women, menstrual blood, and T.K.O.s, and women were banned from entering a boxing ring. Today, women do fight professionally, but not at Lumpini or Rajadamnern.

In 1998, the celebrity boxer Parinya Kiatbusaba—he was one of Thailand’s numerous transvestites—refused to take off his underwear for a weigh-in at Lumpini. Since Kiatbusaba made weight even in his underwear, the management eventually let him into the ring. Wearing his trademark red lipstick, Kiatbusaba easily defeated his opponent and then kissed him on the cheek. Kiatbusaba had become a boxer because it was the only way that he could earn enough money to achieve his lifelong dream: sex-reassignment surgery. After the surgery was performed, in 1999, he, too, was banned from the major stadiums.

Kiatbusaba’s situation reminded me a bit of Bunkerd’s. From earliest childhood, Kiatbusaba wanted to be a woman, despite his body; from earliest childhood, Bunkerd wanted to be a boxer, and this, too, was despite his body.

Bunkerd’s physique resembles not that of a lion but that of a lion statue, with a large head and a compact body. This is the wrong build for Muay Thai, the ideal being that of the retired champion Diesel Noi, who is six feet tall and fought at a hundred and thirty-five pounds. Bunkerd, who is five feet three and looks healthy and well proportioned at his non-fighting weight of a hundred and forty pounds, had to starve himself in order to become a champion. Throughout Bunkerd’s career, most of his opponents have been taller than he. One afternoon at the gym, I saw him sparring with five of his larger students, one by one, three rounds each. It was astounding to see these enormous men, in protective helmets and mouth guards and shin guards, flying to all corners like discarded robots while Bunkerd stood in the middle of the ring, cheerfully wiping blood from his nose and displaying no sign of fatigue or ill humor.

Later, Bunkerd lent me a videotape of his three consecutive matches against the Moroccan-Belgian fighter Bilam Nesradine. The first fight, for the I.S.K.A. Intercontinental title, took place in August of 1995, at Table Mountain Casino, near Fresno. Bilam, like many European fighters, favored fancy, karate-style high kicks and spins. For the first round—known by Thais as “garbage time,” because it is typically used for observation rather than action—Bunkerd made no offensive moves, dodging kicks, hopping from one foot to the other, and hiking up his little white trunks. When Bilam managed to land a blow, Bunkerd nodded approvingly. In the second round, when Bilam came at him with a high right kick, Bunkerd seized his leg mid-a ir and knocked the standing leg out from under him. He repeated this sequence several times, blocking, evading, or grabbing Bilam’s kick, and landing a low kick or knee. Bilam was taller than Bunkerd, with longer arms, and more skilled as a boxer, but Bunkerd was better at kicking. Bilam began dancing backward, stalling for time. Bunkerd trotted after him, chased him into every corner of the ring, and kicked him in the leg. Bunkerd won the title by majority decision.

The rematch took place two months later, again at Table Mountain. In the second round, Bilam landed a textbook uppercut to Bunkerd’s chin. Bunkerd’s head flipped backward in an undignified posture—which, however, he promptly turned to his advantage. Lowering his gloves, Bunkerd gestured at his own head, moving his lips. “Go ahead!” he was saying. Bilam pummelled Bunkerd with two uppercuts and several hooks; Bunkerd’s head bobbed eerily to and fro, his face wearing a vacant expression. Suddenly, Bunkerd sprang back into action, leaping at his opponent with a flying knee to the chest. The audience went wild. “Wherever he goes, Bunkerd is an instant cult hero,” the announcer said. Bunkerd lost a point for an illegal knee to the head (“I think he just forgets,” the announcer opined), and the match was scored a draw.

“One more! One more!” Bunkerd cried, holding up one finger, meaning that there would have to be another rematch. He threw his arms around Bilam’s neck, reached up to pat his head, and then, from an excess of joy, kneed him in the ribs. Bilam smiled gamely but looked as if he didn’t really want another rematch.

But Bunkerd got his way, and the third fight took place in San Jose in the spring of 1997. Early in the fourth round, Bilam landed an almost comi

Next page >>