You will not be alone.
When I first moved to Ireland in 2016, I was always looking for ways to make new friends. I joined a book club, I met up with other moms at my son’s school… but nothing really clicked. That is until I saw a poster at my gym recruiting for a local roller derby team. As an American living abroad, I wanted an opportunity to meet other women—and being on roller skates seemed like the perfect way to do it.
For a two-year span of my childhood, I refused to take my skates off—hanging out with a gang of friends, speeding around the neighborhood, and terrorizing others. Then, at age 42, I laced up once again.
On the recruitment skate night, I showed up to find a bunch of women in their 40s, who, like me, seemed to be looking for something. Maybe they were also a little lost at this time in their lives. I nervously stood up, but after a few shaky moments, I regained my balance and rediscovered my former skate legs. The muscle memory kicked in and suddenly there was no stopping me (although I actually wasn’t able to fully stop). Racing around with the other women, laughing our asses off; I was my 10-year-old self again.
And that’s how I ended up on a roller derby team full of perimenopausal mothers who hadn’t put themselves first in years.
It turns out the weird women who are also drawn to a full contact sport on roller skates are exactly my type of friend. Many were from other countries, looking for community and something to call their own—all wanting to skate around, hit each other a few times, and have a pint together afterwards.
It’s easy to see why women of a certain age are drawn to roller derby: There are no sticks, no balls, and no men. It’s a sport that allows them to claim their space, channel their inner aggression, and work together as a team. In this time in our lives, there aren’t many opportunities to do any of these things.
“Because it was a female-led sport, it was the first time in my life that I was able to be aggressive and competitive and that was part of the game,” says my former teammate, Seona Hyland. “Every other sport I’ve played has been a men’s sport that had a women’s team. Growing up in Ireland in the ’80s and ’90s, you’d have to be apologetic if you hit someone. If you insisted on playing sports, you were encouraged to find one that is ladylike. I love that derby is all about getting sweaty and bashing into people.”
In roller derby, two teams face off on an oval track, each team consisting of blockers and jammers. Blockers get in the way of the jammers while the jammers try to outmaneuver them and score points. Shoulder and hip checks are allowed; the game is fast-paced and very physical.
Skaters give themselves derby names (Hyland was Hyland Fling, naturally, others included Shin Pain, Jenna Tail Ya, Donegal Snatch) that become their alter egos while on the track. I was the Manky Yankee, alluding both to the stank of my gear bag and my nationality. Similar to professional wrestlers, derby athletes also like flamboyant makeup and face paint, or any other flair that could give them an edge.
The sport is as scrappy and tough as the women that play it—women of different ages, body types, socioeconomic backgrounds, and sexualities skating together.
“It’s a fucking weird sport, a bunch of nuts,” says my former teammate, Kaori Jackson, AKA Nip in Eire. “You have to be a little crazy to do it. Our team had a bunch of moms going through a midlife crisis.”
Men get sports cars, women get sports teams.
Participating in derby was definitely one part of what I would actually call my midlife awakening—moving to Ireland being the first. I couldn’t join the team fast enough. That just shows you how desperate I was, willing to throw my body around the track for potential friends. I never broke anything, but was bruised on more than one occasion. Days after training were tough; walking my sore legs up stairs was always a painful challenge.
But roller derby taught me, and Hyland, that our bodies were a lot stronger than we thought. “It had a knock-on effect in other parts of my life,” she explains. “The first time after I played in a match and had gotten knocked around and got back up standing, I realized that should something happen when I was walking home late from the pub, I stood a fighting chance at defending myself. You can endure lots more pain than you think. The body is really amazing.”
We did drills, we raced, we scrimmaged. We skated hard. And we lost. A lot. But we always had a good time doing it. We learned how to take a fall and get back up. I learned about taking up space on the track, which I carried over into my real life: I didn’t need to make myself smaller when in a shared space anymore.
Wearing my jersey with my derby name and number on the back, war stripes drawn on my cheeks, and socks pulled high, I braided my hair with my teammates before each match. An equal measure of nerves and excitement, match days made all the training worth it. Women came from all over to take part in derby tournaments. We played teams from the Netherlands, the U.K., Northern Ireland, and Italy.
The global language of roller skating and roughing one another up brought us together, combined with the love of a good post-match party at the pub. During one at-home tournament, we suffered a resounding loss to an Italian team made up of amazing skaters. At the party after the match, we ordered pizza from a local chain and when it arrived, we got to enjoy the sight of Italians being forced to eat Irish pizza. The drunken roasting continued into the late evening—and although I knew I would be covered in bruises (and a little hungover) in the morning, I felt light in a whole new way.
Unfortunately, our team did not survive the pandemic. Due to rising insurance costs and lacking a place to train, we weren’t able to continue competing. There are still other teams in Ireland, but I fear that my knees have aged out of the sport. I’m looking for ways to be softer in my fitness, to actually not take hard hits and falls.
I’m grateful to have chosen my retirement from the sport on my own, as opposed to being rolled off the track on a gurney. I’m also thankful for the many women that I met during my time in the sport and for those who I’m still friends with today. Skating together created physical intimacy, which led to emotional intimacy. It was just what I needed at that time. We sweated together, took many hits, and cried after losses in each other’s arms.
Roller derby will always have a piece of my heart. And if you’re wondering whether I have already picked out a life-size cardboard cutout of myself that I want displayed at my funeral because everyone needs to remember me as a badass on roller skates: yes. Yes, I have.
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