World Domination Part 2; Part 3 pending....

In the last post on World Domination, I originally wrote:

I wouldn't call derby girls... negative or rude or brash (although we can, indeed, be all those things).. I just think that there comes that point when roller derby creates in us this empowered, strong, raging woman, and we can't deal with things that hold us down, or keep us back from being who we are, achieving the things that we want.

Derby has done this for me.

Derby has changed the way I see the world, the way I view women and women-owned/operated organizations, men, jobs.. Everything.

Personally, there's a change I need to make... Slightly edit the words I chose, because I chose incorrectly.

See, "can't" and "won't" aren't the same. "Can't" insinuates that we can't hack the pressure, that we fold and we give.
"Won't" is so much stronger. "Won't" is like giving Life the finger for the hand you were dealt, and saying you're going to kick its ass for being such a dick.

Can't.. is, pardon the language, for pussies. Can't means you're weak and you're giving up.
Won't... well, won't is such an ass-kicking word, now isn't it?


It took a long time for me to find, and come to terms with, my inner roller girl, to finally give life the finger and start kicking ass.
Quite a long time, actually.

In the past few years (7 years to be exact), I've had 4+ majors, got the boot from both my degree department AND my sorority while I was president of the 'professional fraternity for women'. I ran away to the desert to find myself, leaving my already in-shambles life and (then) wonderful boyfriend behind.. I came back, was dumped, was actually homeless for a little while (thank GOD for good friends who let me crash at their place until my lease started). I had no money, no apartment, my managers weren't giving me any hours.. It looked very possible that I wouldn't be able to take classes because while studying abroad, the FinAid office messed up all 20 of our accounts/scholarships/grants/loans, making it look as if we had not paid our bill, and therefore could not register for classes.. Making it look like we needed to pay $6500 up front, out of pocket. It began looking very likely that I'd have to drop out of school and work for a while...

But let's rewind just a tiny bit...
On the 12 hour flight back from the desert, I watched a little film called Whip It.
I am absolutely not ashamed to say that Whip It was my catalyst to becoming a derby girl.
Before Whip It, I didn't even know roller derby existed.

When I came back to the states, and arrived at the University, I was greeted by an ugly fight with my then-boyfriend. See, he'd started to pretend I didn't exist while I was thousands of miles away, across an ocean. So, things were, to say the least, tense.
I would've ended it, but when we first started dating, his fraternity brothers threatened me if I broke his heart... So I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of his brothers saying 'I told you so'.
My pride was already sore, so I couldn't - wouldn't - give in to his frat brothers.

It was more of a divorce than a break-up.
The awkward fact that we have a large circle of friends and constantly run into each other.. The fact that his friends were mine, and mine his (which, would later become VERY apparent, since he started dating one of my especially easy 'friends' shortly after he left me.. which is also a pride issue, because when you won't give it up, it seems they'll seek out someone who will.. when you're across the ocean.. in a third world country, stomping throuhg fields looking for ancient pottery). The fact that it took him MONTHS - literally MONTHS- to return my things back to me, and when he did, he gave them to one of my friends instead of me.
(However, he should've known me well enough to know that he had to come to me in order to get his things back...)

This post is not about him.
It is not about our relationship, or his shitty fraternity brothers, or deciding who gets to keep which friends and which DVDs...
This post is about ME.
It's about how lost and broken I was after all those things happened in rapid succession.
It's about what a mess I was.
WAS.

When he was too afraid to return my things to me, in person, I realized I was a derby girl. Through and through.
It was the moment when I finally felt strong, powerful and intimidating.

Who knew it would take a messy, ugly break-up, a trip to a smelly cave in the middle of nowhere in east-jesus Jordan, a bit of being homeless and broke to realize how powerful I am, how much I can handle, how I am strong and alive.. And how much I'd forgotten in that year and a half.

I matter.
I matter.
I matter.

I had mattered. I did matter. I've always mattered. And I forgot.

I attribute parts of becoming a derby girl to the lessons I learned in Jordan, playing in the dirt.
(Find my blog/memoirs on my trip here )
I was slowly realizing that I'm tough and resilient and can take anything. WILL take anything, and I will beat it.
Jordan was hard work. It tested my physical boundaries, my mental and emotional boundaries, boundaries with some of my favorite people in the world... and I beat it.
Being Jordan meant I could fight, and win. When the chips are down, and I have swollen mosquito bites and I throw up in the field and I'm forced to go home by my field supervisor because I still wanted to work while sick... I learned I could conquer.

See, we all have our journeys to becoming a roller girl. They're all similar, but they all matter, because what is derby other than finding out how truly capable you are of living? Of beating the odds? Of kicking ass?

It's honestly not very fun to rehash all the ways I was slowly turning into a derby girl. It's not. There were some rough times that I'm, honestly, not quite over yet. There was a lot of shit in my life. I was worn down, and kicked around, and beat up. So I ran away.
Hell, I'll own up to it. I ran away.
Thousands of miles away, across an ocean, to an entirely different culture, to a third world environment where I had to pee in Turkish toilets and learn to love goat meat, to live and work for a few months with people I barely knew.
It was a gamble, I know. But I chose it. I ran away.
When I came back, I told people I ran away to the desert to find myself.
Before I went, I cried and fought it and cried some more.
I was being a baby - did i really want to leave my reliable plumbing, drinkable tap water and manfriend who made me steaks and force fed me jelly beans and made me laugh when I was sad because I burned the biscuits we were supposed to eat for breakfast?

I couldn't have made a better choice. I ran away because I couldn't hack it.
"can't" is a powerful word, even if it is, indeed, for pussies.
I had convinced myself I couldn't do it. I couldn't handle my life.

My life didn't change from "can't" to "won't" until August 2010.
I was terrified. I made Amy, my now-wife, go with me to recruitment.
I was SO SO scared.
I'm actually pretty sure I threw up before I went into the rink.

Looking back, being that afraid was so silly.
But we're all derby girls (and boys) here, so let's call a spade a spade, be honest, and remind ourselves that we were all scared.
Derby girls are some of the most terrifying women on the planet. FACT. (Which is the entire reason I feel comfortable titling this post about derby "World Domination". Because, duh, roller derby and all of us living in the culture are so entirely capable of taking over the world.)

See, I'd had experience with organizations for, and by, women. It was actually a professional fraternity for women. Our goal was to be strong, upstanding women, to be role models to little girls in our profession.
Let's just say that experience didn't end so well for me since I got kicked out of both my degree program AND my sorority because of some not-very-awesome women. ...And hell, maybe they've gone through transformations too, but then... They were not very awesome. They were hateful and rude and it made me hate girls. I hated all things girl. I hung out with boys, I spent my time in frat houses- I stayed the hell away from girls, because I couldn't take it.

Couldn't. Not wouldn't.

So, it put a bad taste in my mouth. I imagined that all girls were conniving and self-serving. That they were mean and manipulative. That girls were not to be trusted.
See, roller derby was everything I imagined myself to be.. Or wanted to be.
Strong, kick ass, intimidating, respected females who also wear fishnets, eyeliner and tutus? Women who were self-assured and could hold their liquor?
I wanted to be all the women of roller derby.

I needed to be all the women of roller derby.

Because I simply couldn't handle life the way it had been arranged for me.

So, August 27th, I strapped on a pair of rental skates and glided around the rookie track like a baby calf on ice.
Maybe "glided" isn't the right word. I stumbled and faltered.
I wasn't good.
At all.
I couldn't skate.
I fell a lot.
My legs wouldn't work with me so cross overs were out of the question.

I honestly don't remember any of the drills we did, or anything that was said.
But I do remember how I felt once it was over.
Relieved.

Relieved that I'd found something worth fighting for, something worth attaining.
Relieved I could believe in women again.

Relieved I could start believing in myself again.

Could.
And would.

Derby isn't half assed. The women involved are not pussies. It is hard, and hard core. The culture is both forgiving and unforgiving. You either live it, or you don't. Can't doesn't exist. ...Unless you break a bone, or get a hematoma.. then can't might sneak into your vocabulary. "I can't bend my knee" "I can't lift my arm." But those are different than "I can't mend my broken spirit" "My heart is too broken, I can't go on."

Derby girls know injuries.
We know that hematomas hurt like hell, and bench you for a while. We know that broken collar bones damn near put us out of commission and make us miserable. We know the pain of torn ligaments and plates and screws. We also know heartbreak, the pain of a broken spirit, the sting of life's cruel jokes when we're broke and broken.
But we know that it's much more painful to not get up.
We don't say "I can't get up". We say "I fucking will get up - I'll show you, Life". (and then we cunch life straight in its vagina...)

But resilience is just a small part of our World Domination plan - I wouldn't want to share too much. :)