Learning to Fall: Lessons from an Aspiring Roller Derby Girl

Hola, Fierce Friend, 

As I embark on my journey to become The Fierce Feminina, I am learning to step outside my comfort zone and try new things.  I like to call it exposure therapy. How do you get over your fears? You look at them headfirst and say, “I see you.” 

I have spent many years hiding from my true power and inner nature for fear of what others might say or think of me. That people-pleaser in me was trying to just endure life, doing what needed to get done to survive, and then moving on to the next emergency. 

With my move to Montana, I have the opportunity to try new things and once again look at my fears in the face and say, “Hi.”  

While browsing at an art show, I saw multiple vivid purple and blue posters plastered in different locations throughout the event. The poster featured fierce-looking women with helmets on roller skates. The title read 4-week Roller Derby Training Camp. My heart jumped as a little reminder that I wasn't dead yet, and I could try to be a roller derby girl. 

On the very last day of registration, I found the courage to sign up. While signing the waiver, I tried not to read the fine print or look too hard into what I was getting myself into. 

The first day of training, I was nervous. I looked around the room, and there were about 12 young women. Emphasis on the young. One of the other 40+ caught my eye to say, “What the hell are we doing here?”

But I was ready, I had my yoga pants on, my knee pads, my elbow pads, my wrist guards, and my helmet on.  As I laced up my skates, I felt confident, like I was about to show these young women my skillful moves, the ones I hadn't used since I was 10 years old in the early 90s. 

Then came the moment, I had to stand up from the arena’s asphalt floor using my body weight and my hand for leverage. The fear rushed in, but I got myself so I turned over on all fours and lifted one hand, then the other, and braced myself on my knees. Now what? 

The final push, I pushed from my right leg and got up. I was standing on roller skates but not moving. I glided one wobbly foot in front of another and strode by some other participants. Whooo! I did it! I was roller-skating, and my 10-year-old self was so proud. We still got it (I told her), so I thought. 

My personal goal for the first day of training camp was not to fall. So what was the first lesson we learned in roller derby camp… to fall. Actually, to fall and not get hurt. The very thing I was trying to keep myself from doing, I was going to spend the next 30 minutes learning to fall. 

My instructor, Mac n Cheese, began the lesson by telling the participants to make sure they had plenty of elbow room so they wouldn't hurt any of the other participants. Cheese, then said, “Now, fall on your knees.” I glared at my instructor, Cheese, and said, “You're kidding me, right?” 

Oh no, he wasn’t. He even demonstrated how to skate and slide across the asphalt floor on your knees. My body tensed as I gave my body a pep talk and let it know it was okay to fall. But internally, my body was screaming You told me not to fall. The whole class did it. We all fell successfully on our knees. Then we were told, "Do it again,” and I did. I fell again. And then again, and learned how to get back up. 

I yelled, “I did it!” with exuberance. Next, I had to learn how to fall on my butt. But not the whole butt, just one butt cheek at a time, and fall small. This was way harder than it sounded. My whole body would flail when I would try to fall on my one butt cheek. 

The goal of the fall was to fall on one cheek and “fall small” so that you wouldn't get as badly hurt, and you could compose yourself quickly to get back up again. 

I'm sure I can find inspiration anywhere, but this one felt like a no-brainer. I was learning life lessons from roller derby girls with names like Hammer, LilShananGans, and Ferral. Now they know something about building mental strength.  

We are told by our instructors (parents, teachers, society) in life not to fall, not to make a mistake. Does anyone have a parent who got angry at you for not getting that A on the test? Some of us have an inner critic that is so vicious that when the hint of failure begins to be a probability, that inner critic bashes us for even trying. 

But what if we were to experience life with the roller derby girl approach, and we actively learned how to fall small?

Fall, but don't fall so big that you can't compose yourself enough to get yourself back up.  What if we all learned how to fall? Would we praise one another for falling? Would we tell each other good for you for trying, girl? Way to “fall small!”

What if we all began to have a roller derby girl mindset and learn how to “fall small”? 

Is there something in your personal or professional life that you are afraid of taking a chance on for fear of falling? What if we decided to “fall small” today? Try one thing to “fall small”, it could be as simple as picking up your phone and shooting a quick video for your socials. 

Fall small today, and then the next day “fall small” again. Let’s make a culture of falling small so we can quickly get back up. 

If I can do it! Anyone can. 

Stay Fierce,

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