Roller Derby: Experiencing Empowerment and Community
Roller derby is an extraordinary and unforgettable experience. Many women and men find roller derby at different points in their lives for different reasons. Regardless, of how we came to play or why we play derby, it is consuming, empowering and leaves a positive permanent mark on our lives.
To say this is my story would be a lie. Roller derby is more than a team sport. It’s a community of women and men from all walks of life. It’s inclusive, tougher than any of us could have imagined, a sport that changes us and connects us for life.
My inner woman has always been bigger and better than who I am in real life. I’ve been called a perfectionist, anal, book smart and street stupid, you get the point. To some people, that’s all I am. Inside me, I know I’m more than that.
I found derby when my perfect marriage suddenly wasn’t perfect anymore. The rough around the edges man who was a perfect husband to me suddenly wasn’t so perfect. I crashed. I attempted suicide.
Internally I was dying and in search of finding a way to better myself. I went to Weight Watchers because; you know, being skinny solves all your problems. Right? It didn’t make me feel better even after losing 70 lbs.
One day in a Weight Watchers meeting we were talking about adding exercise or a sport to our routines. Not just any sport, but one that excited us and made us want to exercise. All of a sudden roller derby popped into my head. I don’t even know how it popped into my head. I wasn’t even sure it was a real sport.
I went home, started researching roller derby and found a league about an hour away looking for “Fresh Meat.” I went to their meet and greet and the next thing I knew I was plopping down a few hundred dollars for skates and gear. Every Friday I was going to open skate where I met other derby skaters and perspective fresh meat, like Jen.
Jen was an amazing woman. She was nice to everyone, had two beautiful children and a disabled veteran for a husband. I couldn’t skate and was constantly falling painfully on the rink. Jen taught me how not to fall on my ass. She was the first of many derby friends I would make.
That’s the thing about derby. You’re never alone. There are always people there who help you because they want to see you succeed.
Throughout the weeks between the meet and greet and the start of fresh meat I met other experienced players and newbies. The more experienced skaters taught us how to skate, do crossovers, and other important skills.
Finally, it was time to start fresh meat. The Bay State Brawlers was a huge league with over fifty members. To say it was intimidating to walk into a rink full of slutty and sporty dressed skaters who were warming up, speed skating, doing crossovers, practicing hits, and working on foot work, is an understatement. At the same time, it was exhilarating.
Everyone made us fresh meat feel welcome. Then our trainer told us to go to the end of the rink where we stood while she put cones on the floor and then loudly announced to the experienced skaters that if they crossed the cone line, they would get herpes.
Shortly after our trainer left us for the Boston Derby Dames and that’s when I met my first derby hero, Sarah Gauvin, a.k.a. Katherine Hipburn. Sarah, like me, came to derby when her marriage was in trouble. She was divorcing and, wanted to do something unexpected. Derby was that experience that allowed her to find herself. She’s an amazing trainer who likened t-stops to being the bad guy in a horror moving dragging their foot behind them. She was the queen of empowerment and derby skill. All us fresh meat looked up to her.
Like the rest of my group, I made it to level one, and we skated with the experienced skaters. Leveling up is where my lack of athleticism started to show, and I fell behind. Others in my group quickly became level two and started to learn contact skills. I was left behind trying to learn core skills.
That was the most frustrating part of playing roller derby. I was not as fast a learner as everyone else. I had someone mention to me that I might consider becoming a referee because not everyone is cut out to be a player. Her comment only drove me more.
I started to ask for more help and advice on Fridays at open skate. Michael from the Mass Maelstrom helped me with form and speed. He never seemed to stop skating as he slowed up to me, say what he noticed about how I was doing a particular skill and what I could do to improve it. Then keep skating and chatting with others on the floor.
That’s the thing about derby. You’re never alone. There are always people there who help you because they want to see you succeed. When it comes to roller derby, the majority of the players want to see you succeed.
My friend, Jill “Deb Owchery” Gurney, would skate with me at local parks and take me to the gym. She was a brutal assessor but exactly what I needed. She was a driving force behind my attaining level two and continually succeeding at derby goals.
Working through derby skills gave me head time. Derby wasn’t my only demon, but it was my cure. As I was learning derby skills, I was also developing life skills. Roller derby became a healthy outlet for dealing with personal issues and making new friends.
Friends like Stiletto Stalker, I loved watching her skate. Like me, Stiletto is not a tiny ripped player. She’s a curvy, tough woman who’s amazing on skates, and stunning in stilettos. She and I first made conversation over a pair of studded stilettos I was wearing.
Derby is just as much about making friends as it is becoming an amazing team of hard training, tough bouting athletes. This is why it was hard when Stiletto Stalker left. Like many teammates she was a working single mom with a new job, hectic life and let’s face it, getting a babysitter on a Wednesday night or Sunday evening is not an easy thing to do. It was still hard to lose her because you spend so much time with your league-mates that they start to feel like a second family.
There’s more to derby than practice and bouts. Whether you realize it or not roller derby requires leadership, money, fundraisers, committees, bouts, coaches, referees, managers, non-skating officials and dedicated players to volunteer for all these jobs. We spend a lot of time together. In support of bouts, I did liaison work, security, various non-skating official jobs, and coordinated food for Worcester Roller Derby’s annual All Eight On the Floor tournament.
Becky L. used this need for beyond athletic service to make her mark and become an indispensable league-member. Like me, Becky took the slow route to her first bout. She took her time moving up in the levels but was always there to help out with an infectious smile and positive attitude. Where I bitched about my struggles, Becky was happy with each improvement she made and the pace at which she was making them. It made me feel good, to see myself improving, she said. She stuck to it and helped out with scrimmages and bouts making herself an integral and respected member of the league because she took advantage of the fact that she could do more than just play. She was the go to woman who was always there.
Worcester Roller Derby which was a much smaller league, had the time to give me the extra attention I needed to succeed as an athlete. I met some amazing people and skaters in WoRD. Smaller does not mean a weaker a team. These women were driven to win. Their coach, Bronco, was a force to be reckoned with. As a former skater, football player and coach of girls basketball she knew how to get results.
It wasn’t just Bronco that helped me succeed though. It was a team effort. Being a small league, it’s in the team’s best interest to grow each skater. They pushed me to be a better skater. Every practice was a little improvement here and a little improvement there.
After just a year with WoRD and almost two years after I started my adventure in roller derby, I was ready for my first B-team bout as a Warhead. As less skilled I didn’t play much. My brief time on the track only made me more determined to practice more and develop better skills.
The following year I got my first MVP against my former league BSB. It felt great, and it was also the last bout I have ever played. I look back on it with pride and sadness. At the time I didn’t know it would be my last. I didn’t know that I was going to miss derby or the extent to which the separation is difficult.
My husband and I made a sudden decision to move from Massachusetts to Georgia before the next season. Eventually, I found the Savannah Derby Devils and practiced with their wRECK league. The move, a new home, new job, getting settled and life, in general, left me needing time to decompress. I took a leave of absence with the intent to return to the next wRECK league.
About two months after my last practice with the SDD I was hit by a car while riding my bike. I didn’t give up, and my love for derby kept me fighting my body in hopes that I could return to playing again. Almost two years after the accident I have accepted defeat. My heart breaks because I miss the camaraderie and the tough as nails style of practice and playing. I miss feeling important when I volunteer to help out at bouts.
There are, however, two things that I don’t miss. I don’t miss the drive to succeed and keep trying. I will have that forever. I also don’t miss my former skating buddies. So instead of HIIT, I do yoga. Instead of running, I power walk. Soon I’ll be learning to paddle board and who knows maybe I will return someday, maybe when I’m fifty. I’m not worried. I have derby for life friends who’ll keep me updated on what new rules I have to learn, the new skill requirements, who’s the hottest player on the track, and all the after-party gossip.
