Pushing Tai Chi

World Tai Chi and Qigong Day is on April 26th in 2025. This annual celebration has been observed in nearly 80 countries since 1999. In honor of WTCQD, Staff Writer Gene Ching examines the practice of tai chi pushing hands. 3 min. read.

FLASHBACK: It’s some year prior to the pandemic and I’m ringside at one of the San Francisco Bay Area’s longest standing martial arts competitions, U.C. Berkeley’s Chinese Martial Arts Tournament, or CMAT (see-matt) as it’s affectionally known by locals here. I’m standing next to an acquaintance, a tai chi teacher, and we are watching the pushing hands bouts. One of the competitors, possibly his student, just got shoved to the ground on his butt.

“That’s not tai chi,” he says in disgust. “He didn’t follow tai chi principles. Might as well be sumo…”

I raise an eyebrow and look at him sideways. I get what he’s saying but what occurred was well within the rules. Something my coach, Maestro Michael D’Asaro, told me back when I fenced NCAA under him – know the rules. So many martial artists, especially Chinese stylists, neglect thoroughly examining the rules prior to competing. While most Chinese martial arts tournaments abide by similar rule sets, there is always some variation, and it’s a grievous error to assume that the rules will accommodate your individual manner of practice. The rules governing competitive tai chi pushing hands can be quite different from the practice of it. My acquaintance tai chi teacher expected the rules to meet his ideals, but if he had bothered to read them beforehand, he would not have been so disappointed.

What’s more, sumo is a noble, respectable art. To imply that it is somehow lesser than pushing hands demonstrates a fundamental misunderstanding of what sumo is. It’s principles can be applied to any manner of grappling and wrestling, from MMA to pushing hands. The massive girth of sumo champions makes it easy to ridicule but imagine what it would be like to face one of those athletes in a bout of pushing hands.

Nevertheless, I do understand where that tai chi teacher was coming from. Dr. Yang, Jwing-Ming echoes this sentiment in his authoritative book Tai Chi Push Hands with David W. Grantham:

“When discussing the concept of pushing hands we often envision two individuals engaging in an exercise where one is attempting so find the other's center of gravity (i.e. physical center) and push them off balance. In some cases, the tendencies of aggressive behavior evolve into a competitive interaction between the two individuals, and unfortunately the essence of taiji pushing hands becomes lost, with one person winning the match through use of force. Pushing hands practice involves the application of taijiquan theory and basic movements into matching actions with a partner.”
Tai Chi Push Hands by David W. Grantham and Dr. Yang, Jwing-Ming Page 2

The distinction between Dr. Yang’s exercise and pushing hands competition lies within the context and intention. In the context of practice, the intent is to apply that essence of tai chi – that soft power – and not use force. In competition, the intention is to win. Tai chi ‘essence’ is too subjective to judge fairly within the context of a competition. There is no consistent observable measure beyond opinion, and that does not work impartially. Consequently, judges look to the obvious. They judge against whoever falls on their butt. And they aren’t in a position to decide whether that fall was the result of a forceful push. How can ‘forceful push’ be clearly defined by the rules?

With its safety rules, tournament competition is far removed from street fighting, but that ‘reality’ context shifts the intention too. The intention in a street fight is to survive. You can use all the tai chi ‘essence’ you want but if it can’t absorb a big sudden shove, which is exactly how many street fights start, does it really work on the street? When push comes to shove, if you are participating in a tournament or assaulted on the street, practice time is over. You’re going to come head-to-head with massive unrestrained force. If your pushing hands is up to snuff, you can absorb and deflect it. If not, you’ll have to resort to countering with force. The alternative is going down.

In the context of tournaments and street fights, sumo is far more practical than tai chi pushing hands. When you can deflect the shove of a 6+ foot 325+ pound opponent, that’s some real skill. And remember, Grandmaster Yang, Cheng-fu, the third-generation inheritor of Yang tai chi, was a big man whose size approached those physical proportions.

Nowadays, too many tai chi schools make the grave error of being too insular. They may include a lot of push hands in their curriculum, but if it can’t stand the test of a sumo shove, its viability as an applicable martial art is questionable.

Nevertheless, tai chi has evolved to be much more than just competing and fighting. It has become a method of physical therapy, an instrument in fall prevention, a much-needed form of stress relief, a moving meditation and more. Those are all valid forms of self-defense. The adversary is old age instead of some street thug. Many of us will never have to engage in a real fight and that’s a blessing. But most of us will live to our autumn years, and that’s when tai chi essence really begins to shine. For many elderly practitioners or patients in therapy, pushing hands is out of the question, and there’s no shame in that.

Regardless, every earnest tai chi practitioner must have a fundamental understanding of what pushing hands is, and what it is not, to maintain an authentic practice. That doesn’t mean they have to compete, but at the very least, they must engage pushing hands and understand how it benefits form practice. When practiced properly, it helps to cultivate that tai chi essence we all seek in the art.

The above is an original article by Gene Ching, Staff Writer for YMAA Publication Center.