Hell on Wheels

So I just discovered that I’ve been living under a rock for God knows how long. Why? Up until a month or so ago, I had no idea what the hell a Roller Derby was. Nope, no idea whatsoever that this fascinating, deeply seeded, counter-culture-esque, punk-rebel-bad-ass “sport” even existed. Until now, that is. And now, I will be a jammer.

Jammer cap. You'll see.

My friend Brian introduced me to this phenomenon by casually saying, “So I went to the Roller Derby last night and the whole time I was thinking, ‘Bing should totally be a Roller Girl.’” Roller what? Roller huh? Roller Derby? Roller Girl? I pondered:  ”Are these girls on roller skates? Really? People still own roller skates?” “Is a Roller Derby kind of like the Kentucky Derby, but instead of horses and jockies, there are girls on roller skates?” “Girls race on roller skates?” “Why, again, does anyone own roller skates anymore?” Well, I guess crudely speaking, now that I’ve seen the sport in action, for the most part, my initial reactions weren’t too far off. But a Roller Derby (and needless to say, a Roller Girl), is so, so, much more. Much more.

Brian went on to explain the concept behind the Roller Derby in basic terms so my Roller Derby virgin ears and noggin could comprehend. I have a background in skating–all types of skating–so I could understand why he was approaching me with this new-found glory.

I started on roller skates when I was young. Elementary school gym class to be exact. The roller skating “unit” was the best two weeks of my god-damn life every year up until 6th grade. I would out-skate, out-race, out-trick all the little boys I fancied in order to get their attention. I was shy and didn’t say much in class, so showing, not telling them how I felt was a much better option. Thus, I would practice at home in my roller blades, skating around my unfinished basement, perfecting my skating seduction skills until the roller skating unit approached every spring. After elementary school ended and there were no more boys to impress, I continued to skate every day down the block, around empty parking lots, on one foot gliding across slick concrete at one in the morning. I guess then I didn’t put all the pieces together. Skating wasn’t just something to look forward to in order to impress other people; it was something I did to impress myself. In other words, I loved to skate, no matter what, no matter for whom, no matter where, no matter when.

Around the age of twelve, I took my love for skating onto the ice: I started figure skating. Now figure skating will be another blog entry of mine, there’s no question about that one, so I’ll just give you some basics to help lead into my experience with Roller Derby. On figure skates, things came very naturally for me. I advanced quickly, had a private trainer by 15 (who herself competed in the junior olympics), and mastered pretty much what you see figure skaters do on TV, only in lesser, sloppier form, by 16. My coach moved to DC to be in the FBI (yeah awesome, but not as awesome as skating) leaving me a little disheartened about my future as a figure skater. And not to mention, I was about to go to college. So I stopped training, I stopped competing at a high level, and my skating habits became those of pleasure and recreation. But through it all, my love for skating is still completely alive.

Ok, so I can't do that shit.

So back to my Roller Derby conversation with Brian. (Apologies for the digression. Except not.) He briefly explained the sport, emphasizing that it was more of a spectacle than an actual sport sport by the looks, but in technical terms, it did take a great mixture of talent, aggression and spunk to master. Basically, as he explained, a Roller Derby match up, or a bout, consists of two teams of skaters, 5 from each team on the track at once, going head to head in a battle of speed and resilience. Whoever gains the most points at the end of each bout wins. Brian pointed out that the sport itself isn’t defined so much by the rules of the game, but by the personalities of the girls playing. He insisted again I should try out. Curious, I headed to the Arch Rival Roller Girls website to find more information. (You should check it out to see how the game is played, learn the positions, and meet the girls who play it because it is explained much better there than I could ever attempt to explain.) But after extensive research, I still wasn’t convinced that Roller Derby was right for me, even with my skating background.

This past Saturday, I was finally introduced to this elusive sport, face to face, wheel to wheel, head to head, destiny to destiny. Brian invited Madelyn and I to come to a bout between two teams in the Arch Rival Roller Girls league. The girls play deep in South County, so after a bit of a drive and a mustering of courage, I found myself surrounded by an entirely new culture completely based on Roller Girls and their lifestyles. This little liberal from West County was shell-shocked to say the least. I’m used to tattoos and piercings and alternative punk rockers with attitude (South Grand bars are my second home), but to see hundreds upon thousands of impassioned, driven fans embracing this niche sport I had never even heard of a month prior was beyond fascinating. After getting my ticket and finding my friends, I gritted my teeth yet kept an open mind of what was to come. Brian said “Bing, you’re going to love this,” as I shook my head uncomfortably. “What am I doing here?” I thought. And Madelyn was a little bewildered too. The crowd was swimming with anticipation, PBR and chained belts. No way would I love this. No way could I be a Roller Girl.

But the more I watched, the more I became mesmerized. The girls on each team came parading out, as if they were playing in the Super Bowl or the All-Star game, each introduced by their own unique “Roller Girl” name and number, each wearing the most ridiculously awesome gear to emphasize their unique personalities. I was beginning to understand what Brian meant by the sport being defined by the girls, not the game. Every girl was surrounded by an aura of creativity and feisty-ness. No girl had on the same costume, no girl looked alike, each had her own flair and OWNED it. My favorite Roller Girl name was “Mayor Francis Slayer” and her number was “Four More Years.” Obviously I was enamored because of my love for politics, plus she made me feel a little bit more at ease with the whole situation. I found myself beginning to think of my own Roller Girl name as the bout began. Slowly, I was sucked in.

I dare you to mess with these badass bitches.

After watching the girls skate a few laps, their positions became clear to me. Three girls on each team are “blockers” who basically slam the shit out of the other team if they get in their way (within reason). One girl is a “pivot” who directs the “jammer” through the barricade of blockers. And a jammer, the final girl on the track, is the position in which I fell in love. A jammer must navigate her way strategically through the blockers to emerge ahead of the pack and take the lead, speed skating until she passes the opposing jammer to become the lead jammer. A jammer wears a star on her helmet to indicate  to the other team that she’s the one to take down. Watching the jammer called “Artemischief” weave her agile self through the mass of skaters brought back memories. A flood of memories. From 3rd grade trying to escape the boys in gym class wearing my brown and orange rented roller skates, to ducking and gliding past my opponents when I dabbled in ice hockey during middle school, to landing an axle when no one else thought I could, I knew if I were to have a career as a Roller Girl, jammer would be my position.

At this point, after fighting back exhaustion from a late outing the previous evening, I decided to make it an early night and ducked out with Madelyn at the half period. While trying to comprehend exactly what my draw was to the sport, I found myself researching and wiki-ing all night long, even though I was extremely fatigued. I couldn’t quite place my finger on what it would take to be a Roller Girl. Every website described these girls as brazen, bold, alternative, assured, gutsy, beautiful, bitchy, proud and badass. Definitely things that I’m not. In looks and personality, I’m pretty run of the mill. I guess I consider myself outspoken and bold, but I conform to the norm more often than not and I’m more comfortable with wearing pearls than a snake tattoo wrapped around my neck. I’m shy and nerdy once you get to know me, and I’d rather sit at home reading Jane Eyre and listening to Beth Orton than partying like a rock star  with pink hair at some alternative concert. These ladies define “I am woman, hear me ROAR!”

Like Suicide Girls, with clothes. WICKED HOT.

So the question remains:  Am I cool enough to be a Roller Girl? Does my personality scream or does it whisper? Will I forever be watching from afar in awe and jealously? I know I could do it skill-set wise and with my ambition, but could I ever fit in to this elusive, beloved, and independently-confident group of dynamic divas? Meh, probably not. But who needs stereotypes anyway? Who am I trying to impress? Fuck it. I just want to skate.

Look out for the next Roller Derby coming your way. Bingbangbus may be on the roster sporting the number 69.

Word,

bingbangbus