A whole lotta me

Thanks to Craig Sauer for inviting me to be a guest on The Wisconsin Podcast! It's kind of rare that I get to be the one being interviewed, as opposed to the other way around, so it was great fun. You may also be unsurprised to find out that I can talk.

Topics covered ranged from my upbringing, coming out as queer, having a pastor father, writing weekly opinions for the MJS and dealing with online commentary/insults, the value and risk of social media, the hows and whys of Our Lives magazine and being an editor, roller derby, and the 2011 Wisconsin protests and state politics generally. SO MUCH STUFF.

Listen here: https://www.wispod.com/podcast-political-commentary-in-a-divisive-era-emily-mills-17/

And be sure to give his podcast the ol' subscribe!

Racism, Cultural Sensitivity, and Roller Derby

Back in September a skater from Florida posted to her personal Tumblr to call out a different Florida league, the Rebel Belles of Palm Harbor, Florida, accusing them of racism based on their team logo and colors.

In the post, Militant Bulstrode claims that the Belle’s gray, red, and blue uniforms—not to mention their kepi hat logo with crossed rifles—was representative of the Confederate flag and army uniforms from the American Civil War. This, Bulstrode argued, was evidence of racism within the league, and “the fact that they’ve completed a season (albeit an extremely short one) without being called out on their logo/jerseys/team name needs to be rectified immediately.”

The Rebel Belles responded to the ensuing deluge of criticism by writing and sharing a lengthy defense of the logo and uniforms, as well as stating that the accusations of racism were “false and slanderous.” They have also since changed the logo, and a post dated Nov. 12 says the league is “seriously considering rebranding.”

There’s no way to know the motivations of the individuals responsible for the initial branding of the league, barring psychic and time traveling abilities. Speculation about whether or not the individual members, or indeed the entire league, are harboring racist ideas or beliefs is futile unless those people come out and claim outright racist ideology. The Rebel Belles have not, to my knowledge, done so. They have, in fact, gone out of their way to claim to be an inclusive, non-discriminatory league.

There are two possibilities in this case, as far as I see it: Either the Rebel Belles were formed by Confederate sympathizers / white supremacists, or they simply demonstrated a deep lack of understanding of historical symbology and ignorance of their own white privilege.

I tend to go with Hanlon’s razor when it comes to this kind of thing: “Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.”

I say this not to impugn the overall intelligence of anyone with the Rebel Belles, but rather to point out that we’re all prone to doing stupid things from time to time. Some of those stupid things can stem from prejudices we didn’t even know we had, too—the difference lies in how we choose to recognize, address, and attempt to correct those things in the long run. And the relationship the U.S. has with its history—specifically the Confederacy and the Civil War—is fraught with whitewashing, misunderstanding, and worse (even feminist folksinger Ani DiFranco isn’t free from the pitfalls of historical and racial ignorance).

But that’s a whole other article. Let’s take a look at the facts in this particular case:

• The Rebel Belles named themselves after the rebel yell, the term coined for a battle cry specific to the Confederate army during the Civil War (and Florida, for those of you less familiar with U.S. history, was a member of the Confederate States of America, which seceded from the Union in 1861 and was then forcibly beaten back into the U.S. after losing the war in 1865).
• The Rebel Belles designed a logo using the gray kepi hat that was standard issue for Confederate soldiers during that war, with two crossed, red muskets underneath (also standard issue weapons during the war). The RB’s claim the logo was meant to emulate the Florida state flag, which does indeed feature a red St. Andrew’s Cross on a white field.
• The RB’s have gray home team uniforms, accented with red and blue. To claim that the use of the gray uniforms, and then the gray kepi, is simply homage to their “historic theme” demonstrates a rather baffling lack of sensitivity to the admittedly complex but deeply hurtful history in question. There may be no actual rebel battle flag in their logo, but the Confederacy is still all over their branding.

In the end, it seems as though the anger spurred by the team’s name/image has forced them to seriously reconsider and rebrand, which is ultimately a good thing for everyone involved. No matter how well meaning they might have been in attempting to give a nod to Florida’s past, the fact remains that said past is inescapably tied to slavery and subjugation, and the continued prejudice toward and oppression of minority populations in the U.S. that are that evil institution’s legacy.

There’s no place for that in roller derby (or anywhere, of course), a sport founded on the principle of inclusivity and bucking the status quo. It’s good to call out these things when we see them. This kind of cultural and racial insensitivity is sadly not limited to this one case, either. Painfully enough, the skater who penned the original Tumblr post calling out the RB’s is herself the member of a team called the Cannibals, whose men’s derby analog are called the Head Hunters. There are deeply problematic and culturally insensitive elements in those names, too (glass houses, etc).

Clearly, this is a much larger conversation we should be having—within roller derby, within sports (ahem, the Washington football team, anyone?), within our lives in general.

The point isn’t to get caught up in name calling or knee-jerk defensiveness, though, but rather to speak up when something is harmful and/or hurtful, speak from the heart, push for constructive change--and always, always be willing to listen and make your own changes when it’s you who’s guilty of stumbling.

The Church of Roller Derby

I was raised in the Presbyterian Church. My father was and is a minister, and my mother was heavily involved in everything from directing the children's choir to bake sales and other organizational duties.

Every Sunday morning I had to wake up early to attend services, usually grumbling about being made to sacrifice one of just two precious chances to sleep in each week. When I was very young, I remember that my mom would wisely resort to scratching my back during dad's sermons as a way to basically pacify me, keep me from squirming or causing trouble during these longer periods of inactivity and introspection.

I never hated church. There are aspects of church life and community that I really enjoyed, in fact--mostly the potlucks, the holiday pageants (or the weirdly ambitious stagings of musicals like Godspell), the bake sales, and later the youth group outings to do service work restoring homes for elderly folks or bringing gift baskets to the residents of a mental health institute.

Still, as soon as I left home for college, I stopped going. Partially this was because I moved to a new state and wasn't familiar with any of the church communities in my new city, but mostly because I had decided that I no longer felt comfortable calling myself a Christian.

I had, and have, too many serious objections to the overall bent of the Church--too focused on outmoded beliefs about women and queer people (both groups to which I belong), too guilty of misdeeds against the very people the church is supposed to exist to help: the poor, the downtrodden, the oppressed, the minorities.

I saw too much lip service to serving God and too little actual service.

There has been much written about the worldwide decline in people who identify themselves as religious and/or who attend church on a regular basis, especially among younger generations. It is, most certainly, a time of major transition and transformation. Splits. Schisms.

I see that as a good thing. The Powers That Be need a stark wake-up call from the rest of the world--among all the religions and communities--that they've strayed too far from the path that I think the majority of us know in our hearts is the righteous one: to help those less fortunate, to strive for a better world, to be open and inclusive.

You don't need to believe in God to believe in that.

So where does roller derby enter into all of this, you might be asking at this point?

I've been a member of my local roller derby community for just over a year now. In that time, I've frequently joked that the sport and its community have become my new church. It often involves getting up for 8 a.m. practices on Sunday mornings, after all. And I do it gladly!

But I've been thinking. It's a whole lot more than that. And there's really something to the joke:

Roller derby is an amazing sport that requires an enormous amount of time, dedication, hard work, mental and physical discipline (don't believe me? watch the championship match between Gotham and Texas from this past weekend).

Roller derby is also an amazing community of people from diverse backgrounds and with differing abilities and talents, one that places a big emphasis on community outreach and charitable giving. The Mad Rollin' Dolls, my home league, has raised tens of thousands of dollars for local non-profits over the years. They've spent countless hours doing service work, too: packing Thanksgiving baskets for those in need, building homes for farm animal sanctuaries, serving up food at community events, being part of Make-A-Wish days, and a whole lot more.

They also band together when one of their own is in need. Right now, for instance, there's a massive fundraising drive for a Milwaukee skater who was shot during a mugging. I've seen derby folk from other countries jump in to help out with medical bills, housing needs, and more whenever called upon. We get each others' backs.

Roller derby is also, by and large, an incredibly inclusive community. We were founded by the outcasts and queers who wanted a sport of their own in a world that typically shunned them. We've built this thing from the ground up, mostly through the blood, sweat and tears of volunteer work. We have our troubles, our fights, like any family--but we stick together and find solutions. We take all-comers, so long as you're willing to give back in a positive way. Black, white, queer, straight, trans, religious, atheist--it's an open door policy.

This is my church. This is my home. This is the world I want to live in and want to help build for everyone. Whether or not you're interested in strapping on a pair of skates and ramming yourself into other human beings doesn't matter (I just happen to really enjoy that). The point is, we should apply this same ethic of service, inclusion, and community to all aspects of our lives.

You want butts back in seats at your house of worship but aren't willing to make real changes? I'd rather put on skates and roll into something better. But if you're serious, the examples of how to do more, to grow and evolve and bring people on board--they're right here, at the Church of Roller Derby.

The end is the beginning: Winter (2013) is coming

2012. Well damn. This is traditionally the time to reflect on the year that was, and make plans / resolutions / angry faces at the one that's about to barrel drunkenly through your door.

All I'll say about 2012, though, for the sake of brevity (you have better things to do, right? like make those snacks for the party tomorrow night) is that it was a big one for me - full of invaluable learning experiences, frustrating setbacks, and incredible transitions.

I've just started my ridiculously cool new job as the editor of Our Lives magazine, for instance, and my thumbprint will be fully on the March/April issue (god willing and the creek don't rise).

That combines with another major change, in that my longtime collaborator/partner-in-crime Jesse Russell, one of the founders of Dane101.com and an all-around stand-up gent, is heading off to the West Coast for greener pastures come February.

Fire Ball V, then, will likely be the last big event I help produce for some time, as well as Jesse's going away party. There are still some really sweet VIP hotel/ticket package deals available for sale, by the way, and regular ol' tickets, too. It's going to be a ridiculously fun weekend and you should come for one night at least, if not both. Seriously, I mean it. You'll be so sad if you miss it. So sad.

I'm not giving up on entertainment entirely, of course: I'll be throwing a monthly queer dance party starting January 19 at the Inferno, called REAL QUEER (natch). This is a project I've been mulling for several years and I am ridiculously excited to see it finally come to fruition (ehehe, "fruit"). You don't have to be queer to come check it out, but it helps.

And then there's roller derby. The new/old love of my life. I hope to be doing a lot of that in the coming year. Strange to be starting a brand new sport at 31, but goddamn is it fun.

So I hope the year has been, overall, good to you - and if it hasn't, fuck it - 2013 is still entirely unwritten. Shoulders back, chin up, and make it happen.