Bittersweet Goodbyes

On October 5, 2010, nine of the ten remaining members of Belles 'n' Bombshells roller derby voted unanimously to close the league permanently after a one-month hiatus. We needed that hiatus to clear our heads, to discern whether there was anything about our league that was salvageable after the detonation of such long-held grudges, the collapse of our schedule, the lack of confidence that positive change could be enacted. When the smoke cleared, we were at peace with the idea that we were voting to permanently close something that had been an integral part of life for a year or more.

Our Articles of Dissolution have not yet been filed, and remain in my possession. Yes, I've been busy, and haven't had time to get them notarized. But there's hardly a time I wouldn't have been busy during a teaching semester, and if I'd really wanted to get it notarized, I could have done it by now. I think the real reason that a part of me held on to these papers because I needed time to say goodbye.

By way of a benediction and eulogy, I'd like to start this entry proper with a quote: "Some people come into our lives and leave footprints in our heart, and we are never the same."

Belles 'n' Bombshells was that- a group of men and women who have impacted me deeply. Through them, I have learned more about change, acceptance, passion, commitment, grit, fear, and heartbreak than I ever thought I could from just playing a sport. I learned that fear was the only thing that held me back from skating instead of reffing. I learned that knowing your teammates believe in and respect you is one of the things that will solidify commitment and grit. I have learned that acceptance breeds acceptance, and that if you approach the open-hearted with an open heart, there is no end to the depth of your love for these steadfast friends. I have learned that passion leads to victory, but that it also leads to heartbreak, and that this is a risk you take when you give your all.

I began skating with Belles 'n' Bombshells as an impressionable person begging for the acceptance I felt I had never been given by my previous team. Begging for the chance to show that I could be a good skater, a skater that the team needed to succeed. I got what I wanted in spades- and not just on the track. After the whole ordeal passed, I realized that the team's need for me was about more than just my skating ability. Long after girls who had started with me, or even after me, had surpassed my skill level, they looked to me for leadership, reassurance, and acceptance. That fired my passion for the team and the sport, my belief that we could make it through anything as a team, if we only did it together. My passion emerged from the heat press of a physically and emotionally difficult season and the heartache caused by the ending of it all as a hard-pressed diamond. It sits now at the center of my chest, firing me onward, speeding past my limits, driving me towards achievement and acceptance, fueled by white heat desire to be good at this sport that I love, to be valuable to this team I have recommitted to.

The people I have met are gems in the crown of friendship. In Zelda Fistgerald, I found an intelligent, witty, passionate woman who shared my love of the written word, a kindred spirit who I miss dearly since BnB ended. Roll-r-Reaver showed me a down-to-earth, practical spirit and off-kilter humor that made me smile and relax; with her, I felt a realness, knowing that she didn't sugarcoat her feelings, but nor did she judge situations based on unbalanced anger. In Izumi Mystique, I saw grit far beyond my own. Setback after setback, my second little sister (Reaver was the first) continued coming back to practice because she wanted this, in much the way I wanted it when I first started. Mad Malice and Double Tap were interesting sides of the same coin - related by blood, if not often in opinion, they each showed me (in different ways) passion for the sport, creativity, dedication, and fearlessness. To me, there was never a question of whether or not Malice and Double Tap were committed to the team, or a question of their plainspoken, open hearts. Invader Slim showed me her wit, humor and compassion, her dedication to thinking through a problem logically, instead of with her emotions, as some of us admittedly did. Those who left the team and formed a new one shouldn't be left out either- I was inspired too by their creativity, intelligence, and their ability to know when it was time to let go.

I feel like I can't leave my ex-derby wife out either. From the point that I started skating with BnB, Ember was a monolithic influence on me as a skater. It was hard to tell sometimes whether it was good or bad- and even when I was upset with her, I'd remember a happier time that would melt away anger and make me smile. Ember to me is an enigma- a wild fount of passion for the sport and dedication to her team coupled with a crushing desire for control over her own (and thus our) fate and an unpredictable temper that made it impossible for me to love her fully, no matter how much I wanted to. I saw a lot of myself in her, and I understood her mind, even if I didn't understand why it chose the modes of operation that it did. I feel like it wouldn't be honest to say that I was surprised that Ember eventually cut me out of her life. I knew she would- I knew when I became her derby wife that it wouldn't last. But regardless, I gave her all my loyalty until I simply could not do it and remain true to myself anymore. There were times when it broke my heart to think of losing Ember as a friend or as a derby wife, but I slowly came to understand that it was part of the inevitable flow of many of Ember's relationships, one of her patterns. I was a passing whim, and now that the whim has passed, the connection has died- not with a bang, but a whimper. Our mutual chapter, like many others in life, will have no well-written ending, but simply the ragged edge of an unfinished sentence.

I consider myself lucky to have found Vixen and Midnight, however. They say when you meet people, sometimes, you just know. When I met them, I knew. I remember wondering to myself, once, when I first started with BnB, if Midnight might be my derby wife. I remember loving Vixen's big heart and wide open laugh from the moment I first met her. When they became derby wives, I won't lie- I was a little saddened by it. But nonetheless, Midnight and Vixen were the two I remained closest to during my entire tenure with the Belles. I am proud to call them my derby wives, because our story is the other side of my story with Ember- friendships that are meant to be, that don't run achingly hot and cold like undecided early autumn in Alabama. Loyalty as solid as the rink under your feet and as dependable as a teammate's whip at just the right time. They are sweet, talented, vibrant big-hearted and protective. By way of an anecdote, when things with BnB went south, both Midnight AND Vixen told me that they had wanted to leave the team, but they hadn't because they didn't want to leave me by myself. I was never able to truly explain to them how much that meant to me, to know that my well-being was such a concern to them. I have never met people that fill my heart with the love of true friendship the way they do. It goes far beyond derby, and it always will.

These are the people that I have lost. Of all of them, Slim and I are the only ones who still skate together. For one reason or another, the rest haven't continued derby, or at least haven't immediately continued derby. I can see why they would be soured by the experience, especially knowing that many of us got rough treatment (not to mention a lot of uncharitable distrust from Montgomery's new league) based on behavior that wasn't our fault, or even our own. After being sucked into such a tornado of negativity, why would you want to keep skating?

I wish I could remind them. Every Wednesday and Sunday, I sink into the whir of wheels around a rink painted sickly blue. I listen to and join in on laughter that is free, easy, and silly- people having an unconstrained good time with their teammates. I absorb the words of teammates slash teachers when they tell me about my mistakes or teach me new skills or strategies. Above all, I skate. I skate, and I skate. And I run, and I jump, and I sweat. I push, harder than I did before. I want, more than I did before. I strive. I live it. I love it. This is where the addiction starts. Once, we all knew this needle to the vein feeling, the anticipation of the next time you would become a mechanical biped and strap eight wheels to your feet. I remember now the inexorable blurring of lines between my "real life" and derby, of coming to the point where Mary Helley is here more often than she's not.

I can't change the way things unfolded. I can't take away the bitterness that many of us felt (or still feel) about some of our sisters starting another team in Montgomery and destroying ours with it. I can't take away the emotional, stressful time that we spent between August 28th and October 5 dealing with the fallout of it all, and struggling to maintain a league that was clearly tanking.

What I can do is make sure that the last act of Belles 'n' Bombshells is one of good karma. Before we file our papers, we will be donating all of our remaining money to the Sunshine Center, a local women and children's shelter that does great work in the Montgomery community: a shelter, advocacy, education, prevention, even post-shelter support to make sure that women and children do not return to dangerous, abusive situations. We may not have been able to control the way things fell out after the schism that killed the league, but we can control where the money we consistently struggled with goes. And it goes back to what spawned us in the first place- the Montgomery community, so desperate for something as positive, uplifting, and exciting as a roller derby team. Now, I hope that we'll give back what the community gave to us: positivity, friendship, love.

I'm filing the papers this week. Those papers don't hurt me emotionally- but what I do regret is that the joy that is roller derby was taken away from so many people who needed and deserved the experience. I'd like to tell them that the experience is still out there, and that you only have to open yourself to it again, but many of these beautiful women may well feel that you can only intelligently put your hand into a fire once before you're just asking for whatever you get.

But I believe in this sport, and I believe in second chances. I believe in friendship, support, and teamwork. Like my zombie incarnation on the track, I will rise from certain destruction, and I will conquer my fears.

I'll end this eulogy with an Irish blessing, for the sisters I was never born with, the friends I didn't even know I was missing: "May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be forever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face, and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, may God hold you in the hollow of his hand." Love and health to you all.