Pride Outside

LOCO Jumps @ London Pride 2011. Copyright SUE REEVE/LONDON FREE PRESS/QMI AGENCY

I'm not a gifted outdoor skater. The last time I tried, almost a half a year prior to this week, I got to the park early, fell a lot, and slunk away just as my league showed up. It was not a sign of great things to come. This weekend, we practiced our skate-dance on Friday night, the better to boogie down King street on Sunday at London's Pride Parade.

I was concerned.

On Friday, we met at a skater's house and headed to a nearby cul-de-sac. We skated behind a Jeep, bouncing, clapping and shaking our wrist guards to Ke$ha and Gwen Stefani while some lookers-on clapped and some made drunken misogynistic noises. I fell twice, once rather mildly, and once spectacularly. I landed on an oil patch on the road, ruining my shorts and merely mildly staining my shirt. Once practice was over (and we had recalled the skater who had gone over for a drink with the misogynists and co.), I actually had to grab a shower when it became obvious that I had oil scraped up my side. Not wanting to turn our hosts' pool into a BP-style environmental incident, I cleaned up and hopped in the pool. A lovely derby party ensued. We jammed in the pool.

On Sunday, I was a bit more nervous. Skating on asphalt has always felt to me like hooking up batteries to the soles of my feet. It's like getting a particularly vibratory foot message from a stranger (i.e. the road). It's just weird. Being more used to sport court, wood, or concrete, I had to get over the sheer foot-weirdness of asphalt in order to face the bigger perils of a downtown road. London Pride went up King street, starting at the Western Fairgrounds. Initially, King Street had a gorgeous surface, but cracks soon emerged. I had a few tumbles, handed out a few suckers, and then I had my real shining moment, or rather, two of them.

Once we hit started to really get downtown, we met protesters, looking dour, holding homophobic, plainly lettered signs. Frankly, they looked bored. Much happier were the faces of the anti-protesters, holding very sweet, colourful signs saying "Love is Louder" and "I'm with Stupid". Once the protesters started to bunch up, I got shouty, exhorting the crowd to cheer if they loved pride. They did. On my third and final shout, I landed on the asphalt and apparently some of my fellow derby-folk thought I did it on purpose or that I was merely overcome with emotion. I tripped on a pot-hole. But I did so with pride in my league's willing to support our community.

My second moment was more of a tuck and roll. Throughout the march, we had been showing jumps. Our ref would skate and leap over two derby girls lying in the road, as pictured above. For our last jump, another skater got me to lie down on the asphalt with me. She stopped cleanly. I did something else. When my double knee drop failed to halt me, I tumbled and posed, legs splayed, one bent behind me. Again, the kinder folks among us assumed I was mugging for the crowd. In actuality, I wrenched my thumb and neck and had serious, if faint concerns that I had just bent my knee in a way knees were not expected to bend. Still, I rolled over and kept my head down as instructed as our ref sailed over us. It was awesome.

This was LOCO's second London Pride. We had a blast, handed out candy and fliers and let London know there's a low-contact derby league friendly to all women and men, too. Though only women are allowed to play, men are welcome to volunteer and referee. Recently, the Women's Flat-Track Derby Association officially stated that all women, whether cisgender or transgender are welcome to play derby. It's too bad this decision wasn't made earlier, but it does say a lot about our sport. Derby is a feminist, progressive sport and it's at its strongest when we're true to that.

Once the parade was over, the LOCO skaters were soaked with sweat and, almost to a person, grinning. During our practice and prep, there had been some concern that we shouldn't do Pride without a large contingent, but I think we learned that Pride is damn good fun and that what you need is heart rather than numbers. You just need skates and the willingness to get back up after you trip, or get tripped, and that's really what Pride is about: getting back up and joining hands with (or jumping over) the people you love.