Fierce, independent, and out-of-control: that's how the crowds size up the Texas Rollergirls. It's a fair impression, indeed. But behind the scenes the women are a shining example of unity, friendship and determination to do their own thing for the love of it. "Their own thing" just happens to include inflicting body-checks upon each other while creating the zaniest group of charity fundraisers this side of the equator.

Texas Rollergirls is an all-female Roller Derby league in Austin. The uninitiated may react with comic bemusement, but the smirks vanish instantly as the Texas Rollergirls "Rock 'n' Roller Derby" bouts unfold. This revved-up resurrection of a relic combines intense athleticism, flamboyant theatrics, rock 'n' roll, and a level of carnal energy heretofore never reached in the rink-or anywhere for that matter.

Sexy, savvy posters dot the city, and the available tickets sell out in a week. Sunday! Sunday! Sunday! is bout time, and the crowd's appetite for spectacle is growing. More than eleven hundred people will fill the spacious skating rink, but for now a long line snakes through the parking lot as the most eager of fans vie for a spot right along the track. A buzz simmers with the Texas heat, but it's nothing compared to the energy once inside. We know what we're in for: all out, over the top, high-speed female fury. Live bands, laser lights and libations pump up the fans, as does the ladies' oft-outrageous attire. A few opt to feature more skin and ink than textiles. There are the expected catfights and group brawls. And with names like Anna Mosity, Lucille Brawl, and Pussy Velour, the question arises: is this for real?

The workload that keeps this train rolling is testament enough to its reality. The Texas Rollergirls league is a paragon for do-it-yourself adventurers. Entirely skater-owned and operated, every aspect of league activity is guided by direct vote. The four teams practice together, conduct frequent business meetings, and still fraternize afterwards. No outside production company is involved. Setup for the bouts, marketing, merchandising, concessions, booking, financing, and so forth all lie squarely on the Rollergirls' collective shoulders. The girls each average twenty hours per week maintaining the league's affairs on top of the heavy practice schedule and public matches.

Is anyone getting rich? Only the community. All profits are donated to a network of charities that also benefit from the exposure this impossible-to-hide gaggle creates. What started out as ragtag group having some laughs has grown into a close-knit, highly evolved organization of inseparable friends. "I can honestly say that I've gained sixty sisters who I can cry, fight, and make lifelong memories with," says Pussy Velour (Sherri Padilla), captain of the reigning champion Hustlers.

This extended family has won over Austin. Thirty-ish thrill seekers are a noticeable majority, but it's no feat to find a six-year old spectator or one who is seventy-six. I can spot three generations of one family rallying together here just as easily as any other Sunday-oriented activity. "Definitely," agrees Talib Jones, age thirty-one, who motions to his mother by his side. "She suggested this to me. The last time my mother suggested something I liked, I was ten (years old), and it was French fries." Jones' further commentary made it clear that the Rollergirls were even more impressive than his first-time fascination with deep-fried potatoes.

Generally, guys want to date a Rollergirl-but are too afraid to ask-and girls want to join. There's a waiting list for hopefuls, but openings are rare. To make the grade, a gal must be "athletic but with style…motivated and kind of crazy," according to Melicious (Melissa Joulwan) of the Hotrod Honeys. "I've done triathlons, running races, boxing-but roller derby combines both halves of my life: the jock and the fashionista."

Ohhhhh, the fashion. Tattoos, flesh and fishnet abound. The Hell Marys, ostensibly a collection of expelled Catholic schoolgirls, skate in red-and-black plaid skirts, classic fuel for fantasy. The Honky Tonk Heartbreakers do as their name implies in ripped denim shorts (emphasis on short) and tight gingham tops (emphasis on bare bellies). The Hustlers, glimmering in purple-and-silver spandex, are a funky group of divas straight outta the seventies, and the Hotrod Honeys, a pit crew you won't find in Indy, go all black with flashes of pink. Individual skaters spice up their attire with eccentric flashes, much to the crowd's delight.

Many of us expect these theatrics upon our first derby experience. Fast-talking announcers, in the spirit of the old carnival barker, gear us up for the main attraction. Soon enough the house lights go down. The track is lined by strings of multicolored bulbs and light beams dance through the air in a frenzied ballet between mirrored balls. The DJs cue some theme music as it's time to announce the teams. One by one the skaters are introduced with a turn around the track. The buzz was just the hair on your neck standing up…now the lightning has struck. Dagger Deb brandishes her wares, Bunny Rabid shakes her cotton-tailed derrière and Reyna Terror scowls. In the crowd we're still gawking and pointing like this is a freak-show. This is why we came right? Girls dressing up and having fun.

The actual bout is a whole 'nother story, folks. The skating is fast, very fast, and the competition is fierce, very fierce. The girls, all hugs and smiles earlier, are fixed in a competitive demeanor hell-bent on victory. As one team's "jammer" tries to skate past members of the opposite team to score points, her opponents attempt to splay her pretty little bones across the rink. The track is flat and nary ten-feet wide and a pack of blockers converge, trying to clear a lane for their jammer while making every attempt to knock the other clear into the crowd.

The speedy jammers meanwhile race each other, dodging, weaving, jumping and ducking any onslaught their opponents attempt. The balance, skill and finesse are evident, but physical force is louder. Skaters are dumped to the floor, hitting like a belly-flop from the high-dive, and popping right back up to skate back to the action. Within the pack, elbows fly and I swear I've seen a head-butt or two.

Granted, past girlfriends will attest to my baffling ineptitude to comprehend the complexities of a woman's nature. Still, I cannot be alone in my bewilderment of how quick and complete the loving-sister-inseparable-friend relationship mutates into "I'll kill you, bitch!" once a whistle blows and a time clock starts counting backwards. What happened to all the familial love? "Just like blood sisters we love to beat each other up," says a smirking Cheap Trixie (Virginia Evans, Hustlers).

You could have your back turned and know by the sound of the girls hitting the floor that this is authentic. About now the aforementioned guys think better of propositioning one of the gals after the bout. "I'm not too sure," confesses Zac Jones, a sturdy six-foot-three, eighteen-year-old high-school student. "I'm a football player and I'm still kinda scared. They're intense…it looks harder than football practice. We play on grass, they're on concrete with little pads…and it gets crazy."

Watermelon-sized bruises and ubiquitous floor burns only scratch the surface of battle scars that could make the skateboard crowd flinch. There have been dislocated shoulders, sprained necks, black eyes, busted noses, and a particularly nasty double spiral fracture of the leg. A lot of the skaters were particularly drawn to this intensity. Sparkle Plenty (Rachelle Moore, Honky Tonk Heartbreakers) thinks it's one-of-a-kind, "with not enough contact sports for girls-or sports in general. I mean, there are sports, but most of them are considered boys' sports that girls play. Derby is a girls sport…Aggressive girls are going to identify with it. It's inevitable."

Likewise, it's inevitable that people will show up to watch. Ryan Ransdell, a fitness counselor and "huge sports fan," came expecting staged shenanigans. Like many before him, he was bowled over with the competition, "they're serious about it. They're not here only for our entertainment, they're here to win…The first time I came, after the first five minutes I was completely hooked."

Maria Hohenstein is huddled with her twin sixteen-year-old daughters, Victoria and Elizabeth. "It's my dad's birthday so we brought him here for a birthday present," says Victoria. "We decided this is a fantasy fulfilled," jokes their mother. But the paternal figure has drifted toward the wall some fifteen feet behind the Hohenstein ladies. Is dad having fun? "Not as much as we are!" says the trio, laughing in unison. Is dad worried his impressionable twins might pick up a pair of skates? Brian Hohenstein contemplates the notion carefully, "I suppose if they had a good-paying job during the day this would be a great weekend activity for them."

This league is far more than a weekend activity. Repeatedly, the women speak of the Texas Rollergirls as being a defining chapter in their lives. Not every member came into the league as the strong, empowered woman now evident. Some were not so confident in areas more significant than skating skills. Flowers are not alone in their ability to blossom.

The extended family atmosphere and the overwhelming support of sisterhood are infinitely more powerful than the most jaw-jarring hit that takes place on the track. Some of the Texas Rollergirls are classic, pin-up sexy while others sport sizable brawn, and not a single one is more beautiful than the next. I've studied pyramid charts depicting the path to self-actualization in college classrooms, but no professor can draw a picture so clear as a conversation with a Texas Rollergirl. 8-Track (Michelle Bowlin, Hustlers) has watched her seven-year-old daughter grow in the company of a league of role models, "I sit here and think, 'You're gonna grow up to be a better woman because of all these women.'"

Roller Derby has proven successful in Austin and yet, rather than cashing in on the windfall, the league donates every penny of profit to charity. The upkeep is expensive and they still gave more than five thousand dollars in 2003. They are on pace to at least match that in donations for 2004. Like everything else, the beneficiaries were chosen by group decision. With so many worthy causes and a limited cash flow, they also donate their time and services to other organizations. As a league, the women have clocked nearly six hundred hours of unselfish charity work since March 2004.

Reflecting their own organization's quirky nature, the Texas Rollergirls sought out charities that provide much needed services in a unique manner; Bikers Against Child Abuse for example. BACA utilizes the legendary solidarity that biker gangs embody to provide a pillar of strength for sexually and physically abused children. Working with parents, police and child protection agencies, BACA riders-Harleys, leather, grizzly beards and all-aim to instill confidence and bravery in wounded children as they are forced to face their perpetrators in court or in their community.

Already in cahoots with a bona fide biker gang, neighbors may have worried when the Rollergirls started bringing baby goats to practices. Just what is going on when some ladies named Devil Grrl, Helen Fury and Voodoo Doll are seen coaxing young goats into a closed, warehouse-style building? Naturally, it was to fulfill a request from Angels on A Mission, a camp for at-risk young girls. The Angels program is designed to enhance a sense of self-worth and companionship for troubled youth by working collectively on a ranch, specifically (you guessed it) a goat farm. Turns out goats are skittish toward two-leggers unless they get accustomed to humans at a very early age. "A little girl that's already seen way too much rejection doesn't want to go out to a farm and be rejected by a goat, too," 8-Track (Michelle Bowlin) explains. "So our job was to make sure these goats were really, really people-friendly."

To summarize: a large group of women on roller skates routinely meet in public to throw each other to the ground while in private they coddle, hug and cootchie-coo some baby goats. Furthermore, this scene is an honorable act of charity assisting a very worthy cause. Hey, I told you right up front this was a zany story.

As with most sensational stories, cameras follow Texas Rollergirls everywhere. Both ABC-TV and CBS-TV have featured the league and independent filmmakers are laboriously working on a documentary. The Texas Rollergirls' season runs from March to October with two bouts on the fourth Sunday of each month at Playland Skate Center (near US Highway 183 and Burnet Road). The ten-dollar ticket includes local bands that play during warm-ups and at the halfway point. Bands have ranged from heavy-metal loyalists Broken Teeth to the Latin-flavored horns and percussion of Grupo Fantasma and their playful blend of cumbia, jazz and dancehall. Fret not if the music isn't to your liking; simply enjoy the kiddie big-wheel races around the track during halftime.

If you are still virgin to the derby experience, the 2004 season is entering the playoff stage so now is the time to catch these girls at work…I mean play…or…hell, I don't know…now's the time to check it out.

The September 26 semifinals pit the undefeated Honky Tonk Heartbreakers against the Hotrod Honeys and the Hustlers against the Hell Marys. The winners of each match will then square off for the grand-prize Gold Skate up for grabs at the October 24 Championship Bout, while the other two teams skate in a consolation match.

The league convenes during the off-season to divide skaters into business subcommittees (e.g., Finance & Charity, Merchandising, Training, Advertising) and vote on directors for each. Every issue is first handled within the appropriate committee, then presented to the entire league before any action is promulgated. "The Texas Rollergirls is of the skaters, by the skaters and for the skaters," cries Pussy Velour (Sherri Padilla). "You can say it's a free skater nation."

This wasn't always so, and every member is doggedly proud of adopting a democratic business model. When these women skated their first public bout in August 2002, they were skating for Bad Girl, Good Woman Productions. BGGW was headed by four self-styled She-E-Os. Displaying amazing clairvoyance, these women recognized how perfectly female roller derby and Austin fit together. But this enterprise was a brand new experience for everyone involved, and growth was incredibly fast, too fast perhaps. A few substantial kinks were yet to be worked out. Primarily, many women were concerned their ideas and motivations were not being considered by management (the unpaid skaters had no say in how the revenue was being used). Another sticking point was the matter of injury insurance. Coverage was assured, but a broken leg proved otherwise, and turned out to be the proverbial last straw.

The Texas Rollergirls was formed and Austin, proudly fond of its weirdness, became home for two roller derby leagues. Both leagues faced the daunting task of starting over; BGGW retained the money, but nearly all the skaters joined Texas Rollergirls. Suffice it to say, both outfits have rebounded quite nicely. Riding the wave of popularity, BGGW had little problem recruiting new skaters. They put their energy to purchasing a banked track (we all saw derby decades ago on Saturday mornings, so don't make me explain a banked track) and succeeded. They now skate one bout every third Sunday at the Thunderdome. Just off Decker Lane (6106-B Baldwin Drive) the Thunderdome has a capacity around 500 and tickets are usually available at the door, but buying in advance is the safe bet.

The She-E-Os of BGGW eventually moved on and bequeathed the league to their new skaters. Since renamed the Lonestar Rollergirls, they adopted a business approach similar to the Texas Rollergirls. But some differences in operational philosophies still exist. Both leagues agree that full-time, paid employees would be an absolute must to expand much further, hiring either from within, meaning some skaters would have to quit their "other career," or from outside to handle the business affairs. Still working to recoup the expense of the banked track, the Lonestar Rollergirls hope to expand their sport into a professional league, with the skaters being paid just as any professional athlete.

The Texas Rollergirls see no end in sight but are wary that major expansion could harm this project they hold dear to their hearts. Clearly out of the red, they even examined the possibilities of setting up as a nonprofit organization, but determined that juggernaut would actually hinder their charity efforts. "There is such a massive amount of knowledge and experience between all these women," 8-Track (Michelle Bowlin) confides. "The future of this league is only limited by the desires of the skaters as a whole."

Don't be deceived by the crazy, wild-woman image. The ranks of Texas Rollergirls include business owners, a multimedia instructor and a hydrologist to name a few. They even have a molecular biologist with ready access to liquid nitrogen and DNA. I'm not sure where that'll get them, but it could be very interesting, indeed. The point is this: these women are getting rich off their derby experience in ways that money cannot buy. They are perfectly happy to give to charity all the dollars their sweat and bruises create as long as they can continue skating. The Texas Rollergirls league will continue because it's a love affair. The women remain united by their success in achieving a creative outlet for their boundless energy.

Individual skaters repeatedly express unwavering love for the remarkable camaraderie among this group of women. They are humbled by the effective source of community enrichment they have become devoted to, and they are most certainly hooked by the thrill of competition. Says 8-Track (Michelle Bowlin), "pretty cool that a gal like me could get all three wrapped up in a pretty little package of fishnets and makeup."

See you at the rink.

Danté Dominick's only regret with this article is that not even once during his exhaustive research did the skaters ever yell, "Dogpile on Dante!" You may e-mail Dante at ddominick@goodlifemag.com.

Roller Derby Primer

The craze in Austin has spread to cities throughout the United States and even as far afield as the Cayman Islands. Startup organizations have solicited advice from both Austin leagues and everyone is whispering about the possibilities of intra-city match-ups. So you can catch up on you're the rules that make the bouts make sense, here's The Good Life Roller Derby Primer:

Two fourteen-minute halves are skated in two-minute (maximum) increments called "jams." The teams skate in a pack. Starting from a standstill, each team has one "pivot" at the front of the pack, three "blockers" in the middle and one "jammer" who starts from the rear. A referee blows a whistle to get the pack moving, then a double-whistle to signal that scoring can begin.

The pivot sets the pace and acts as the last line of defense. The blockers try to clear a path for their jammer while impeding the opposing jammer. The first jammer to make it to the front of the pack is the "lead jammer." Once this is established, the two jammers skate to catch back up with the pack and score a point for every member of the opposing team that they pass.

Earning lead jammer status is crucial, for this skater can call off the jam at any point. For instance, if opposing blockers send her flying into the crowd and the opposing jammer continues to zoom around the track, she can put an end to that scoring session.

Penalties are self-explanatory: tripping, holding, maiming, kicking in the head with your skate, and any other bad-girl behavior leads to one minute in the penalty box or a variety of humiliating punishments like spankings from the crowd, or being forced to dress like a girly-girl.

For more information about Austin's two Roller Derby leagues, visit the Texas Rollergirls web site at www.txrollergirls.com and the Lonestar Rollergirls web site at www.bggw.com.

-Dante Dominick