They Tell Me There Is No Crying in Derby

Wow, it has really been a while. Perhaps this is because in the course of about thirty days, my derby world has been turned upside down. This month, my team battled the Smashinistas. This game was, to say the least, very intense because winning guaranteed our spot in the Championship bout. I don't know if we felt over-confident or over-pressured by the potential victory, but something went wrong that night. We lost to the Smashinistas by twenty points.

Those twenty points turned me into a mess. After the game ended and we had given the Smashinistas their well deserved congratulations, I skated around the rink feeling terribly dissapointed...and ended up crying.

There is no crying in derby!

At least, that is what I told myself as I stood on the rink after the game, looking pathetic and trying to sign autographs for all the fans who probably thought I had gone crazy. This wasn't just a sniffle or two, but a full blown, snotty, snivelly mess of tears that wouldn't stop. I put Hilary Clinton to shame that night.

This sappy reaction was not typical for me; usually I accept the results and enjoy the fact that for a few hours, I got to engage in play with very talented women. After this game, however, I felt a deep sense of personal dissapointment...like maybe there was something I could have done to score those points. Over the course of that night, I did the "right thing" and continually reminded myself that I skated as well as I could have for that game; there was no point in analyzing what could have been; I would just have to push myself to do better next time.

So that should be the end of it, right? Well, sort of. The next morning I woke up and checked my messages only to realize that one of our best jammers had decided to retire! I won't go into all the details on that story (that is her story to tell!) but her decision to leave came as quite a suprise.

As I read her message, my world spun. With her out of the game, our chances of getting into the Championship became even smaller. And, with her out of the game, my personal goal to step up my game just became very a public expectation.

Flipping Through the Channels

Very important, I think, that this video was published on one of the most credible and well known sports venues, ESPN. I particularly like the statements the girls make about how female friendship and competitive sports go hand in hand:

The El Train

My recent journey to Chicago confirmed what I have suspected for a long time now: I belong in a city.

Most of the time, I lingered downtown. I travelled at least 15 miles on foot while browsing the stores, theaters, and parks that are seamlessly squished together. I walked all the way down to Navy Pier and along the Lakeshore trail. I never got tired because I did not have time to think about my feet.


I also lingered on the El. I never actually needed to ride the train anywhere, but learning how to navigate the public transportation system felt really important to me. Not only did I partcipate in the rituals of climbing the big metal stairs, purchasing a ticket, and claiming a seat on the crowded train, but I was part of the ritualistic memorization of the colors of the map that is essentail to getting to all the neighborhoods all over the city.

I guess I could say riding the El was the more "true" Chicago experience because I got to see the distinct and diverse neighborhoods of the city as I rode.

While I was riding, I was on a continual lookout for girls who might be wearing "Windy City Rollers" jackets. Had I seen one of these rollegirls, I would have shown her the "Arch Rivals" jacket that I wear constantly, and we would have bonded. But, I never did see any of these women. I imagine that most of them were probably hanging out in one of those distinct neighborhoods that I could only observe from the distance of the train.

Pushing On

Last weekend, we played our second game of the season. This was the most intense game we have played yet. We offered the the M80's some real competition. They hit hard and skated fast but we retaliated with force and for two whole periods, there was only a point spread of around ten points.

We may have retaliated too much. Endless strings of women were put in the penalty box for back blocking, elbowing, sometimes even tripping. One of my captains fell down and hit her head so hard that it could be heard across the rink; my other captain admitted she had over twenty two (22!) fouls. It seems that we were all so focused on winning that things got frenzied and careless.

You know, we see this same pattern of slippage unfolding in large scale politics right now, too. Multiple candidates struggle to remain composed in the last stretches of the primaries, and as their anxiousness and drive to win gets more intense, they slip up in front of various media outlets. Needless to say, I am thinking of the insults that fly between Obama and Clinton these days.

Nervousness is bound to occur in any competition, but I guess what is most important is to keep that internal frenzy from becoming *visible* to spectators. When emotional responses to pressure become visible, then spectators start to expect it all too frequently.

How the City is Making us Visible

A recent topic of conversation amongst the derby girls has caught my attention: whether or not to attend a re-election party for the mayor of St. Louis. Mayor Slay personally invited the roller girls to attend his party so that he can campaign for his upcoming election in style.

On the surface, our conversation seems to have started because as a league, we are concerned about claiming political favoritism. Should we align ourselves with one particular politician? Will our presence lend bias toward the democratic party? Will we dissuade non-democrats from attending our games? While I do agree that these questions are all important, I think the major issue behind our debate is that Slay’s party asks us to own our real life political beliefs in a way we are not accustomed.

You see, most roller girls have well known political personas--the identities we create for ourselves as a kind of exclamation of what we want to be. While skating, I am Starry Starry Fight but rarely do I get the opportunity to be that extreme elsewhere. I can’t demonstrate the same aggression that I do on the rink without making someone uncomfortable.

It seems that the roller rink is one of the few places where we can, as women, be political with no resistance. Democrat or Republican aside, Mayor Slay is giving the rollergirls the opportunity to demonstrate just how much these two parts of ourselves should intertwine. I think this is wonderful.

Belonging to the city.

For quite some time now, I have wanted to live in the city. It seems that being a rollergirl is the closest I can get at this moment.

Beyond just allowing me to skate, being a member of the Arch Rivals allows me to be in constant contact with women diverse and distinct neighborhoods of St. Louis...Dogtown, Central West End, South City. I find it quite extraordinary that women from such vast spaces of the city are able to consistently come together in the same space two, three, sometimes even four days a week for practice. Some of us drive five minutes to get to practice; others must travel for forty.

Being a rollergirl also gives me access to the events in the city. In just one short year, I have participated in the Pride Parade, Grovefest, a fashion show on Washington Avenue, and various music shows at the City Museum. These are all happenings that I would not have even heard about if I had not networked with such a large group of women, so I try to attend as many of these going-ons as possible.

Somehow, being a rollergirl and participating in these events confirm that for now, I can be a part of something large. I can belong to St. Louis, even from Belleville.

An Accidental Hit

This weekend, I sifted through hundreds of pictures that were taken at our recent game. One image in particular caught my attention; it was taken immediatley after I got hit in the eyeball. The result was a painfully scratched cornea and an even more painfully bruised ego. Beyond just making me laugh at the horrified expression on my face, this image got me thinking a little lit bit more on how much our game revolves around trust.

Very rarely in roller derby do women take hits like the one I took at that game. That is because, contrary to what many people think, derby girls do not skate with the intent of hurting each other. While it is true that we participate in a rough and tumble sport, what is more apparent is that we protect each other on the rink.

We fall lightly so as not to take another woman down with us when we are falling. We skate fast but slow down if our teammates cannot keep up. In short, we watch out for every woman on the track. The look on my face that night was of pure surprise because rarely does something like that happen, and when it does, it is unintentional.

I think the larger implications of this thought is that any competition must be based on trust. Battling with people who break the rules creates something larger and more sinister than competition, something I would like to believe that women wouldn't do to one another. Competition, ironically enough, is what makes roller derby a perfect sisterhood. We know that no matter what, we are skating with women who are both our competitors and allies at all times.