As with many aspiring rollergirls, it was the 2009 film Whip It, starring Ellen Page, that first introduced me to the phenomenon: a contact sport dominated by women that prides itself on aggression, adrenaline and awesome outfits – what’s not to like?
The roller derby scene has been growing in the UK over the last five years and there are now almost 50 amateur leagues – teams that are officially recognised by the UK Roller Derby Association.
The Seaside Siren Roller Girls, a 58-strong league based in Southend, Essex, kindly agreed to let me come along to their first training session of the year to see what it is all about.
On the day, I feel a certain amount of trepidation, not least because everyone I’ve spoken to about roller derby seemed to know someone who has broken their arm/leg/neck doing it. And there is the slight issue that I haven’t skated for years. How can I possibly expect to knock over other people if I can barely stay upright myself?
Three Sirens pick me up from the station – this kind of camaraderie is standard. On the drive to the leisure centre where they train, they tell me about the newspaper stories and vintage fair flyers that encouraged them to sign up after never being into sport before. Johnny Cash sings Ring of Fire on the stereo, which seems apt. “It’s nothing like Whip It,” they laugh.
Because there is no official funding in place and it’s not an obvious one for local businesses to sponsor, the women have to do everything themselves: fundraising, recruiting, training, setting up matches with other teams, and organising events. It’s like an alternative Women’s Institute, on skates.
The brightly lit hall is filled with women aged 20-40, many with dyed hair and tattoos, skating around and chatting as they go.
An Essex all-male team is just about to launch, but interested men – “derby widows” – are mainly restricted to refereeing.
Ellie Punter, 31, a mother of two, kits me out in quad skates, helmet, gum shield and shin-, elbow- and wrist-guards. Ellie got involved with the Sirens in 2011. “I liked the idea of being quite violent,” she smiles. “You don’t get the chance very often.” There are regular “fresh meat” programmes to teach newcomers the basics and you have to pass a technique test before the governing body, the Women’s Flat Track Derby Association, will let you compete.
All rollergirls have a stage name, which is usually a horror-inspired pun. The Sirens feature the Bexorcist, Dr TerrorBrall (a clinical psychologist), and Kati Peril, who goes out with a referee called Russell Banned. They have come up with a fitting roller pseudonym for me: the Gorespondent.
Rebecca Ryan, 26, a music teacher, coaxes me up on to my wheels and guides me around the hall. At first I fall, a lot. But after learning how to do so in a way that minimises the pain – forward, knee first, avoiding your hands getting near your skates – it is less embarrassing than the natural inclination to land on your arse.
Once I have built up my confidence, the next learning curve is to get used to players trying to knock me over while I’m skating. Ellie gently nudges my hip with hers and while my gut reaction is to grab on to her for dear life, this would be against the rules.
The Sirens meet three times a week and Sunday evening is scrimmage, where they play against each other. In two teams of five skaters, identified by a uniform that can include hot pants, tutus and outrageous makeup or more conventional sportswear, the idea is to skate around the narrow track while a “jammer” from each team tries to break through her opponents, who try to stop her doing so through blocking and knocking. Points are scored when a jammer laps the opposition.
My team sticks close to protect me, as I’m still putting the majority of my concentration into staying on two feet. I do get a couple of hits but luckily you are allowed to grab on to your fellow teammates to stop you going down. The whole thing would be terrifying if it wasn’t for the fact that the Sirens are overwhelmingly encouraging, showering me with compliments as I complete a jammer victory lap.
Exhausted from using muscles I didn’t know I had and thrilled that I haven’t broken anything, I watch the women in action from the bench and am struck not only by their skill and agility but the DIY community that they have created for themselves.
I’m not sure that I’m cut out to be a rollergirl, but I can definitely see the appeal of this exhilarating women-run revolution on roller skates.
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