BCR-style thank-you letter: Ten things I learned this weekend

Various members of the Burn City Rollers post "Ten things I learned this weekend" notes on Facebook following bouts. That's what this is all about.

10. While DDG is my team, everyone I skated with from Auburn is also, equally, my team.
9. I cannot be thankful enough to Cho Cold for having her crazy idea to start a roller derby team. And I certainly can't be thankful enough for all the memories of practices where I felt like dying because of the strenuousness of the workouts. They really got me through that horrible last semester.
8. BCR has more logo and color changes than any team I know. But it is a successful ploy to sell more merch (at least to me)!
7. Amyn is ridiculously skinny. Really. I can't get over how much less of her there is, but how much more menacing she is on the track.
6. When I was benchcoaching, this weird thing kept happening: I kept looking at the track, thinking, "Wow, that skater on the other team really looks like Cho." ... "Oh, yeah, that is Cho." Either I'm not observant or just super-focused on the bench.
5. Even though Venna Viper, Super Combo, BTE, Babe E. Quakes, and Lucy Ferocious aren't a part of BCR anymore, they still are in my head. Their absence was striking. (And everyone else who moved or left, but especially them.)
4. 9lb Hammer is, like, 20 times faster than she was a year ago!
3. I've always been one to leave an afterparty early, but it was still really sad to not go at all. I woke up at one in the morning, thinking, "I should be leg-wrestling at The End Zone right now."
2. Mary Helley's enthusiasm while saying this bout was the first time she'd been on a winning team almost made up for my disappointment at being on the losing team. But not quite. I'd really have liked to win.

1. 9 and Amyn walking toward me at the VBC with a basket full of baby things from BCR was a rather surreal experience, and so heartwarming. I'm not much given toward sentimentality, but that gift meant, unexpectedly, so much to me. It said, "Hey, you haven't been in Auburn for nearly two years, and you're not skating anymore, but we thought about you. And took action." I don't take that kind of considerateness for granted. Thank you so much, all of you, for that, and for creating my love of derby.

Derby dream montage

This weekend, my old roller derby team, the Burn City Rollers, will play my new roller derby team, the Dixie Derby Girls for our first home game of the season. I'm super excited (though not as excited as I would be if I could actually hit some of my old teammates! Out of affection, of course, not malice).

The fact of this upcoming game combined with the awesomeness that was last night's practice, along with my unfortunate lack of deep sleep caused by this baby referee kicking around in my abdomen, gave me a full night's worth of roller derby montage dreams. It was just like being at the movies but way cooler.

Disgrace Kelley telling me when she's jammed in scrimmage, she knows she'll get through the pack when she sees DISPATCHher on the track. DISPATCHher saying she tries to look out for her girls.

9lb Hammer wearing the most adorable tutus ever. And hitting girls hard. But still adorably.

The first hard hit I ever took, Lucy Ferocious putting me on the ground when I wasn't looking. Getting up and laughing as I took off after her.

The BCR inaugural meeting at some bar in Auburn, with Dixie Thrash saying she can tell right off which girls aren't going to stick with it while looking me in the eye. Me asking her later what it is she thought she saw in me that said "quitter."

BOA and eRacer X gleefully exclaiming something at each other, maybe that they finally were on the same scrimmage team. Unimportant words in the midst of unadulterated enthusiasm.

Seeing an unfamiliar girl wearing sparkly booty shorts––taller than me––warming up. And realizing it's Snidely.

Being consoled by Amyn Atcha in the most disgusting bathroom on earth (Skate Center, Auburn) about something long irrelevant, probably related to grad school or the torture that was wedding planning.

Seeing the hustle that has suddenly energized Sawblade Sindy and given her a sense of purpose on the track.

Taking down Dixie Thrash at last year's scrimmage.

Reliving every hilarious moment of Cho Cold's antics at Anna Malinstinct's unforgettable and ridiculous sleepover.

Crying in my car after practice and the intense embarrassment of having C.U. Afterclass ask me what was wrong, my answer being, "People are such complainers. Why can't practice be harder? I hardly ever feel like I'm going to die by the end of it."

Taking the hardest hit of my life (including rugby) from Cakeface Killa at the Spread the Love scrimmage and having a bruised sternum and rib for weeks. But liking it a lot.

Getting to be on the bottom of the derby girl pyramid at The End Zone.

Watching the apparent effortlessness Ebbin Flow and Pinky Tuscadero put into the game.

Remembering how difficult it was to make room for derby in my last-year-of-grad-school schedule, but how very rewarding.

I've never thought of either of my teams as "my derby family" as so many girls do, but as something different and somehow better. C.S. Lewis summed it up, “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one.'”

Commencement

Well, I washed all my gear, put everything in my skate bag, and put it in the back of the closet this weekend.

It feels like college graduation. I'm a little sad, a little resigned, and also pretty excited to be done with what feels like boring busywork (not talking about freshmeat coaching here: love freshmeat. Hate the impossibility of genuine communication in a group the size of DDG. Loved classes; hated all the small things required before graduation, like FAFSA exit exams, application paperwork, etc).

I had the best group of friends in college. We had a lot in common; we hung out together constantly,  rollerbladed around the lakes, wrestled on the lawn, played a lot of Risk, jumped the train that went through our backyard, did all manner of crazy things together (sober, let me add).

But, really, we didn't have that much in common.

I was one of the first to graduate, and the whole semester leading up to graduation, I was in a completely different world. I still desperately loved my roommate and my closer guy friends. But they were going to keep doing the same things for another year or two, and I was, fairly inexplicably, going to move 18 hours south to the Heart of Dixie, just to do something different.

And it was never going to be the same. In high school, people think they'll forever be bffs with their friends. By college, I was ready to make the transition away, make it easier and less consumed with crying and not moving on.

Now is one of those transition-y times. I can't go anywhere now (really!) without people talking about my being pregnant. It's not really my preferred topic of conversation (probably not even in the top ten), but that's kind of out of my control. I'm the same, but my appearance and impending life changes require me to be someone else. And once I'm "officially" a mom, the difference between the people I consider to be like me and the people who consider me to be like them will be much bigger.

Let me clarify: I'm 100% thrilled about having a baby. I can't say I always imagined I'd be a mom, but I didn't really imagine not being one, at least after I met Jeff.

But soon, I'll be a mom who has some other interests. I won't be Brigitte, my own discrete person.

And, then, that's not even why I feel like I'm saying goodbye to DDG, possibly for good. There are a ton of people with kids, and there are a ton of girls I feel like I can at least passably call friends. I just can't imagine that after a long break, I'll want to come back to what feels more like a bureaucracy than either of my jobs do. It feels like I'm growing irreconcilably apart from DDG––not so much the people or the sport––just the organization.

But I'm still here for now. I've got at least three weeks till commencement. 

Too much in a name

"I have no problem admitting that I am a fan of derby more for the sport than the counter-culture aspect. Despite that, I still have a great appreciation for the culture of derby, and have no desire to see it go away. What I don’t understand, however, is the belief that if the popularity of derby grows, the culture aspect will cease to exist. It reminds me of fans of a band that would buy the band’s newest album the day it came out, play the album non-stop, go on endlessly about the awesomeness of the album, but months later, when the songs from the album were being played on the radio or MTV, would claim that the album sucked––regardless that the tracks on the album didn’t change at all." Mike Chexx, Rose City Rollers' announcer, from "Growing Pains: Derby's (Ongoing) Identity Crisis"

Read this guy's article. It says everything I want to say, but so much more eloquently, and with specifics. (But keep reading here anyway!)

Now that it's that time of year when the Dixie Derby Girls get their biggest crop of new skaters, my favorite subject of derby names is back at the forefront.

Many of you already know that I'm not a huge fan of derby names. Well, amended––I'm not a huge fan of having a derby name. It's just not me.

I'd never heard of roller derby before joining. It sounded like fun. How can a person resist a sport that combines skating really fast and hitting people really hard? (No, really, if you don't play, how can you not?)

But then, there were some things about roller derby that I was not so thrilled about: Fishnets. Face paint. Derby names.

Fishnets are easily avoidable. Face paint is optional. Derby names, though, seemed to be something I was coerced into, mostly to make other people happy and to satisfy some public image the team wanted to portray. It's part of the culture. Can't argue with culture. (BCR girls, you may remember my weeks of complaining about having to pick a name, and my weeks of whining about how much I just wanted to be regular Brigitte Demasi. Guess I'm still complaining. But probably going to be Brigitte Alexy on the track when I come back.)

I'm not saying I couldn't have stuck with my real name from the outset. There were, of course, the obligatory comments: "Oh, some people skate under their real names." (Implied: Don't do that. You won't fit in. People will think it's weird. It's not very derby.) But it would have been difficult, and since I'm already a person who has trouble feeling like I fit in or getting to know people in groups, I just wasn't up for the challenge.

The arguments for derby names, or at least the ones I've heard, seem to be these:

• Having an alter ego lets you be who you need to be on the track. You can sit at a computer all day, but the person you are there just can't be aggressive enough on the track. Your alter ego will let you channel that aggression.
• You can integrate your other interests with your derby name to really become whoever you want.
• It's fun! You didn't get to pick your own name, but now you can be whoever you want!
• The fans love it. Derby names really add character to the game, and fans pay for characters.

The thing is, all this is great for people who like that kind of thing. But,

• I've never had a problem playing tough as myself. To a lot of people who know me, it's a defining characteristic.
• My main interests are athletics, crafts, and bookish things. The athletics thing is covered already just by playing roller derby. The other things, to me, would make lame derby names (again, by other people's standards of lameness.) My complete lack of interest in violence and blatant sexuality kind of eliminates me from "cool" derby names.
• My parents did a good job. I'm used to Brigitte.
• My personality certainly doesn't lend itself to showmanship in athletics. Moot point.

Another thing is, I like nicknames in general. In early high school, the name Twiggy somehow got attached to me. Probably because I was 5'10" and 120 pounds and had no need for a bra. It wasn't a particularly flattering name, but at least it was authentic. In late high school, Psycho Runner Girl was a common alternative, what with the marathon training when I was 16. And people who call me Brig spontaneously instantly endear themselves to me (I'm thinking of Zombie Kitty and Laura Howard and Alexis here).

But Brigitte Badonkadonk isn't authentic. It's just convenient. It's alliterative, and it calls attention to an asset that's called enough attention to itself since I was about 14 (unfortunately, mainly from middle-aged men). But kids like to say Badonkadonk, so that's one plus.

I guess it comes down to this: I love playing a sport that prides itself on inclusiveness. But I would like that inclusiveness to encompass those of us who happily, readily, and consistently identify as more mainstream than alternative.

I want you to be yourself: if you love derby names, great––be your alter ego to the max on the track. If you play more for the crowd than for the sport, great––the showmanship makes the sport and the culture richer. If you like face paint, great––slather it on a la Hard Knox.

And I'd like to be myself.

Oh, the things I can't do

"Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do." -John Wooden 

The hardest thing about coaching is that I don't know how. Not at all. All of my motivational leader-type experiences in which I get people to push themselves harder and do things they think they can't have followed this typical script:

Me: Hey, let's climb this giant rock! (Or jump out of this tree! Or run 10 miles! Or do 2000 crunches then 100 pushups then roll around in a big snowbank outside! Or hike 18 miles with really heavy backpacks and camp out and hike back tomorrow!)

Other person: Uh, I don't think I want to do that. I probably can't do that.

Me: You can! Let's do it! Look, I can do it! You know you want to! It will be fun! Yeah!

Other person: ...

Me: Come on! Let's go! I'll help you! Fun! Yeah!

Other person: ...

Me: (Same type of comments, relentlessly)

Other person: Okay. Let's do it.

Me: !!!! 

And later...

Other person: I didn't think I'd be able to do that. What an accomplishment! (Or that was really scary. But fun. I'm glad I tried it. Or wow, you're crazy. Clearly we have different interests. I'm staying home next time.)

Me: I knew it! If I can do it, you can do it!

Apologies to my childhood friends for all the assorted reckless things and bike wrecks, to my high school friends for all the building-climbing, and to my college friends for all the rollerblading and wrestling and climbing things. Safety first! (Ha ha ha.)

But now, it's like, hey, I can only do ten pushups before my face is really really hot. I know my limits. (Jeff, stop snickering.) I can skate a lot of laps but can't do any crunches. I do a million turnaround stops but no falls. And coaching isn't about that anyway. But how easy and effective it's always been to challenge people to do more than me or work harder than I am or somehow goad them into trying to beat me! (Caveat: not talking about overall roller derby here–not that conceited–just talking about sheer endurance and staying power.) 

But it's really difficult to try to adjust to having to just tell people what to do without putting forth that physical, visible challenge. And it's even more difficult to be friendly and encouraging since that's not my natural inclination in any circumstance. My default personality is certainly (unintentionally) standoffish and solitary. 

But I guess I have to forget about my strengths and work on my weaknesses, just like in every other situation. But in like 5 months, watch out–I can probably outdo you. And that's the plan.

Ruthlessly results-oriented

"All coaches have one thing in common, that they are ruthlessly results-oriented." -Fast Company magazine


When I was a senior in college, one of my professors asked me to guest-teach his business writing class full of international graduate students. I'd achieved a reputation for helping people write successful resumes and cover letters, so I guess this professor saw it as a good opportunity to give me some teaching experience and get a day off in the process.

So I go into this classroom armed with standard college-student-level examples, fairly confident that I could show this class how to tweak their resumes and make them look good. I was a little daunted––they were all older than me, and graduate students!––but I've always had ridiculous amounts of self-confidence, so no big deal.

And then I was bombarded by questions!
"I made three drafts of my resume. Which one is better? The one with education on top? Or experience? Or should I emphasize my goals?"

"I already have a job lined up when I go back to my country after graduation. Why should I learn this?"

"How old are you?" (Me: Hmm... I look pretty young. Please keep listening to me.)

"I have ten years of experience in [some complicated math or technology field]. Should I list all of my skills? That would make my resume at least ten pages instead of one. Can't I just do a CV instead?"

"I don't want to apply for any jobs that require English. It's difficult for me here, and I don't know English well. Can I just write a resume for my own country?"

And my favorite: "I'm fluent in four languages. Should I include that? I don't see that on any of your examples." "Oh, me, too. I speak three languages perfectly." "Yes, I do, too." Etc.

Wow. Overwhelming. Then I realized that I just needed to work with each person individually, from the ones who didn't know why they were in the class to the ones who had years of experience and far more expertise in some (most) areas than I did.

It's kind of the same coaching the DDG freshmeat right now. I have a plan, and I have a goal, but everyone is progressing so differently, and there are so many questions!

"How can I improve my crossovers?"

"What is the best way to do a turnaround stop without just spinning and falling down?"

"What kind of wheels should I get? What kind of trucks are on these skates? What are bearings and how do they work?"

"What kind of league job would be best for me? Who should I talk to about that?"

Some girls can immediately skate as well as some of our veterans, and some are on skates for the first time in decades or the first time ever. Some girls are confident in their past years of athletics and some are new to team sports. Some are much more outgoing, and some still seem uncertain by the whole rambunctious atmosphere.

And then my goals––to get everyone scrimmaging as quickly as possible and to be encouraging at all times––cannot be on a timeline. That's just impossible. At the beginning stage, it's like coaching nine people at, at least, five distinct skill/confidence levels.

But I am just so proud of each girl! And now I will embarrassingly talk about each of them:
Flossy Fatale has SO MUCH heart. If I had gotten a bruise the size she did at bootcamp, I would not have been back. Her enthusiasm level is ridiculous. Taking a beating from the floor and getting back up every time––quicker than the last time––very impressive.

JJ, jumping over stuff at, like, her third or fourth practice, without fear, seems to just do what needs to be done. Her focus seems strong. I don't know her goals, but I can tell she has them and will relentlessly achieve them.

Jill, at the greenway practice, really stole my heart when she said, "Oh, we're done with these exercises already? Can we do some situps? Come on, guys, we need to do some situps." And later, "Are we done skating? Let's run now. At least for a few minutes. We all need to run!" And, "Wow, when I fell, I realized that I really love falling! Even on asphalt."

Honey is back after a few years off. It seems like when people leave they don't come back. But she's here, and she's ready to skate. She has just jumped back in as though she knows derby is where she wants to be, which, of course, it is!

Christina (I apologize for this) really reminds me of me. It seems like she's like, Okay, I'm ready to hit some people. I've been waiting for roller derby, and now I'm here. Let's get going. I don't need encouragement, just permission to keep pushing it to the limit.

Tonya is another girl with more heart and enthusiasm than I can imagine. She skates ALL the time! With a broken butt and everything. There's something unnameable about her that tells me she's going to be awesome for the duration, that she's going to completely immerse herself in derby and become increasingly better and better.

DISPATCHher, hmm. I am a little afraid of scrimmaging against her once I'm back. She practiced taking hits one time, and there hasn't been another girl with such solid skating skills since... I don't know. And I know she's going to hit like Nookie or Ebbin or Lola. So watch out!

Boom Boom sort of infuriates me with jealousy at her current level of athleticism. (I was out-wall-sat! I know! Crazy! I'll blame it on the baby.) She approaches every skill with a sort of nonchalance, like, Yeah, I can do this. No problem. I might not have it yet, but in a few more tries, it's going to be perfect, and I'm going to make it look easy. As though I've done this my whole life.

And Vixen'Ta Jett is there. She's really there. From the first day she walked in to practice, right before we took time off at the end of last season, to every practice now, it seems like she switches 100% from real life to derby. That's so important, and it shows so much in her skills and progress.

I can't imagine DDG without any of these girls, already. And while I feel like I'm looking in nine different directions at nine completely different types of skaters and personalities and skill levels and communication types, I know that they will all come together to make our team stronger and better than ever. As long as we all have our goals and keep our focus securely on them, we're ready to roll!

Instinct and crazy Walmart people

I almost got jumped in the Walmart parking lot.

When I got out of the car, this lady was running at me, yelling something like, "You KNOW what you did! I can't believe you're such a [edited]! You took my parking spot!!"

Me, looking around at the kazillions of empty spots, some closer to the door: "?"

Crazy lady: "And I have kids in the car!"

Thinking, Poor kids. At least I'm guaranteed to be a better mom than someone. Thinking, Wow, you're a psycho. And your hair is ugly. I should say something really mean. I don't deserve this. Me, politely: "Would you like me to move?"

Crazy lady: "Uh." Deflated pause. Looking disappointed that the pregnant lady didn't want to fight with her, or even yell. "No. It's too late now. Never mind."

She got back in the minivan and parked one spot away. I kept walking. (Well, I noted the license plate in case she keyed the car while I was inside. Gold Odyssey, Alabama plates, 44C80F5.) Walking inside, I was trying to calm down. I'm sure I looked like the calmest person in the world, but I was pretty shaken. I hadn't even seen her van in the parking lot, much less cut her off, and that made the shock so much worse. Being blindsided makes it so hard to do the right thing instead of the instinctual thing.

It made me think of this other time, when I was about 20 maybe, when the mom of a guy I had dated asked me to visit him while I was visiting the town he lived in. She suspected he was taking drugs and apparently thought he would stop if I just stopped in and chatted for a while. I hadn't seen him in months, so I humored his mom and stopped at his apartment. He answered the door and seemed happy to see me. Then this tiny little screechy girl darted from across the room and started trying to hit me. I was pretty startled, and I laughed - she was about 5 feet tall and pretty skinny - because it seemed ludicrous that she was physically attacking me. Apparently laughing at a person isn't always the best move. I wanted to punch her, but she was so small and she was obviously on drugs and out of it. And, you know, I didn't really know her or know why she was hitting me. I covered my face with my forearms and got a nasty scratch down one arm.

I was angry, but the worst part was knowing I did the right thing and it still being so difficult. It would have been much more satisfying to hit her back. For weeks, it made me angry all over again every time people asked me why I didn't do anything back - it would have been justified, being self-defense and all. Having people imply I was weak or cowardly for not following my instincts was certainly the hardest part.

Then there was this one rugby game where this same girl kept illegally tackling me. Then, one of her teammates took me down, she looked me in the eye, and deliberately cleated me in the crotch. I may have punched her in the face. It wasn't more satisfying.

When I joined Dixie Derby Girls, my sense of the team was mainly confusion and chaos. Some people were friendly. Most people were indifferent. Some seemed actually mean. (I blame this impression on my natural reticence, though.) Practices were confusing, and I couldn't figure out who the coach was for months. It seemed like a lot of time was spent talking about things like, This person said this, and then this other girl got all mad. And now I'm going to get back at her for doing this one bad thing to this other girl, because she's my friend. It seemed like I spent a lot of time standing or skating aimlessly, invisible, listening to all kinds of people say all kinds of things. Mainly, it didn't seem malicious, just habitual. And when we scrimmaged, there was one player who, because of her height and unsteady skating gait, seemed to always elbow me in the face. It was hard to not take it personally.

DDG's a whole new team now, but it's still difficult to do the right thing instead of the instinctual thing. When I hear someone say something terrible about people I like - or when I was still practicing and felt like someone was targeting me (which, really, is almost always in the mind of the person who feels targeted, I think) - it's hard to not turn around and do the same back instead of addressing it calmly.

But, you know, I don't want to be that crazy lady looking for a fight in the Walmart parking lot. I don't want DDG to be that team that allows itself to be baited, to lose tempers, and to lose games because of it. I certainly don't want to be that girl who punches someone during a sporting event for no reason. (That's not entertainment, really. That's lack of self-control and respect for the game.) It's difficult to wait half a second and do the right thing and second-guess constantly about it for weeks afterward, but it's worth it.

Whoa! Determination!

Winston Churchill said, "Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts." I don't know what he was talking about, but it's also true in roller derby.


This last Wednesday, the team was doing some hip-whipping drills. This is when everyone skates in a line fairly close together and the person at the back of the line weaves through, propelling herself by pulling really hard on people's hips. When done correctly, the person weaving through will pull hard enough to almost make the other girl stop.


So imagine this is your, oh, maybe fourth derby practice ever. Or maybe it's your third practice since getting injured early in the fall, and you hadn't been skating very long then. Now imagine you're concentrating on keeping up with girls who've been playing for four or five years and you're thinking about skating fast enough, crossing over, looking behind you, and suddenly someone skates up and jerks on your hips nearly as hard as she can. And then you're on the ground. And then you're getting yelled at to get up, catch up, get back in line, stay an arm's length apart, cross over, skate faster, look back... next girl comes up, you're on the ground. Then do it again! 


It nearly brought tears to my eyes to see these girls keep getting up, keep catching up, keep getting better, and just plain keep going. And the frustration and determination! None of them complained a single word. None of them quit. And they'll all be back.


If I had joined an already established team, gone to practice a few times, and gotten pulled to the floor repeatedly, I probably would have been like, "Pshw. I'm outta here. I'm not coming back for this agony. No way I'll ever make it to being the one knocking people over."


But really, I just can't believe these girls. They want to play so badly. This is how it should be.