Rollergirls

Skating and Punching Their Way to Self-Esteem

By ALESSANDRA STANLEY

Published: January 2, 2006

For a while, it seemed as if Roller Derby was a lost art, like illuminated

manuscripts or clog dancing. Actually, it's more like polio: many people

assume it was eradicated in the 1970's, but it's still around and, in some

areas, quite virulent.

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Taylor Jones/A&E

Sister Mary Jane, foreground, in a scene from A&E's "Rollergirls."

Taylor Jones/A&E

Venis Envy, the focus of the premiere episode of "Rollergirls."

"Rollergirls," a documentary-style reality series about Texas Roller Derby

 that has its premiere tonight on A&E, is proof that the spectacle sport

never went away entirely; it just drew less attention. There was a reason

 interest faded, and "Rollergirls" is also proof of that.

There is something creepily fascinating - and sometimes poignant - about

the women who devote themselves to this campy, feline version of

pro wrestling. They do have, after all, tattoos, slutty costumes and stage

names like Jailbait and Gun Smoka LaLoca. It's just not enough to fill 13

episodes. One or two episodes could easily do justice to the sport's struggle

 for recognition and its players' quest for empowerment and self-esteem.

And that could be the one surprise in the series: that women who work as

 nurses and teachers are somehow most proud of themselves when they

put on roller skates, helmets and vinyl corsets and punch the daylights out

 of one another. As Adam, a gay friend of Punky Bruiser, said to a friend

as he watched her practice with her teammates, "It's so trippy that

someone  would want to do this as a hobby or whatever." Only most of

them do not view Roller Derby as a hobby. It is their vocation, and they

want to make it a professional sport. To continue article click here.