By Polly Lisa Bennett.
This is an edited excerpt in two parts, from Polly Bennett’s PhD Thesis, “Roller derby changed my life” (2020), which explored how radical, athlete-led sport like roller derby, can provide a break from daily experiences of exploitation and constraint. It can be a location of temporary, but important, experiences of physical freedom and mutual self-fulfilment, under certain conditions.
The full thesis is available: https://awgsa.asn.au/roller-derby-changed-my-life-rethinking-marxist-theory-of-emancipatory-praxis-through-a-case-study-of-womens-flat-track-roller-derby/
Part One: The love affair begins
The skaters line up on the track. They know exactly where they are positioning themselves, having planned their initial moves before the last jam finished. Determined faces, some with aggressive make-up, bodies bent and crouched over as if in a sprint start but their feet tilted over onto toe stops. The positions look almost choreographed in their precarious stillness. Dressed in a mixture of standard team sports gear and theatrical additions, some with make-up, most with names on their backs that reflect chosen personas, the skaters have something in common: a sense of strength and fearlessness, at least in appearance, that is celebrated by the mixed crowds. In this sport, women dominate. This sport – from competitor through to spectator to trainee – is proud of that dominance (Finley, 2010). In this sport, the athletes rule. It is their sport and no-one else’s.
Roller derby is one of the fastest growing women’s sports in the world (WFTDA, 2019a; Wikipedia. 2019a) [1]. Re-forming in Texas in the early 2000s, the sport has undergone a complete makeover. The rules have changed, along with its governance, its goals and even the type of track it is played on. In 2002, the track went flat, down from the previous banked track. This assisted in the democratisation of the sport, because being on a flat track made it possible to train and compete on almost any flat surface: indoor basketball courts, outdoor concrete courts and in warehouses, showgrounds, skate rinks and even bars with concrete floors. This period also marked the beginning of a truly athlete-run sport. The saying ‘by the skaters, for the skaters’ is still an essential point of agreement between roller derby leagues. Some form of democratic internal structure is a requirement of leagues that wish to affiliate to the central governing body: the Women’s Flat Track Derby Association (WFTDA, 2019a). The representatives on WFTDA committees are elected. The rules of the sport are debated throughout the affiliates, and changes are decided on the basis of this discussion. Despite its substantial growth (WFTDA, 2019a; Wikipedia, 2019a) over the past 12 years, skater-run democracy has remained. This is possibly how it remains both accessible and a sport that promotes social change, particularly for women or feminised people and for those who are queer.
The whistle blows. Two skaters at the back of the pack begin to push. They have the jammer helmet covers on their heads, with a star either side. They are the point scorers. In roller derby, no ball scores the points, a skater does. This is the first difference between roller derby and other sports. The ‘ball’ can fight back. The jammers can shift, and dodge, and weave, and duck and even leap past an opposition skater. It is therefore one of the only sports in the world where defence and offence occurs at the same time for both teams. While trying to stop the opposing jammer from getting through, you must simultaneously try to help your own jammer get through the pack to score points for your team. This makes for a spectacular game to watch and an even more difficult game to play. The latter is what keeps skaters coming back, for mastering even a moment in the game is a rarely experienced thrill. Overcoming the chaos on the track can make you feel like anything in life is possible.
Roller derby is unique because of an even more important characteristic: it changes lives. The saying ‘roller derby changed my life’ is so common that it is almost trite. A song was written about it. The theme trails through almost every roller derby blog. At first appearance, the types of changes seem to differ: leaving abusive relationships; gaining a sense of physical strength; coming to terms with being gay or bisexual or transgender or gender questioning or ‘just’ plain queer; recovering from past sexual abuse; changing careers; or, developing a healthy relationship with the body. When explored further, it becomes apparent that these changes have much in common. They are about finally finding the strength to live a truer life, to live a life where body and mind are reunited in a coherent self and to have the boldness to face challenges that were previously shunned or not even conceived of. In short, the changes reflect a shift towards living a more fulfilling life, one that pushes up against personal, social and physical boundaries and develops the self towards a fuller potential. For many, being involved in roller derby is emancipatory, even if this is partial and temporary.
The game on the track this night finishes on a tie breaker. I had been watching the local roller derby games – called bouts – for several months. I had appreciated so much about them: the themed nights with awards for best costume; the skater names; the early Saturday-night timetabling, which meant it was simultaneously a great family night out and a warmer for those wanting to hit bars and clubs afterwards; the variety of women’s bodies fiercely competing on the track. The latter was a shock, even for a cultural studies student. It made me realise just how limited, sterile and constructed the public representations of women’s bodies are. Representations of women and their bodies, including those of athletes, do not reflect the diversity of bodies that really exist. Yet here, in the hockey stadium in the northern Melbourne suburb of Reservoir, participants did not have to fit into a stereotype of what an athlete looked like in order to play a highly competitive and entertaining game. In fact, large hips and thighs are a distinct physical advantage on wheels because of the lower centre of gravity: large butts are symbols of strength and power. As one author notes, in roller derby the butt is resignified (Carlson, 2010). So are bodies in general.
This night was different, however. It was the bout that won me to roller derby. It was an interstate competition in mid-winter in 2009, before the release of the Drew Barrymore directed movie about roller derby, Whip It (Barrymore and Mendel, 2009). It was only about two years after the sport of roller derby had begun in Australia (Wikipedia, 2019c). The stadium was packed. Tickets were selling out for interstate games even then, and the hundreds of us now standing on our feet felt a little like we had discovered a secret: this intense game where women smash each other on roller skates.
Until a friend of mine joined, I had never heard of it. These were still mainly word-of-mouth days for the sport. It rarely made it into the newspapers, and then it was only as spectacle. Tonight, though, we were celebrating roller derby not simply as spectacle but as serious sport. It was a grudge match between two leagues that had been battling it out for the status of top league in the country, but it was at a time before we had anything like a ladder. It was before the biannual Australia-New Zealand tournament, The Great Southern Slam (ADRD, 2019). The game was raw and mean and worthy of the name bout. As the standing crowd roared, one was reminded of other underground sports held down dingy streets and in warehouses: the fighting sports. That this was women-made meant that it was all the more exciting and that little bit rebellious. This sport was founded on a different terrain to those of so many others.
The Adelaide league won, but through a controversial referee’s call. While this mattered to many of the skaters and long-term spectators, I was touched by how little it mattered to everyone else. I was in tears of joy and excitement. Others were, too. These kinds of events, in which the possibilities of the human body in movement are pushed and witnessed, are rare. They occur when the relationship between spectator and athlete become intertwined, and the room becomes something else. The cheering and the incredible skills of the athletes create the momentary experience of everyone being part of something bigger: a moment where we witness and feel human endeavour. It was reminiscent of concerts and festivals, theatrical performances, many art exhibitions and, for me, of united protest. It is, arguably, about that drive towards human emancipation.
[1] As roller derby in its current form is relatively new, Wikipedia is one of the most reliable sources of current information about the sport. Even the official website of the governing association (WFTDA) recommends that histories of roller derby be retrieved from Wikipedia.
Image: Gomisan/Flickr, CC BY-NC-ND
Part Two of this excerpt to follow…
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Polly Lisa Bennett (they/them) is a researcher and sociologist, with a passion for social justice. They also write creative non-fiction. Their writing is usually semi-autobiographical or in current affairs. They are published in Overland journal. Polly’s recent research has involved working with LGBTIQA+ people, particularly those who are young or with disability, to improve health, education and community services for themselves and their communities. In 2021 Polly completed a PhD thesis exploring, what is it about roller derby that changes skaters’ lives? Polly lives on unceded Waddawurrung Country (Geelong) and contributes to Pay the Rent.
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