new skater

“Hi, I’m Sue Flay.”

“Hey Sue, I’m Hero Shima.”

“Oh, I KNOW.”

Dude, I say to myself. Be cool. Be. Cool.

It’s hard to shut down the fan girl inside. She’s been watching these women kick butt and take names for two years. Without having met them, I fell in love with them all. Now, suddenly, they’re peers. Mentors. Teammates. Family. The change happened too quickly for my brain (and my heart) to catch up.

Now, I’m no longer nourishing a girl crush from afar; I’m playing with them at scrimmage. My first time playing the game, I found myself standing in a pack of my heroes. I lined up next to my very first derby crush, Graves. I prayed she wouldn’t notice me skating there, and just how useless I would surely be. The whistle blew and we were off.

That first scrimmage was utter confusion. Everyone was moving and jostling for position, and my little brain could not keep up. Suddenly, I was acutely aware of my clumsiness when picking up my feet. Then, “The jammer’s coming; she’s on the outside. Move to the outside!”

Oh snap. We needed to stop her right? This wasn’t a drill; we were playing a game and I had a job to do. While I looked around to catch my bearings, Graves put her hands on my side and shoved with all her might. I didn’t move an inch. I remember thinking, I wonder what her deal is. Is she trying to tell me something? I looked over at her to see, and WHOOSH! The jammer passed me on the outside.

It’s easy to skate away from situations like this frustrated, disappointed, or angry with myself. Next to these powerful and talented heroes of mine, I’m like a five-year-old trying on her mom’s skates for the first time. Watching them hitting and being hit, running through a pack, or jumping the apex, I can’t help feeling like I’ll never get there. The first couple months of practice, I skated in fear that someone would finally take a good look at me skating, realize I didn’t belong, and nicely ask me to go home.

Of course this didn’t happen. Everyone in our league has been nothing but nice, supportive, and encouraging. Every negative word, every fear, and every anxiety came from me, and me alone. I’ve since learned that the fear of being discovered as a fake commonly affects women. People usually talk about Imposter Syndrome in relation to their careers, but it would make sense that I would become afflicted with it in relation to derby. Derby is the first thing I’ve tried in my life that I haven’t been good at. I’ve had to fight for every skill and every accomplishment.

My name is SheWanna Rock, and I am a new skater. I joined the league in June after advanced tryouts, but that wasn’t my first try. My first attempt was during new skater recruitment in November 2011- I didn’t make the cut. I was determined though, and you know what they say, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try, again!

So here I am, at the end of my first season, reflecting on the new skater experience. It’s really hard to join mid-season; everyone already knows each other, has bonds from playing together and social activities and is in their best physical shape. I, however, was new, nervous, and trying to figure it all out. Playing derby is a lot harder than it looks!!! Learning the physical skills, the rules, the plays, and then putting it all together….wow. At first, I’d feel sick before each practice, trying to pump myself up and mentally prepare, thinking I was the only one feeling this way….so stressed out by not being as good as I wanted to be, as I should be, worried that the rest of the team was annoyed by my lack of skill in every area.

One night during league scrimmage (the most nerve-wracking of all practices for me), I started talking with veteran skaters, and realized that what I was feeling was….NORMAL!!!! Flutter, Nicomatose, Valerie of the Dolls, Jane Flinch, and so many others started telling me that they felt the same way their first year of skating, and that it’s ok. They told me about how they would repeat positive thoughts over and over in their heads, and worried about not ‘getting it’ fast enough, feeling lost in scrimmage, and laughed about learning strategy, or not learning strategy….

I learned that I am normal, and became way more comfortable asking for help, advice, and feedback. Most importantly, I learned what I already knew-that this league is special because of the skaters and their genuine love of derby and each other. They remember being the new girl, want newbies to succeed, and want to help you find your way. Dianasaurus Ross told me the other night that “just being there, showing up, and working on becoming a better skater is contributing to the team,” and she echoed what everyone else has said: focus on one skill at a time; eventually you’ll get it and everyone is there to support you.

Now my short season is over and I’ve learned so much about derby and myself. I want to thank all the women in the league; I’ve received so much knowledge and support from each and every skater. I’m looking forward to next year, meeting all the new skaters, and someday being a support to them as they go through their first months in The Outfit. If you’re thinking about trying out, go for it. It will be the hardest and best thing you’ve done for yourself in a long time.

Shewanna Rock

My stomach churns uncomfortably and I recognize my growing panic ̶ sweaty palms, short, sharp breaths, and I think I might possibly vomit. I’m freaking out. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. It’s June 6^th, my first practice with The Chicago Outfit. I watch the other skaters, so agile, tough, and completely intimidating. Not by what they say or do, but because of my own lack of confidence, I am terrified of them. These experienced skaters know what they’re doing, while I still wonder how I’m able to stand upright in my quad skates. (Sometimes I fall, just standing there. I wish I was joking, but that’s the embarrassing truth.) I’m like Bambi walking on ice.

My first practice was brutal. The second practice- also brutal. Same with the third, fourth, fifth, etc. I go home with more bruises than I thought possible, looking like I’ve been in a fight with a meat tenderizer. Sometimes, I leave practices on the verge of tears. Everyone on the team is supportive, but just because they can explain how something is done, doesn’t mean that I can do it. I got really frustrated with myself in the beginning and even now, after months of practicing with the Outfit, I still feel exasperated when I don’t “get it.”

In truth, I should give myself more credit. When I went through Advanced Tryouts, I honestly didn’t think I’d make it. I was happily surprised they wanted me on the team. I quickly learned I had a LOT to work on. I still do. However, I’ve also tried really hard these past few months, and I’m pretty pleased with my progress. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that roller derby is definitely NOT for quitters, and for that, I am truly proud of myself.

Every time you fall or get knocked down, you have to get back up. Sometimes you fall so hard, you think you can’t. But you do. You can’t quit! You have to keep going! Roller derby has taught me so much in such a short time: don’t quit, be assertive, be strong, be tough, work together, communicate! I can’t think of a better group of women to help teach me these things.

The skaters of The Chicago Outfit are truly unique. Everyone has a different story with different skills. There’s so much acceptance in this league. You think you’re different? Pshhh, who cares!? Join us! That’s the feeling I get when I see how much diversity is on the team. There’s also openness between teammates. Constant communication is key, whether you’re skating, or even on Facebook and email boards. You’re urged to voice your own opinion. If you have a question, ask, and it will get answered. I still feel like a baby sometimes, even though I’m probably older than half the girls on the team, but these ladies have always been encouraging to us “newbies.”

I have so much pride when I think of the team and am excited to be a part of it. I keep dreaming of my future self, just as nimble and swift as the veteran skaters. I look forward to more brutal practices and pushing myself to keep improving, praying I’ll get to that level, but also knowing I shouldn’t compare myself to others. I can only do what I can do, and if I’m doing my best, then I am happy. Never quit!

Goose Cannon
#1013