She’s wearing a crash helmet, wrist guards, elbow pads, knee pads, and lacy, fluorescent green underwear. Her underwear match her fingernails and the green and black striped knee-high socks that are pulled over her fishnet stockings. She’s “Commiekaze.” She’s a derby girl.
For a derby girl, she looks tame. “Commiekaze,” or Anastasia Obrotova, doesn’t have any of the visible tattoos, piercings, or heavy black eye makeup that adorn many of her teammates. Give her time, though – this is just her first game, or “bout,” with the Thames Fatales roller derby team.
“I’m excited and nervous. As long as I don’t get taken out on a stretcher, I’m good,” said the 21-year-old Fanshawe College student before a recent bout against the London Thrashers at Western Fair’s Canada Building.
Roller derby is a young sport in London. The Forest City Derby Girls, London’s derby league, was born about two years ago, starting with just one team, the London Thrashers. As more women became interested in playing, the league added a second team, the Thames Fatales.
The amateur league is volunteer-run, with about 25 players and another 30 volunteers who help organize games and tournaments as far away as Montreal. Players range in age from 19 to 45, and include bankers, librarians, students, and mothers. They all squeeze roller derby into their busy schedules, with two-hour practices once a week and tournaments several times a year.
“There’s definitely a draw to seeing women play a full contact sport,” said Kristin Hendrick, the marketing and public relations chair of the Women’s Flat Track Derby Association in Albuquerque, New Mexico. “It’s new, fresh, intriguing, and maybe controversial.”
The WFTDA is a U.S.-based organization that sets standardized rules for derby, gives guidance to new leagues, and helps promote the sport. It’s the only national roller derby body in the world, says Hendrick.
Members of London's roller derby team are decked out and ready to derby.
Derby’s growth in London is emblematic of the sport’s increasing popularity across North America. Canada has about 17 leagues from Vancouver to Halifax. In the U.S. today there are 56 leagues – almost double the number that existed just four years ago, says Hendrick.
Recently, WFTDA opened membership to Canada for the first time, and both Hamilton’s and Montreal’s leagues are in the process of applying for WFTDA membership. For Canadians, being a WFTDA member means getting a chance to be ranked among other leagues and to play against more established and skilled teams.
The face of roller derby hasn’t changed much since its heyday in the seventies. It’s still got a bit of the camp and drama that packed the bleachers back then, when roller derby was like wrestling on wheels – half sport and half entertainment.
At halftime in a recent show-down between the London Thrashers and the Thames Fatales comes a spectacle called “Roll the Dice of Sacrifice.” A derby girl brings out a giant black fuzzy dice with activities listed on each of its six sides. “Mirambo” calls on a boy from the audience to roll the dice, and it lands on “Pillow Fight.”
“Mirambo” and “Jemicide” begin to batter each other with pillows, and within a minute, the two are writhing on the floor in the centre of the track, fishnets and skates flying. When the pillow fight ends, “Mirambo” has a sprained ankle and “Jemicide” has been sent to the hospital after receiving a roller skate in her eye.
Though this kind of violence is unusual and against the rules – both players were required to sit out the rest of the bout – roller derby is definitely not dainty. Many league members speak of injuries sustained on the track, including bruised tailbones, dislocated shoulders, and concussions.
“The ultimate roller girl trophy – other than the actual trophy – is the fishnet burns and the broken bones and the scars,” said “Mirambo,” or Miranda Lee-Tuckey Hannam. Because it’s a contact sport, a certain degree of discomfort is expected, said the 29-year-old deli worker. “It takes a special breed of woman to do this. I like to kick ass. I get out all my agression. I can beat these guys up and they still talk to me at the end of the day.”
Sonja Leal, whose derby name is “Sufferjet,” has had blood vessels broken in her thumb after someone skated over her hand. “This is not fake,” said Leal, 32. “Everything is real. If a girl gets in a fight and gets punched in the face, that’s real. If you get elbowed in the eye, that’s a penalty.”
Leal is the president of the Forest City Derby Girls and a jammer for the Thames Fatales, who lost the game 85-83. At five foot one and 106 pounds, Leal, a banker and a mother, is tiny compared to some of her teammates and competitors. “Some of these women are five foot eight and 280 pounds, and they’re hitting me. The key is, I’m fast and they’re not.” Leal says roller derby is a fine balance of skill, athleticism, and show.
The audience at the most recent bout seems to be a mix of hardcore derby fans and curious onlookers. A woman walks by with a “Derby Mom” T-shirt, fluorescent signs in the audience scream out support for team members, and the crowd shouts every time a skater falls.
During the halftime scuffle, a middle-aged woman yells out, “Punch her in the face!” But the audience just isn’t vocal enough for some players. A team member skates by the bleachers waving her arms, trying to incite the crowd to make some noise. “This isn’t a library, folks!” she yells. The crowd of about 400 cheers in response.
Miranda Lee-Tuckey Hannam says many of the league’s new players get involved in the sport after watching a bout from the bleachers. “That’s how we get all our new girls. Derby makes automatic fans.”
