The L.A. Derby Dolls held an annual roller derby camp at the Doll Factory, a pink and black slathered warehouse, with derby greats teaching. I was a 40-something newbie, getting to train with the elegant beast of a jammer Bonnie Thunders of Gotham Girls, and Texas Rollergirls’ Jackie Daniels, one of the skating stars of Whip It.
Some 40-somethings choose yoga or tennis. I chose roller derby…or rather, it chose me. My fandom for the sport and my awe of the skaters, with their agency and ferocity, turned into a personal dare. I could barely manage a flat track—graceless and giddy, beaming at the delight of being on wheels—but was eager to learn the banked track with the Derby Dolls’ own trainers.
The derby camp was comprised of random skaters instead of organized teams so there were no cliques, just a bunch of us eager to get our skate on. It felt like we were a community learning, working, and playing together. The generous vibe was very you do you.
In my own roller derby team there was a skater shorthand that was lost on me, a tacit nod that I hadn’t gotten as a newbie. Except for my pals Pez, Jesse Maims, and Brawl, a psychologist whom I meet for coffee to chat about human nature. Brawl told me more than once, “Just keep showing up; the other girls will come around.”
There in the Doll Factory, all of us motley skaters were simply trying to improve and build our skills. Most of the strategy was over my head but man, to be among such badassery! I geeked out over the fluidity, footwork, and force the trainers showcased. After cheering on so many Derby Dolls bouts alongside friends and fans, I was training in the warehouse where the magic happened.
It was my first time to see the banked track in daylight. Up close the track was a wooden beast with a pulse and scuffed kickrails. I leaned into the mighty wood like I did when I high-fived rollergirls after a bout, gazing up past the bleachers at the skate-shaped disco ball. Then I tightened my skates, skin tingling, and scrambled under the railing.
Skating the banked track for the first time was a riot—it was so fast, with a tilted funhouse angle. My feet slipped out from under me, but I hustled up the high banks and tried to propel around the apex to race the straightaways. I put some muscle into my stride. It was almost more fun than launching a dragster, because I was flying by my own power.
Faster than I could fall on my ass, the boot camp was over. The Derby Dolls absolutely did not oversell the training camp in their pitch: “Work hard, make new friends, and have the best derby experience of your life!” Check, check, and check.
Not only did I roll with Bonnie Thunders, Jackie Daniels, Smarty Pants, and other solid skaters, but on the final day I was invited to try out for the Dolls! I looked behind me like, Dude. Me? I didn’t expect the nods and approval. The league’s head trainers saw something in me and said I could make the team.
It wasn’t like walking down the street and being discovered as a model by a scout. I worked hard and chatted up the head coaches for input: could I, would I, might I ever be great? I legit wanted to know, as a midlife first-time athlete, but also because I needed to save myself the heartbreak of not excelling at this thing I loved.
After some thought I decided to stay with my own team for long enough to crack the girl code and next-level my skating. I only saw myself getting better. I only saw myself up on that banked track, wheels thrumming alongside skaters as they swooped and blocked, wearing booty shorts or tutus as battle wear, rocking glitter makeup or bandit masks. I could almost feel the speed, thrills, smash-ups…and me, skating inside that happy mayhem.
Photo credit: Bethany Mollenkof / Los Angeles Times. LADD Ri-Ettes v Pennsylvania All-Stars
Love this!! 🛼💖