Reykjavík Grapevine - 11.01.2013, Síða 28

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SKÓLAVÖRÐUSTÍG 15, 101 REYKJAVÍK AND HARPA CONCERT HALL
Kristbjörg Sigtryggsdóttir recalls the
time when she lost consciousness at
her very first bout in Montgomery, Ala-
bama. A member of the opposing team
slammed into her, knocking her onto
the hard concrete floor. Shaken but sta-
ble, she pulled herself up and attempted
to catch up to the speeding pack. That’s
when she began to feel dizzy. She skat-
ed to the side of the rink and everything
went black.
The game came to a halt as para-
medics rushed to her side, but even
then Kristbjörg wasn’t done competing
quite yet. She sat out for a break, but
was not content to watch from the side-
lines and re-entered the bout. “When
you fall–because you will fall–get back
up as fast as you can,” she warns. “As
you’re falling, you’re thinking about
how you’re going to get back up.”
ROLLER DERBY COMES
TO ICELAND
This is roller derby, a predominantly
female sport boasting thousands of
members in 172 recognised leagues
around the world. The sport, which
dates back to 1940, saw resurgence in
Austin, Texas, in 2001 and has since
spread across the United States and Eu-
rope, finally making its way to Iceland
seemingly by chance a year ago.
Kristbjörg, who lives in Montgom-
ery, Alabama, and speaks with
a Southern drawl, had a
chance run in with
another Icelander,
Guðný Jónsdót-
tir, at a roller
derby match in
Atlanta, Geor-
gia in 2011.
Both women
had been casu-
ally playing on
teams in the States.
Together, the two
women were able to round
up five interested Icelanders—Jóna
Þorsteinsdóttir, Rakel Snorradóttir,
Anita Rubberdt and Guðrún “Mobus”
Bernharðs—who organised a meet-
ing in August 2011 to gauge interest in
forming an Icelandic team. There was
a big turnout at the meeting, and after
getting protective gear and equipment
shipped over from the United States
and Europe, the ladies were ready to
play by September.
ORCHESTRATED CHAOS
From the outside, a roller derby bout
looks like pure chaos: two teams of five
women race around a track, skating un-
til a referee blows a whistle to initiate a
“jam”—a two-minute period where one
person from each team bolts ahead of
the rest of the pack, racing back around
to be the first through the army of skat-
ers.
Unlike most sports which involve a
ball and some kind of goal, roller derby
turns its players into points. “Everyone
asks, ‘where is the ball in this game!?’
It’s not like handball where you know
exactly what the goal is and where the
ball needs to go,” Anita says. “The jam-
mer is kind of like the ball.”
The team’s goal is to help their jam-
mer through the pack while preventing
the other team’s jammer from getting
by. The first jammer to get through
becomes the “lead jammer,” and each
subsequent player they pass from the
opposing team earns their team a
point. The lead jammer can call off the
jam at any time to keep her opponent
from scoring, and there can be up to 15
jams in the space of one thirty minute
half.
Although the sport is rough, there
are a number of rules to keep play-
ers from outright fighting each other.
Players are also required to wear wrist
guards, mouth guards, elbow pads,
kneepads and helmets at all times, and
a team of seven referees and 15 non-
skating officials are quick to call out
those who violate the rules.
Players can’t use their fore-
arms to push, shove or hit,
explains Jóna, one of the
founders and current
coaches. Instead, they
use their hips, shoul-
ders and bottoms to
block or hit opponents.
“Yet, it doesn’t matter
how many rules there
are,” Mobus says, “there’s
still going to be adrenaline
and chaos.”
In addition to the strength and dis-
cipline it takes to play the game, which
can last two hours, there are strong in-
fluences from DIY, feminist and punk
cultures. Teams and players adopt
intimidating monikers that are more
punk rock than ice skating princess.
Team names such as the Back Breaking
Bambis from Frankfurt, Germany, the
Crime City Rollers from Malmö, Swe-
den or the Rat City Roller Girls from Se-
attle, Washington embody the fighting
spirit of the sport.
“It’s aggressive, which is something
girls aren’t encouraged to be in contact
sports,” says Jóna, whose derby name is
Black Metal Banshee. “We’re more en-
couraged to be feminine and subtle and
nice.”
NO PLACE TO CALL HOME
As roller derby is relatively new to Ice-
land, none of the gear, including the
sport’s signature quad skates, is avail-
able locally. In fact, there isn’t much
of a skating culture in the country at
all. Jóna, Rakel and Mobus all admit
that they were completely new to skat-
ing and the sport when they joined the
team, and only one of the team’s cur-
rent coaches, Anita, had any previous
skating experience. Not only that, but
many of the team’s current members
say they never played sports prior to
roller derby.
“I’m hard-core anti-sports, actually,”
jokes Rakel, who says she became in-
terested in the sport after seeing ‘Whip
It,’ a 2009 film in which a misfit girl
from a small town in Texas joins a local
roller derby team. For her, roller derby
is different because it not only involves
strength, but also speed and grace. “It’s
aggressive, but you must know how to
control your body and your legs while
on skates,” says Rakel whose derby
name, Rushkva, is a play on the Ice-
landic word röskva, meaning agile or
quick.
With no place to call home, the team
has had a number of practise spaces,
including a parking garage and an old
go-kart track and the team has yet to
play an official bout. But with the cur-
rent core group of 8–10 girls practising
twice a week and a third weekly practice
planned after the new year, Jóna says
she hopes they will be able to start host-
ing minimum skills tests as soon as
February.
“We’ll see how many can get
through that, and then we can really
start building a team,” she says.
PRETTY IN PUNK
While the aggression of the sport may
scare some away, the Icelandic roller
derby girls agree on one thing that
makes it universally appealing: its ac-
ceptance of anyone and everyone.
“As long as you can skate and pass
minimum skills test, you’re in,” Rakel
says. In fact, Jóna, Rakel and Mobus
say players with varying body types and
sizes actually make for a stronger team
overall.
“Here there is no cookie-cutter body
shape. Look at me, I’m big and beefy,”
Mobus says. “If I’m on a team with a
bunch of skinny girls, like Rakel, who
is super agile and fast, the team would
have a completely different strategy. If
you have two people like me and three
like her, it would be a completely differ-
ent team. Every time there’s a new per-
son, there’s a new dynamic!”
“I have never felt too fat, too short,
too tall, or too anything,” Kristbjörg
adds, noting that before she joined the
Alabama derby team, she had been self-
conscious of her weight and big thighs.
“After I joined the team, I began to see
myself in a different light.”
For a sport that combines athleti-
cism, feminism and a punk, DIY atti-
tude, Kristbjörg says she sees no reason
that it shouldn’t take off in Iceland. Not
even the fear of broken bones and con-
cussions keep her from playing, and
in fact it’s part of the reason she keeps
coming back for more. “It makes me
feel like a superstar,” Kristbjörg says.
“When I put on my skates and my gear,
I feel invincible.”
- KIRSTEN O’BRIEN
28 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 1 — 2013SPORT
Rolling Around Reykjavík
Fishnets, concussions and a sheep on skates are all part of the charm
“
„
…a team of seven referees
and 15 non-skating officials
are quick to call out those who
violate the rules.
Their “mascot” is called Rolluderby. It’s the combination of “rolla,” the Icelandic word for
sheep, and “derby.” You can check him out on the internet at: http://rolluderby.tumblr.com/
page/7
Sigurbjörg María (Lexi DeLarge)
Photo caption photo caption photo caption