By Monique Murphy
As the dust settles from the exhilarating chaos of Slamrock 2024, I find myself reflecting on what was undoubtedly one of the most memorable Derby events I've ever participated in. The energy, the camaraderie, and yes, even the thrill of the game with a 70-point differential as a jammer, made it a highlight of my year. However, amidst the joy, there's a shadow of sadness as I announce my withdrawal from Team NZ and, more broadly, from high-level roller derby.
My decision isn't just about personal health, though that plays a significant role. Chronic illnesses, from recurring
glandular fever to debilitating migraines, have frequently sidelined me, impacting not just my performance but my team's as well. Yet, there's another, more contentious reason that has compelled me to step back: the inclusion of biologically male athletes in women's tournaments.
This year, playing in several major tournaments in Australia, I encountered numerous athletes who, despite no longer identifying as male, retained the physical attributes of males, including male levels of testosterone. This isn't merely about identity; it's about the physical realities of sport.
This isn't a trivial difference in a full-contact sport like roller derby.
The tipping point came six weeks ago when a hit from a male skater resulted in a grade 2 AC joint sprain. The pain lingers, but more than the physical injury, it was the response to our complaint that struck me. The implication was clear: if you can't handle the physicality, don't play. But when "the physicality" involves the inherent advantages of male physiology in a women's game, the choice becomes stark.
I want to clarify that this isn't a blanket condemnation. I've had the privilege of playing alongside and against a fully transitioned trans woman, and many respectful and considerate male athletes, especially those from NZMRD, who adjust their game to ensure safety for all. However, the presence of those who don't make these adjustments poses a significant risk.
I anticipate backlash for voicing these concerns. In an era where diversity and inclusion are paramount, discussing the physical advantages of males in female sports can be seen as controversial or even transphobic. Yet, I believe many share my view, valuing safety and fairness in sports above all. This isn't about being against diversity; it's about recognizing where the line must be drawn for the integrity and safety of the sport.
The silence around this issue is deafening. Many women have quietly left the sport, fearing the label of bigotry more than the physical injuries. It's time for open dialogue. Roller derby, a sport built on community and resilience, should not be a battleground for identity politics at the expense of its athletes' safety.
As I step away from the track, I do so with a heavy heart but a clear conscience. Roller derby has been more than a sport; it's been a journey filled with incredible people and unforgettable moments. Thank you, and may the debate I leave behind foster a sport that remains true to its spirit of strength, strategy, and, above all, safety.
The Collision of Sport and Identity
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