Roller derby evolved from a violent spectacle into a genuine competitive sport for women, exploding in popularity in north carolina and around the world other sports indy week

The thirty-six-year-old positions herself on an oval track laid out in red tape on the concrete floor. The tape separates her from the rest of the cavernous exhibit hall in the Raleigh Convention Center, a third of which is filled with people ranging from tattooed, vibrant-haired young folks to plaid-shirted parents and their kids. Some sit at the edge of the track, putting their cups of local craft beer at risk should a body come careening across floor. By the bathrooms, drag queens are teasing the tangles out of curly brown wigs and preparing for their moment of lip-syncing fame at halftime.

Clobbers focuses on four women directly ahead of her.


When the game begins, they will press shoulders to shoulders, hips to hips, and kneepads to kneepads, locked in a grueling effort to keep Clobbers from breaking through their ranks and finding the freedom to go zooming around the oval’s curve.

Before play starts, Clobbers may not seem too intimidating. She stands near the average derby height of 5’4", wearing her game-day black pants and black-and-red jersey, spicing up the look with a red kerchief around her neck. Her helmet covers braided hair, also red, and short bangs.

Derby drew in Clobbers because it was one of the few competitive sports for adult women, offering a group of teammates that its players describe as a family or a sorority—even, sometimes, as a cult. But what makes derby special is that it is a sport for skaters, by skaters.

Clobbers and the Rollergirls, a group of about twenty-five women, most in their twenties and thirties, had arrived for this season opener, a double-header against the Greensboro Roller Derby, at eleven in the morning. In the six hours before the whistle, they transform a hall three times larger than their usual practice space into an arena with a track taped on the floor and chairs for at least six hundred fans. They do each other’s makeup—a touch of red lipstick, maybe some eyeshadow—take team pictures, warm up, skate their hardest for two hours, end play at nine at night, pack up, hit the after-party, and then show up the next morning at nine for practice. It’s draining. It’s a time suck. And when it’s time to pay the $55 monthly dues and purchase gear, it’s not a cheap one.

But all around the world, in twenty countries on five different continents, women are making roller derby happen. Their sport is an outlet for teams, fans, announcers, deejays, and referees to engage, be aggressive, and act loud and bold and free. The derby community accepts the fact that they have stomachs, thighs, and butts, and that it doesn’t matter what a skater does for a living. As long as she can show the world her all, she is enough.

The Rollergirls’ Mirtha Barner, or Miss Merica, was one of those kids. She watched roller derby on TV in the early nineties and remembers the grudge matches, the elbows to the face, the flipping over rails, and other choreographed antics that made it much more like pro wrestling than the professional, competitive sport it became in the 2000s.

The current version deals more in muscle power and tactics, hitting hard to score points instead of making a spectacle. Two teams of five women face off on the track. Eight are blockers, the main defense, and two are jammers, the main offense.

Clobbers is a jammer. She wears a black helmet cover with a red star, and it is her job to break through the other team’s blockers to score points. After she dodges, sidesteps, or simply barrels through the group, she skates the length of the track and enters the fray again, earning a point for each member of the opposite team she passes.

As a blocker, Barner, a third-year derby player, uses her body to stop the opposing jammer but also to get Clobbers, her teammate, through the other pack. Play proceeds in two-minute sessions called jams. When a jam ends, five fresh players come on.

A history of rule changes has altered the game play to its current form, an evolution apparent to veteran players like Clobbers. Since the formation of the skater-led Women’s Flat Track Derby Association in 2004, speed of play, training strategy, and penalty rules have been altered, shaping the current game dynamics. The number of skaters has also skyrocketed. WFTDA currently lists 422 domestic and international leagues, 339 of which have teams that meet WFTDA requirements to compete for rankings. In March, the Rollergirls jumped from 123 to 107 in the WFTDA rankings.

Renee McHugh, a tall referee with a shock of purple-blue hair that matches her name, Elektra Q Tion, joined the team nine years ago. Like Clobbers, she saw changes come and go in WFTDA and in her own team. Though she continues to be involved with the Rollergirls, the forty-eight-year-old quit skating two years ago. The team is different—younger, less intense—and she no longer feels she belongs the way she used to.

In the game against Greensboro, the leadership, drive, and experience of skaters like Clobbers shapes the play, but the explosive energy of younger players learning to be a team shines through. After the whistle, Greensboro initially leads the charge. Their jammer breaks free of the Rollergirls for the first, second, and third jams. But in the fourth jam, Clobbers, keeping her body low and using her shoulders to drive through the pack, blasts past the Greensboro players and picks up three points.

She sets the tone for the rest of the game. Mayhem West, a tall, blonde jammer with a strong build and short shorts who joined the team in 2017, becomes the crowd favorite by racking up points, scoring up to fourteen in every jam she skates in.

The blockers thrust hips and butts into oncoming jammers, their skates honking as they brake in Greensboro’s path. At times, it looks like a mess of bodies and confusion, inevitable when a game starts in a ten-foot space. But the beauty of derby comes through in the moments of clarity when a jammer emerges from the crush, tucks her body, and sets off, skates gliding over the smooth floor, the crowd breathing with her until she crashes back into the smash of bodies.

These relatively tranquil moments are a quick respite between the excitement of the rest of the game, as hard hits and take-outs keep the fans gasping and cheering. In the second bout, Barner hip-checks a fellow jammer as they speed around the track and sends her sliding into the "suicide seating." It doesn’t bother the fans—in fact, getting close to the players is one of the reasons they come to bouts.

This Saturday, April 14, the Rollergirls return to Dorton Arena, their home track from 2006 to 2016. The Bootleggers will take on the Ring City Rollergirls from Kinston, North Carolina, at seven, after the All Stars play the Rouge Rollergirls of Fayetteville at five. Announcer Rippi Longstocking will commentate during the game. The forty-six-year-old English professor says she got involved with derby because of the incredible power, intelligence, and determination of the players.