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.