Jennifer Casseta - The Art of Badassery : Unleash Your Mojo with Wisdom of the Dojo

The Art of Badassery

Unleash Your Mojo with Wisdom of the Dojo

Jennifer Casseta

Jennifer goes beyond showing women how to feel empowered. She shows them how to take action to protect their peace and their power. A must-read, especially if you want to enhance your ability to be your own superhero.

Shaun T, fitness motivator

Jennifer Cassetta is the master teacher of The Art of Badassery. This book is an empowering and inspiring step-by-step (or rather, belt-by-belt) guide to help you unleash your inner warrior and kick-start the black belt journey to your highest ambitions.

Kara Richardson Whitely, author of Gorge: My Journey Up Kilimanjaro at 300 Pounds (soon to be a movie)

There are books that talk about speaking up, unleashing your inner badass, and reclaiming your power, and then there are books that show you how to do it. The Art of Badassery shows you how to do it.

Jess Ekstrom, author, Chasing the Bright Side

As a mother, working hard to raise an empowered daughter, I was able to add some much-needed tools to my tool belt because of this book. It is not enough for us to tell our girls to be strong, but to empower them mentally, verbally, and physically without hesitation! A must-read as we fight for the next generation of girls to come.

Katie Wilcox, founder and CEO of Natural Model Management

For any woman who wants to find her inner badass, Jenn Cassetta knows the way! The Art of Badassery is a book we all need nowa time when its more important than ever to own your mind, your body, and your future. Jenn provides a dynamic, funny, down-to-earth road map to becoming who you were born to be, giving step-by-step instructions on how to heal, how to grow, how to thrive.

Dana Belcastro, film producer and black belt

Names and identifying characteristics of individuals have been changed to protect their privacy.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available through the Library of Congress

2022 Jennifer Cassetta

ISBN-13: 978-07573-2432-1 (Paperback)

ISBN-10: 07573-2432-0 (Paperback)

ISBN-13: 978-07573-2433-8 (ePub)

ISBN-10: 07573-2433-9 (ePub)

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

HCI, its logos, and marks are trademarks of Health Communications, Inc.

Publisher: Health Communications, Inc.

1700 NW 2nd Avenue

Boca Raton, FL 33432-1653

Cover design by Larissa Hise Henoch

Interior design and formatting by Larissa Hise Henoch

D o you feel like your confidence, your power, and your mojo have been drained, deflated, or youre just outright defeated? Have you been knocked down one too many times, and youre struggling to get back up with gusto? If so, my friend, you are in the perfect place. Even if youre feeling pretty badass already, youre still in the right place to level up. The Art of Badassery was created for you as a system to reclaim all of that precious power that may have been drained from you with every hit, loss, drama, trauma, or disappointment. I sourced this time-tested wisdom from martial arts and have used it in my keynotes and coaching programs with thousands of women who have gone from a life of blah to badassery. But first, let me tell you how I use this system in my own life.

In my early twenties, I was on my way to becoming an event planner until one day when my world turned upside down. It was a sunny Tuesday morning as I got onto the 6 Train toward downtown Manhattan to go to work. The event space where I worked had held its first event the night before, and I was excited to see my boss and hear how it went. As I neared Wall Street, the subway slowed and jerked a bit but finally let us off without a warning.

When I emerged from the subway, I looked up and saw the dark smoke billowing out of the World Trade Center. I was shocked and couldnt imagine what kind of accident could have done such damage. Everyone I passed on the street was pointing toward the ominous sight. When I walked three blocks to the corner of Rector and the West Side Highway, I saw a police officer staring up at the towers, sobbing. My heart sank. Even though I still had no idea what was happening, I knew it was bad.

I got to the building where I worked and spoke to the doorman. He told me I couldnt go upstairs because no one was there. They bombed the towers, he said, and the subways are shut down.

Where should I go? I shrieked. I was panicked and had no idea what to do. He shrugged and offered to let me use the phone in the lobby. Unsure who to call, I dialed my moms work number, a call I cant remember making to this day.

My mom tells me I called her and in a childlike voice told her there was a hole in the World Trade Center. And thats when the first tower fell, sending a swarm of people rushing into the lobby seeking shelter. The phone went flying out of my hands, and I was pushed into a utility closet with a bunch of strangers. Poor Mom just heard people screaming because the phone didnt hang up for several minutes. To her it felt like hours.

While Id love to tell you that I was the heroine of the story, comforting everyone and keeping them calm, I was not. I was paralyzed with fear and cried uncontrollably. A police officer told me to be quiet, and I remember thinking I was absolutely going to die in a closet with a bunch of strangers. Then a woman came over and put her hands on my shoulders. She asked me my name, and I told her. She said, Jennifer, Im Nancy, and you and I are going to get out of here today. Im pretty sure Id just met my guardian angel.

The officer made us all evacuate, concerned the building would collapse on top of us. Everyone scattered in different directions, and Nancy and I headed south. The ash was covering us like snowflakes, and we finally made it to 100 Broadway. There were people giving out masks and water, and for a few minutes we were okay. Shortly after the second tower fell, we had to evacuate 100 Broadway as well.

Nancy and I headed out again to find shelter. The martial arts school I had just started training at was nearby, and I figured we could go there to regroup. When we walked in, we must have looked like zombies, completely shell-shocked, and covered in dust. My instructors, Lena and Holly, were there, and for the first time that day I was able to exhale. I drank water, took a shower, and sat in front of a giant screen TV and heard for the first time what was actually happening in the world. Nancy took off soon after we arrived, and my efforts to try to find her since have been to no avail. (Nancy, if youre out there, thank you from the bottom of my heart.) I eventually made it uptown to my sisters apartment and then fled the city for a few days to unwind at my parents house.

Once I returned to the city, I didnt feel safe. The clanging of garbage trucks sent me jumping out of my skin, the roar of an airplane engine overhead would make me want to take cover, and fireworks had me in full-out panic attack mode. And yet, all that fear disappeared in the martial arts school where Id spend my days training. Wax on. Wax off. Follow the commands of the instructors. Kick, punch, sweat it all out, and end with some meditation. It was the best antianxiety medicine I could imagine. It was addictive but in the best way. That dojo became a source of safety and strength (aka,