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.

Digging the earth

Since the weather's taken a turn for the awesome, Wisconsin has made its annual mass migration to outdoor activities. And since this year I am the master of my schedule, I've been making a point to really enjoy the sunshine as much as possible.

That's still not super easy, as the work that actually makes me money (albeit still very little) tends to be a fairly solitary and indoor activity. And I am, by nature, neither of those things. But what can I say?

Oh writing, I just can't quit you.

Still, one of my other passions pulls me into the woods and countryside of our fair state fairly often: mountain biking. I know I've babbled on about how awesome the sport is before, but as I intend to keep at it until such time as my limbs fall off or something, you'll have to accept that I will be babbling about it more in the future.

I even had the opportunity to write my first mountain bike-centric article for Isthmus, to be published in the not-so distant future. As part of the research for the piece, and because it made for a good excuse to get out and do/see things I've been meaning to do/see for awhile anyway, me and the fella recently joined the Capital Off-Road Pathfinders (CORP for more easier) for an early-morning trail work session out at Cam-Rock.

Turns out the Cam-Rock III trail system, just outside of the quaint village of Cambridge and not so far from Madison, is really very nice. Lots of great, flowing singletrack and some seriously beautiful scenery. CORP and the park folk have done a great job of building and expanding the trails, and they continue to work on them every season.

On the day we went out to pitch in, we ended up assigned to a group that was building berms along the more advanced section of trail. Basically, it became a morning of digging and hauling (gorgeous black) dirt. But we also met some very friendly people and learned a thing or two about good trail construction. We also assisted in the creation of something like seven berms, which was no small feat. Perhaps, after all that work, I'll actually be able to rail said berms in an appropriately sweet and/or gnarly fashion.

I also need to work on my biker slang, apparently.

Anyway, it was good times and I was glad to finally do a bit more to earn my saddle time. See, a big component of mountain biking is the stewardship thing. Good riders are also good about chipping in to help keep the landscape ship-shape.

In addition to wanting to become a better rider for my own personal reasons there's also a professional goal behind that drive. This mountain biking article for Isthmus will be, I'm hoping, just the first of many. I'd like to parlay my love of the sport, my writing abilities (such as they are), and the fact that I'm a lady (omg you didn't know?!) into a bit of a career niche. That is, lady riders who write aren't exactly a dime a dozen (yet!) so maybe I can use that to my advantage. Because it'd be fulfilling for me, and because I'd like to do whatever small thing I can to help encourage more women to take up the sport, which I think would be great. So there's that.

Thank goodness

The economy is in crisis, unemployment is on the rise, we're at war in two countries (and occasionally bombing a few others as well), there's a presidential election coming up, our environment needs some serious TLC, massive amounts of people are losing their homes, and that hand-holding sea otter just died.

And yet, our dutiful U.S. Senators have found time to kick up a fuss over a perceived lack of NFL games being shown to the teams' home towns.

Several members of the U.S. Senate said the National Football League is not making enough football games available on free television for local fans.

The NFL has said that it provides free television broadcasts in the home cities of competing teams.

But the senators have written a letter to NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell saying the NFL is too narrowly interpreting what constitutes a home city.

For example, Pennsylvania Sen. Arlen Specter said the NFL does not consider the western Pennsylvania town of Johnstown to be part of the home market of the Pittsburgh Steelers.

The senators are asking the NFL to reconsider its policy. A message left with the NFL was not immediately returned.

Gosh, I feel so well represented by the Senate, I could just spit.

The iron men (and women) of Wisconsin

Every year, a sea of finely toned, well-trained triathletes descend on our humble city to participate in one of the world's most difficult races: the Wisconsin Ironman.

A qualifier for the big show in Hawaii, the Wisconsin Ironman race involves a 2.4 mile swim, followed by 112 miles of biking and a 26.2 mile marathon through the streets of Madison. To say this is a daunting task would be a vast understatement.

In year's past, my only real experience with this race came from trying to avoid it: "Oh man, don't go downtown today, it's Ironman and farmers market and a Badger game day!" This year, however, I decided to go check out the whole shebang, as up close as I could get without actually being affiliated with the race or any of its participants.

So at 6:00AM on Sunday morning, as the sun rose over clear skies and cool air, I rolled out of bed and made my way down to the Monona Terrace to catch the swim start. There was already a massive mob of spectators clogging the best vantage points (I got there a bit later than I ought to have), but I managed to sidle in atop a planter on the terrace roof for a good view of the churning, people-filled water below. It was quite a sight, serving to remind me, quite starkly, that I am not a great swimmer.

We then watched the first clump of racers out of the water running barefoot toward their bikes, then flying down one of the corkscrew parking ramps and out onto John Nolen Dr. for the next leg. So many pretty bikes, so little time!

Having gotten a tip about a good spot to watch the bikers coming up an incredibly steep hill, we drove out into the wilds of Middleton's far west side and went to snap more photos. Said hill was also well populated with spectators, all cheering wildly as each racer made their way up the daunting incline. We saw reams of custom-made "team" t-shirts supporting this or that participant: families and friends all out to show their support for what must have been months, if not years, of training and preparation. Nothing against the pro athletes who run these races, but I got a special kick out of seeing so many "amateurs" giving it their all, and getting special kudos from the assembled crowd.

After the hill (and lunch), we then headed back downtown to watch the final leg of the race: the marathon. Wandering up and down State St., I marveled at the fact that these runners had already done so much that day prior to hitting the pavement. Heck, I'm no slouch in the athletic department, but this was taking things to a level of which I have absolutely no comprehension. It was really impressive.

I managed to catch the top three women finish the race, as well as a handful of the under-10-hour men, and the joy/relief visible on so many faces was palpable and infectious. Perhaps most touchingly, we watched what I can only assume was a father/daughter duo come jogging toward the finish line, hand-in-hand. Talk about setting a good example for your kids!

All in all, it was a spectacular day to be outside, and an entertaining (and motivating) event to watch. Congrats to everyone who participated, and especially to all those who finished, regardless of time.

See more photos from the race at my Flickr photo set (more coming soon, too!).