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.