This Woman’s Place Is in the Ring

One of the most successful boxers to come out of La Colonia Boxing Club has won four world championships, yet very few people know her name.

That’s right: her name.

Professional boxer Marischa Sjauw (pronounced Shaw) trains at the converted fire station, which has produced such male champions as Fernando Vargas and Robert Garcia.

The 29-year-old Sjauw currently holds the lightweight (135-pound) world title for the International Female Boxers Assn. She has previously held three other world titles in various weight classes.

Sjauw, whose record is 18-5-1, hopes that training at the club will help bring more recognition for herself and more respect for her emerging sport.

It’s a sport that Sjauw, who was born in the South American country of Suriname and raised in the Netherlands, didn’t set out to conquer.

The youngest of seven children, she had to hold her own against five older brothers. “You have to be stronger,” Sjauw said.

As a girl, she played soccer and participated in martial arts. When she was 19, she joined her brothers at a local gym, looking for a good conditioning workout.

“I never went in there to start as a fighter,” Sjauw said. But, she added, “I think I became a bit addicted. I was always in the gym.”

She began fighting professionally in 1991, then quit in 1995 after winning a European championship.

For the next few years, Sjauw worked as a secretary and her husband and boxing manager, Marcel Niessen, became a prison guard.

But in 1998, the couple sold their 250-year-old home in the Netherlands and came to the United States so she could attempt a boxing comeback.

After spending some time in Las Vegas, the couple met former boxer Alex Ramos, who recommended La Colonia in Oxnard.

Sjauw took to the small, community club immediately.

Having a woman train there “was new for them, but they accepted it,” Sjauw said. “It’s a warm home gym.”

However, while most of the men at the club didn’t mind a woman training there, fighting her was another story, said club trainer Marco Contreras.

“It was a little difficult to get some of the guys sparring with her,” Contreras said.

While some men feared they would injure her, others didn’t want to risk the possibility of getting beaten by a woman, he said.

But the guys eventually came around, Sjauw said.

Plus, “they have to do what the trainer says,” she said. “We train together, so I really like that they treat me the same.”

Women’s boxing is in many ways similar to men’s. Depending upon the boxers and the venues, championship matches can draw up to a few thousand fans to witness 10 rounds of two minutes apiece, one minute shorter than in men’s matches.

But because the sport has limited popularity, fighters do not enjoy the multimillion-dollar paydays of their male counterparts.

“It doesn’t support us at all,” Sjauw said. “My achievements are not making a bunch of money.” For example, the winner of a recent world championship fight took home a purse of just $3,000.

Sjauw and her husband have relied on assistance from friends, their savings and the sale of boxing novelties to finance her career.

As women’s boxing struggles for acceptance and fans, Sjauw dismisses big-name fighters such as Mia St. John and the daughters of various male champions as mere novelty acts.

While they help promote the fledgling sport, their lack of real fighting skills could turn off some fans and do more harm than good, Sjauw said.

Tom Eaton, president of Femboxer Inc., an organization that promotes and keeps statistics on women’s boxing, compares the sport to women’s soccer. Professionals will start getting respect once the sport makes it to the Olympics and lures sponsors, a fan base and serious media attention, Eaton said.

“You could look at [Sjauw] as a pioneer, a person who’s paving the way for generations yet to come,” he said.

But being a champion before the sport fully develops comes at a price, Eaton said. “She will never see major paydays in five or six figures,” he said.

She’s a contender, though, he said.

“She’s always fought tough competition,” Eaton said. “I don’t think she’s ever fought badly.”

For her part, Sjauw focuses on workouts and training, Contreras said. “She is just a brawler,” he said. “She likes to go in and throw punches.”

While her siblings now support her boxing career, her parents are less enthusiastic about their youngest child beating up women for a living.

“They never liked it,” she said.

Sjauw now splits her time between Berlin and Oxnard.

Training at La Colonia “was the best thing we did,” Niessen said. “It’s an environment where you have to feel confident.”

For the weeks before a recent bout, Sjauw focused even harder on boxing. Every morning she ran 30 to 60 minutes, and every afternoon she trained and sparred at La Colonia.

Until she weighs in before a fight, the 28-year-old Niessen keeps her on a strict protein diet that minimizes fat, salt, sugar and carbohydrates. Sjauw also drinks a gallon of water a day.

But once she hits her weigh-in weight--143 pounds in her last fight--she goes in search of the cinnamon rolls and breads that she has denied herself for so many weeks.

“After that, it’s party time,” she said.

In the hours before a fight, Niessen paces nervously while Sjauw calmly listens to music on her Walkman. She said she never feels any tension when she enters the ring.

“Every fighter is beatable,” Sjauw said. “Every champion can be beat.”