that attracts you?
Both. I like the technical side. I like to take a sound sample and make it into something it never was by using outboard equipment. I also really like working with musicians and having a great concert come out of it. It's a kick, a really nice feeling.
What kind of music do you listen to?
Soul, RnB, reggae and ragga. But also punk, ska and rock. And I like rockabilly and country and gospel too. I think every type of music has something.
What's in your MiniDisc right now?
RóisÃn Murphy from Moloko. She's solo now. I'm going to see her in Paradiso so I was just listening to that. It's a great album.
Do you miss London?
I miss the vibe of London. That stressy feeling, that fire you have in England, the pulse happening. People that I know in London, they all want to experiment, they want to strive and grab new things. Sometimes I find that here it's a little too laid back in a way; lethargic. That enthusiasm for life, to grab it and do the best you can with that moment, I miss that.
Which part of London did you grow up in?
I was born in West London, in Hammersmith, but when my parents separated when I was two we moved to Peckham in South London, which was like chalk and cheese. Peckham was quite a rough area but growing up there, I got used to it. It was in the newspapers for being a no-go area. The police didn't even want to go there. But I found it a really tight-knit family community. You knew everybody and everybody knew you and looked out for you, so I had a wonderful childhood there.
You moved there with your mum and brothers and sisters?
Yeah. My dad died when I was sixteen, so I never really met him. Well, I saw him again when I was fifteen and then he died within nine months so it was just like saying goodbye basically.
When did you know you were gay?
I must have been really young, about four or five. From the age of two I stopped wearing dresses. I refused to wear them and I always had this little girlfriend, we were husband and wife. I was the man and she was the woman and we used to kiss each other. It was very innocent and sweet but it was very genuine too. I still have contact with her today.
Is she gay?
No, she's straight, she's got four children. But we still have this big love for each other.
How long were you man and wife for?
For about five years, all the way through primary school. We'd sleep over at each other's houses and the dolly was our baby. We were really in love with each other but it wasn't a sexual thing - it was real, innocent, true love. My mum always said it was bizarre, but she never said anything like, "No that's wrong, you're a girl, you should be…" She was always like, "That's fine." That's what I really love about my mother.
But in your husband and wife relationship at that young age, I'm assuming you didn't yet understand the concept of being gay?
No, exactly.
So when were you conscious of possibly being gay and of the consequences that might have for your life?
When I was thirteen. There was a gay couple that moved into the area. They were so gay. One was a real butch, butch dyke and the other was quite feminine. I'd hear people saying, "Oh they're gay, they're lesbians," and that's when I realized that it could be a bad thing, that you could get into trouble because of it, because of loving somebody of your own sex. But before that, I never heard anyone talk about it or put it down. Most of my male friends in England are black Jamaican guys who are meant to be the most homophobic people on the planet but I have never been called a dyke or a lesbian or been put down about my sexuality. If I go over, my friends say, "You wanna stay at my house? Bring your girlfriend along." Maybe I'm just lucky with the people I have around me. It was only when these two women moved into the area that the word ‘gay' ever came up.
Was Amsterdam noticeably more gay-friendly than London when you moved here?
Well, Amsterdam had the illusion of being a lot freer. Maybe because of how small the city is and how easy it is to get around. Also, the people I met were mainly gay women whereas in London I have a lot of straight male friends.
Why did you have more straight friends in London?
I think it was mainly a coincidence. I like having straight male friends.
More than straight female friends?
Yeah, it gets a bit bizarre. You know, with straight female friends there always comes this time when they'd like to hit on you because you look boyish and in their head it's an easier thing to accept. They'd say to me, "The way you look and the way you are makes it much easier for me to be attracted to you than to a very feminine-looking woman." There was one girl, we were about eighteen, she was straight and we used to hang out a lot and then we got this kind of sexual charge happening between us and we had something going on. A couple of weeks later she said, "Oh no, no, no, no. I'm not gay, you know. This was just an experiment for me." This is what I find with straight women, they freak out a lot of the time.
Does being mistaken for a boy have its advantages?
Sometimes, yeah. I was in Morocco once with my Puck, my wife at the time. I had a much nicer time than she did. The people there thought I was man and took me to all the bazaars and the whorehouses. And they would bring girls back to the apartment – not to sleep with – but they would belly dance, things like that. Just the male side of Morocco that I was allowed to have a peek into. They dragged me along and showed me things that a foreign woman would never get to see.
Does being a world champion boxer help you pull?
I don't know. People will say to me, "You're the boxer!", but they don't ever say, "You're the boxer, will you sleep with me?" They always come from another angle. I think it does break the ice with a lot of people - especially with the documentary that came out.
And do you have a girlfriend now?
No, I don't.
What kind of girls do you fall for?
Looney Tunes, crazy bitches, haha. No, scrap that! I dunno, it's not a type. I think I go more for a person's being. I do like fiery people.
Do you think that gay people are becoming invisible again?
When you look at it like that, yeah. Because if you look at the younger generation of gay people, they are very non-descriptive. You'd never know they were gay. No, you bloody wouldn't, not unless you got out a gay detector or something. It's like they hide themselves from any kind of confrontation that they might have. Whereas me growing up, that was part of being gay, that was confrontation in a way, you know. I never wanted to hide who I was. I am happy with my sexuality. I wouldn't want to be straight just as I don't want to be a man, despite what some straight people think when they look at me. You have to be who you are. If you keep lying to yourself about your sexuality or about the way you look, or whatever, you really lose part of your being and that's sad.
Do you think there's an underlying reason for a lot of the younger lesbians to look so girly and straight?
Maybe it's a backlash from the older generation before them. It seems like there's an invisibility thing happening. You even get this thing happening over in the States with the young butch girls there taking hormones. Not for a sex change, but to pass as men. It's very much a trend. And over here, a lot of the younger gay girls are very straight-looking and try to pass…well, I don't know if they're trying to pass, but they are passing as straight girls. It's a bit bizarre. It's as if you don't want to hold on to your identity anymore, whilst that's the one thing you really do have, your identity.
Do you think there's anything wrong with the butch girls in America taking hormones?
No, I don't think there's anything wrong with it but I think visually they're trying to disappear in a way. At this particular moment in time, with the young gay girls being very straight-looking and young butch girls trying to turn themselves into boys, to me it's a bit too extreme - it's bizarre. It's like you're trying to get away from what you are.
No more room for playful gender-bending?
Exactly, and that's the nice thing about being gay, that you have this ‘thing'. You're a woman, maybe you look like a boy, but you are a woman. You can be a straight-looking gay girl but there's this ‘thing' about you so that people know you're a gay girl – but now it's like that ‘thing' is missing.
And at the same time, it's trendier than ever for straight girls to experiment with women…
Exactly, it all gets so confusing. But maybe I'm just getting too old for it, that could be it. Perhaps I should settle down and move to the countryside.