The Roller Derby World Cup 2018, an international taste of feminism in Manchester.

"I raise up my voice - not so I can shout but so that those without a voice can be heard. We cannot succeed when half of us are held back."Malala Yousafzai

I could write, rewrite, dismiss, start again, edit and give up, eternally if I tried to express the significance of International Womens Day to me.

I cannot compress the subtlety of emotions and knife-edge views I have, so instead, I want to recount my experience at the Roller Derby World Cup. Here is a yarn about a culture that has had a go at cultivating an empowering environment for those who identify as being female. Roller Derby is not perfect, because we are imperfect creatures, but it’s a space that at least has harboured some semblance of representation and inclusivity that is not all about white women.

Nobody in their right mind ever wants to wait in a queue that wraps itself around a huge convention center. They are even less likely to want to wait in said line if it’s in Manchester, in the winter, and the perpetual grey mass of sky is dribbling on them. But, wait they will. The Roller Derby World Cup is being held within the walls of Event City and 38 teams are participating.

4 tracks await inside. 51 merchandise stands await inside. 532 skaters await inside.

As I assumed, the 4-day event, in which 95 games were played, epitomised what you expect from the pounding heart that drives roller derby: inclusivity, respect, mental stamina, physical prowess, a lot of tattoos, a lot of different hair colours, mostly sober fans, the widest range of trainers you’ve ever seen anywhere, camaraderie, gender fluidity and freedom of expression. If this sounds like I was living in a bubble, I can assure you I wasn’t.

Being a participant at the Roller Derby World Cup, selling merch for Team Wales, felt like being at one with a global community. It was too easy to assume I was there in solidarity with progress.

Searching the #RDWC2018 immediately showed that even with a female Prime Minister, even after the Weinstein debacle, even with Emma Watson making Belle a new kind of princess for girls to aspire to and even after Oprah’s seminal ‘Time’s Up’ speech, men chose to vocalise their resentment and misogyny towards the sport.

I won’t dwell, but here are two of the more innocuous comments that made my chest tighten with rage for questioning the validity of the Roller Derby World Cup Final being broadcast at all on BBC Sport:“Desperate to show some sport since you let all the good stuff go, but really, Roller Derby!?” (Ended with a crying with laughter emoji)“

Stay tuned for exclusive live coverage of the world pass the parcel championships!”I don’t expect everyone to care about or enjoy roller derby, it’s very hard to follow, I’ve been playing for a few years and still get muddled because of the fast pace (the concussions and fear probably contribute too!).

However, I had expected people to pause before they typed. Why invalidate a whole sport, and all its competitors, from 38 different countries, without ever actually having seen it? The underlying assumption that because it’s women it probably won’t be that good, or ‘real’ full-contact. (Suddenly, I feel a little more sympathetic to Cheerleaders who have bemoaned this attitude for many years)

I’m not going to justify the sport. I don’t need to, it roars loud enough for itself. I will, however, indulge you with my highlights and paint you the reality of what the roller derby community is really like, because that’s how anyone who has ever been part of it views it, as a weirdly wonderful extended family:

1. Unisex toilets were provided so members of our community that are trans could feel comfortable. Those unisex toilets were constantly in use by all.

2. Team USA mostly took a knee when their National Anthem was played. Scald Eagle, their most successful jammer and a huge icon in the roller derby world, decided to stand with her hand at her heart. This act got everyone, in hushed tones, chattering about whether they were comfortable or not with her patriotism. Whatever your view, it is remarkable that the same team can be so united and respect their differences on such a provocative issue.

3. Team Australia did not play their national anthem at the start of the final, instead, they gave their time slot over to a representative of Team Indigenous. The whole crowd, along with both teams, stood for a minute silence in the memory of the many murdered indigenous people and the continuing slaughter of women. None of us expected it and obviously, particularly in this political climate with those particular teams in the final, there was a heaviness in the air, the weight of our nation’s past actions that we still bear. Instead of shrinking from the responsibility we made a quiet pact to work towards a better future. One small reminder, one small silence, one small mark of unity; they become something bigger, something opaque.

4. Team Romania (made up of Romanian expats living in Sweden, the U.K, Canada and the USA) had not actually met prior to the week of the tournament. Despite being allowed to roster 14 players, they only had 10. On the first day, they got thrashed by Mexico 245-6 and beaten by 149-41 at the wheels of Austria. Their run didn’t improve! They lost all their games. They came to the tournament knowing they would lose all their games. They still sold out of their bat-themed merch; they were exemplary examples of people trying to transcend the boundaries imposed on them by their culture and opportunities. One of the players told me, “it’s hard to skate there, we are still behind the Iron Curtain you know? That’s why our skaters don’t live there, but hopefully, in the future”.

5. The cheers for Wales were bonkers. Not a single person who watched their hammering from the USA (who went on to win the entire thing) could get “Sally! Sally Jones!” (sung in the style of ‘Daddy! Daddy Cool!’ off the tip of their tongue for the rest of the tournament. I was floored by the magnitude of the chanting, it was relentless. Maybe the association with roller derby being for the kooks and outsiders makes us all sentimental for the underdogs. Either way, Wales finished 11th in the world but felt like the crowd favourite.

6. There were a family that wore ostensibly large inflatable unicorn outfits around their bodies for all the Scotland games, to match the team’s emblem. They managed to wedge themselves right up against the suicide seating demarcation line (the floor space closest to the track, where it’s accepted a player might end up in your lap and nobody will be to blame). People didn’t begrudge some partial obscurity of visibility when a gold horn would suddenly lurch into the air as one of the party adjusted their position or got overly enthusiastic with their screaming. If you think this sounds like a ‘fluffy filler’, I might have to concur, I just want to prove I’m not a Feminasty, I don’t take everything so seriously that I can’t appreciate unicorns.

7. It takes a village (with an enlightened male minority) to make an event of this scale work! So. Many. Volunteers. Each track had about 15 people manning it, always! Doing everything from reffing to track repair; commentating; keeping score and timing penalties. Each merch stand had about 4 people rotating over the course of the 9am-9pm day, a total of about 152 bodies. There even had to be Heavies on the door, wearing gender-neutral yellow and black design T-shirts, at-all-times. It’s remarkable, that so many people gave up 4 full days, despite juggling a multitude of commitments, to do unpaid work; many probably using limited holiday days in the process.

It’s more than just being an incredibly generous person, or sharing a passion for the sport though, the returns you get are manifold, as Mel Whittaker pointed out, “I loved how fab everyone was with my daughter; being an NSO at the World Cup as a single mum to a 7-week-old was a bit daunting. I had a friend with me to help with childcare, but my crew & other officials loved having her for cuddles, other folk I knew through Derby were so pleased to see her and she even got a shout out from the commentators as the youngest supporter there! I can’t think of any other sport where I’d have felt that welcomed. Total strangers were so lovely to us and supportive of her being there.” In roller derby circles, your value doesn’t decrease when you become a mother. You can and will be accommodated; even if you’re no prominent skater and never make it into the programme. If you choose this tribe, they will accept you.

The merch for this sport is surpassed by none. The pop culture references ranging from the classic to cheeky and right through the spectrum to enlightening. Roller derby merchandise is bold, neon, sequinned and sometimes, silly. “Jammer, you’re dead? Yeah man.” has everyone, except me who didn’t get the Cool Runnings reference, scrambling for their size at the West Indies stall.

Team England’s image of choice was dear ol’ Queenie, dripping in bling, arms folded, sporting a sash and shades with the word, “Yaaas” scrawled across the background. Rupaul would be so proud! Herstory Hunty!

If other sports find politics an anathema that they’d like to leave neatly packaged at the gate, roller derby is the converse host, offering out ‘how could we improve?’ cards on entry. From day one, without any time to have taken into consideration the atmosphere or clientele, I saw someone wearing a ‘Fuck white supremacy’ T-shirt. She felt safe to do so in that environment, probably didn’t even consider her choice, because roller derby attracts the sort of people who want progress too, who will acknowledge their own privilege, even if it makes them squirm, so that we can move forward more collectively. Leaving no woman behind.

Sticking to provocative slogans, I saw a white woman chatting to the merch reps of the West Indies Team in her ‘Black Lives Matter’ tee; she left with a shirt and they added coins to their coffers; smiles all around.

Fear Leaders: Vienna’s very own male cheerleaders. Yes, they wear bright orange Lycra. Yes, they practice. Yes, they were well-received at half-time of the final. Yes, the screaming, foot-stomping and clapping lasted the duration of the routine. No, they are not mocking female cheerleaders. These men got into a formation that allowed them to look like a bird, then they flapped their wings! Youtube them immediately.

If there’s any doubt left in your mind about the value this sport has when it comes to offering a safe space for empowering women, or for anyone who identifies as a woman, or for anyone who supports equality let me throw you a bone to chew over: The unity is not superficial or reserved for the Roller Derby World Cup.While prominent sports like football might promote slogan-stamped wristbands and pedal out the platitudes from its pedestal and tottering tower of wealth; roller derby leagues actively engage in putting a spotlight on discrimination. They challenge the stigmatisation of mental health issues, all year around. (It has nothing to do with tax breaks or glossing over scandals or tax evasion). Even little nobody leagues participate in global citizenship:

• Leeds Roller Derby collaborated with Inkwell Arts in 2015, to curate an exhibition entitled, ‘Hit So Hard’ showcasing the many faces of roller derby and raising money for their local Mind (mental health charity) branch.

• Team Crazy Legs’s moniker is an attempt to reclaim a slur leveled against the disabled. They formed purely to bring people with mental and chronic illness together and promote their visibility. This team highlights that mental health suffers do not necessarily ‘look’ ill or outwardly ‘sad’; forcing us to face our unfounded perceptions of the ‘type’ of person who is ‘really’ suffering.

• Two skaters in Glasgow crowdfunded ‘Resistance Roller Derby’, a team for junior queer and trans skaters. RRD is a direct result of recognising the higher rates of mental health issues and the higher likelihood of suicide within LGBTQ youth and then doing something about it, creating a ‘safe space’.

• The Louisey Rider Cup is hosted annually by Nottingham Roller Derby, in memory of Louise Wright, (a skater of theirs that was killed in a road accident in 2014) and in the last two years has raised a total of £7,000 for road safety charity Brake.

• Ohio’s Burning River Roller Derby, who sometimes play full-contact musical chairs, host an annual event where the audience get to pit their favourite players against each other! All proceeds go to a cause the team care about, 2017’s funds benefited the Cleveland American Veteran's Association.

Nobody in their right mind ever wants to wait in a queue that wraps itself around a huge convention center.

But, wait they will. Every roller derby world cup.Inside solidarity awaits.Inside the resistance awaits.

Inside the future awaits. This International Womens Day, I want to share this from the RDWC 2018: It’s a snippet of an interview I had with two members of Team Iran; I was trying to make sense of why they were called Team IRN and why, like Team Romania, they had only met as a team in Manchester. In their own words: “There are boycotts around Iran, as the country but also as just a word, so actually the international banking system is boycotting-” (The second player cuts-in) “it is set-up to flag the word, websites as well, PayPal, Go Fund Me.” The first speaker continues, “It began with the registration, to the world cup, so you know each team has to pay an amount for the registration fee, and we couldn’t actually do it, I mean we ended up doing it perfectly, but we had so many issues because the PayPal account wouldn’t work because of the name of the team that was ‘Iran’. So that was the first issue, the second one was with our crowdfunding campaign, we had problems with the website that we used because they wanted us to prove that we wouldn’t send the money to Iran which is really hard to prove actually!”

Companies have decided that if there’s a chance money might end up in Iran, your campaign or product cannot run or be sold. Hence. ‘Team IRN’.  This might just sound like a semantic issue but how can “the community outside of the country” ever recruit players from within those demarcation lines that serve to ‘other’ their peers living in Iran? So integral are their Iranian roots to the perception others have of them, yet the noun itself is off limits. The people denied; guilty by association. Worse, they are uninformed about this, only finding out at point of contact, when trying to register to play competitive sport.

Team Iran chose to use the Simorgh as their emblem; a creature, from folklore, large enough to carry off a whale and holds the entire knowledge of the universe in its possession. “The legend says that a lot of birds were living together with some discord and they decided to find their royalty, like the divine bird to rule them.

They go through several adventures and at the end they get to a small group of 30 birds, in Persia we call Moor, they got to that portal where the king should be, the Simorgh should be, and at the end they find out they are the Simorgh, all of them together. So yeah, Simorgh means 30 birds actually, we are not 30 birds, yet! But the thing is to say, we all are the Simorgh and we all have to achieve and give ourselves the means to achieve that… We got very harmoniously into these games.

”I don’t want to overstate this, but something that struck me about the interview was the relentless enthusiasm the players had. If these women had chosen to play for the countries they reside in, they would have had more success on the track, but they decided to resist becoming homogenised and having their culture absorbed rather than celebrated.

Sometimes you have to get beaten to win.

Resist!