written for SISU Guard by Amber McDonald

The language of roller derby is often colorful.  Referees are better known as “zebras” and best friends are “derby wives.”  Attendees at a bout might hear cries of “Get the goat!” or “Eat the baby!”  This last directive is, fortunately, unrelated to a pregnant skater’s “nine month injury.”

There are also a number of expressions that have become an accepted part of the derby vernacular, despite their questionable accuracy. Take, for example, “There’s no sorry in derby.”  False.  

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve wound my way through a paceline with many apologies for the wake of kicked shins left behind me.

Or, “There’s no crying in derby.”  I’m here to tell you that the many t-shirts bearing this message are wrong.  Falling hurts, getting hit is scary, and sometimes a skater just had a bad day.  All of that translates to plenty of tears on the track.

One of the most recognized phrases of derby is: “Be your own hero.”  As any devotee can tell you, this expression was coined by the movie Whip It, which features Ellen Page as a pageant girl gone derby.  But, Whip It also got it wrong.  I’m not my own hero.  I get on the track to be surrounded by my heroes.

When our newest jammer gets a grand slam, my heart sings.  She’s my hero.  Our blocker who went from clinging to the walls to dominating the track is my hero.  Anyone who can make the required minimum 27 laps in 5 minutes is my hero.  And anyone who hasn’t, but keeps pushing for it, is my hero, too.

On Saturday mornings, I skate with a woman who falls more than anyone I know.  Her falls are usually spectacular, in the style of Bambi on ice.  She falls so often, of course, because she’s constantly pushing at the boundaries of her abilities, expanding the universe of her skills.  She refuses to fall prey to the constant stream of doubts that can plague a skater.  So, every Saturday, every fall, she’s my hero.

Most days, I don’t feel anything like a hero.  For a relatively new skater like me, skating isn’t very glamorous.  It isn’t big hits and power jams, or even particularly impressive falls.  More often than not, it’s a metaphorical slog through the cold mud on a mission to build muscle and muscle memory.  Most days, a combination of health issues and work leave me too exhausted to do anything but show up and hope for the best.  But, I suppose there’s a kind of heroism in that, too.  It would be easy to just give up, in this stage of skating when the victories are small and progress can feel imperceptible.  But, I don’t.  Instead, I choose to put on

my skates.  Even when I’d rather go to bed early or sleep in late, even when I’m sad, mad, hurt or just feeling funky, I choose to put on my skates.  Over and over, I choose to put on my skates.

So, maybe Whip It got it half right.  Maybe – no, definitely – put on your skates and “Be your own hero.”  Just know that someone’s watching.  And, odds are, you’re their hero, too.

Amber is a talanted and inspiring writer and a recent winner of Shameless Photography Letters to Our Bodies contest. She skates for the Southern Maryland Roller Derby.