QUEENS ON THE MAT
- Adrianna Donat
- Oct 9
- 6 min read
Women learn to be calm and confident through Brazilian jiu-jitsu
By Adrianna Donat
Walk into Sheridan Brazilian Jiu Jitsu in Vauxhall on Thursdays and Saturdays and you’ll see the usual suspects you might expect in a grappling gym: rows of tatami mats, partners circling for five-minute rounds, a coach calling time over the beat of old-school hip-hop.
Look closer and you’ll also see something that shifts the paradigm for most martial arts classes – more than 20 women lacing up, laughing between rounds and testing themselves in a sport long dominated by men. They call themselves the Queens of Sheridan BJJ, and yes, they have custom rash guards – pink logo, tiny gold crown and all.
Brazilian jiu jitsu (BJJ) is a ground-based grappling art that uses leverage, timing and body mechanics to control an opponent and finish with joint locks or chokes. There’s no kicking or punching. It’s like wrestling with submissions. Training partners can spar and “tap” to stop safely. Practitioners call it “the gentle art” because the emphasis is on control, not damage.
Sheridan Brazilian Jiu Jitsu is deeply rooted in SOMA. Owner Kevin Sheridan grew up in Maplewood, graduated from Columbia High School and opened the academy in 2009 in the same building that once housed his Rutgers Painting shop. The space has since expanded to include covered outdoor mats for fair-weather training – an airy setting where, on summer weekends, the Queens might roll, debrief and fire up a BBQ.
The movement has a Maplewood heart. Marco Hurtado, a 21-year resident who once spent his days in a corporate role at Pfizer, started training Brazilian jiu jitsu in 2013, at 44 years old. “I liked sparring and didn’t get enough of it in karate,” he says. “BJJ doesn’t do striking. It’s closer to wrestling. You can spar every class, safely, because you can tap to stop before damage occurs. It’s called ‘the gentle art’ for a reason.”
What began as stress relief became a calling. After being laid off during the pandemic, Hurtado leaned in. It was “the best thing that ever happened to me,” he says. He began teaching, then leading six to eight classes a week, earned his black belt in 2023 and today is one of the main professors at Sheridan.
What sets Sheridan apart isn’t just the instruction, it’s the culture. Class ends the same way every time: with a lineup and a moment of gratitude. There’s even a sign on the wall, “Be Grateful.” Students share what they’re thankful for: a kid who cleaned a room, a spouse who did the dishes or the weather finally breaking. “I’m not naturally touchy-feely,” Hurtado says with a laugh, “but I realized how much people needed that pause. It changes the room.”
Sheridan echoes the sentiment: “Jiu jitsu for me is connection and fun. People say ‘jiu jitsu is life.’ If you’re passive off the mat, it shows up on the mat. If you want to change that, start the change on the mats first and you’ll see it in the rest of your life.”
From the beginning, Hurtado and Sheridan were intentional about welcoming women. Partly, Hurtado says, because a room of only men “can get a little Neanderthalic.” Women temper the energy and raise the bar. Both men have daughters and believe functional self-defense should be part of growing up. And partly because diversity is just good business. “Once women started, they became their own marketing force,” Hurtado says.
He created a WhatsApp group, casually titled it Queens of Sheridan BJJ, and momentum took care of the rest. The group now spans teens to 40s, including students who arrive through boot camps, moms who followed their kids onto the mats or young professionals looking for a challenge. Mixed classes are the norm. Women spar with men of all sizes. The lesson baked into every round: leverage and technique over brute force.
For women, especially those new to contact sports, the first classes can feel daunting. “Many apologize constantly at the beginning,” Hurtado says. “They worry about seeming too aggressive. Then they realize aggression and kindness can coexist, that there’s a respectful way to go hard. Watching that switch flip is one of the best parts of teaching.”
Jessica Dickinson knows the arc. She started training with Sheridan about six and a half years ago, often as the only woman in class. Petite by any standard, competing at rooster weight (under 105 lbs), she struggled to find size-matched partners at first. “I was having to train at other academies just to find more women,” she says. Today, she’s a purple belt who assists the white-belt class and mentors new students. “As more women started to train, I realized how important it is for newer people to see other women on the mat, holding their own and even getting the best of the guys. Jiu jitsu really is for everyone.”
What keeps her coming back is as much mental as physical. “In jiu jitsu, it’s crucial to stay calm in bad positions and work step by step to something better,” she says. “That mental calmness helps me at work and in life. I can take a breath and remember: no one here is actively trying to choke me.” Her laugh is quick, but the point is serious. The mats become a classroom for composure.
Kristin Piccione came to BJJ “to challenge myself during a difficult time personally.” She expected practical self-defense, but what she didn’t anticipate was community. “BJJ is addictive and has tested me physically and mentally in ways I didn’t expect. I’ve trained in other states and countries, and I’m always welcomed. At Sheridan, I know I’ll find partners who help me improve and keep me safe so I can keep competing. The growth of the women’s program says a lot about the gym’s culture in a male-dominated sport.”
Arianna Javate says the sport has transformed her. “There are so many benefits,” she says. “The physical health and the mental health are most important to me. Training has made me feel assured and confident. It’s given me skills to handle difficult, stressful situations – on the mat and in my career. The discipline has also helped me become more physically fit, transforming both my body and my mind.”
Hurtado politely dismantles the idea that a two-hour self-defense seminar can change your life. “Under stress, you do what you’ve trained,” he says. “If you haven’t built muscle memory under real resistance – if you haven’t felt the fight-or-flight response – you’re unlikely to recall techniques when you need them.”
BJJ’s key is live, frequent sparring in a controlled environment. You learn how to breathe when someone larger sits in mount (on your chest). You learn the sequence: frames, hips, escape. “Our mentor says, ‘Become comfortable in uncomfortable situations.’ That applies in self-defense and everywhere else,” Hurtado says.
Culture starts at the top, but the Queens now lead from within. Hurtado recently asked Dickinson
to take point for the group. The crew organizes women-only open mats when they can, but most training is mixed. The vibe shifts with the instructor’s playlist – ’80s hip-hop, Chicago house, Brazilian funk. If the Queens walk in en masse, maybe a little early-2000s club.
Rounds are five minutes apiece, partners switch every buzzer and you’re never stuck
with just one person. Between rolls, there’s the kind of laughter that shows up only when people are pushing hard and having fun doing it. Hurtado is clear about his invitation to women in Maplewood and South Orange: It’s not too late to start and you don’t have to “get in shape” first. That’s what practice is for.
The school’s boot camps offer a gentler on-ramp, “like a highway entrance,” he jokes, “not turning onto Route 22 at rush hour.” Once you’re on, the Queens will meet you where you are. They’ll pair you with a partner, answer questions and help you find your feet.
“We know how to train people safely and make it fun,” he says. “That’s non-negotiable.” As for what’s next, Hurtado wants Sheridan BJJ to keep growing – more women, more teens flowing into adult classes and ultimately women-only classes on the regular. But growth for its own sake isn’t the point. The point is the same one on the wall: gratitude. For the workout, for the round you survived or for the one you lost but learned from. For the Queens, who changed the room
simply by showing up and staying. If you peek through the door on a Thursday night and hear early-aughts club music, you’ll know they’re in session. Look for the pink logo with the tiny gold crown. Then look again at the strong, focused and relaxed faces. This is what it looks
like when a community decides the mat belongs to everyone.
Adrianna Donat is a freelance writer and real estate agent. By day she negotiates
offers, by night she negotiates sentences.
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