Inside Kansas City’s fast, fierce and fearless roller derby league, where community, confidence and chaos collide

Last winter, I attended my first-ever roller derby bout at KCK’s Memorial Hall. With a cold domestic beer in hand and the raucous crowd as background music, I watched in awe as the Kansas City Roller Warriors pushed, shoved and skated their way to a nearly 200-point lead against Northwest Arkansas’ Natural State. Did I understand all the ins and outs of the game? Definitely not. Was I hooked? Absolutely. 

If you know anything about roller derby, you’re familiar with the sport’s hardcore, injury-prone reputation. And that falling down is inevitable.

“We had a rash of broken ankles there for a while—that was scary,” says skater CJ Semler, also known as Sailor Doom on the track. The Kansas City Roller Warrior doubles as the volunteer-run league’s marketing and communications officer. “We’re not trying to injure anyone—that’s why we have so many rules. But it does happen. It’s really a luck of the draw thing.” 

There’s something poetic about the falling, or rather, the resilience—tumbling down, time after time, and getting right back up.

Roughly 100 members strong, Kansas City Roller Warriors is made up of three home teams inspired by KC neighborhoods: the 18th & Vines, the Strawberry Hellions and the Midtown Misfits. From these squads, the crème de la crème join forces to form two traveling teams: the All-Stars and Plan B. A member of the Women’s Flat Track Derby Association, the All-Stars currently rank 14 out of 85 in the South region, which covers 15 states from Nebraska down to Texas and east to Florida. In 2024, the team claimed first place at the Show-Me Skate Tournament.

This year marks the league’s 21st season.

A Midwestern invention, roller derby’s Depression-era origins trace back to Chicago. In the hopes of packing an arena, sports promoter Leo Seltzer developed a full-contact sport inspired by endurance roller skate racing—a hot spectator event throughout the late 19th century. By the ’50s, the game’s popularity soared with televised matches. But as decades passed, the spectacle began to overshadow the sport with theatrical, staged rivalries and exaggerated hits. Interest waned in the ’80s.

Luckily, the 21st century brought a roller derby grassroots revival. Today, recreational leagues around the country, like the Kansas City Roller Warriors, thrive on gumption and grit. Theatrics endure, in large part thanks to the rowdy and witty monikers that players adopt, but athleticism triumphs. This season, the local group will host seven home events at Memorial Hall, running from November 1 to May 2. A Saturday night doubleheader begins with either a traveling team, junior division or adult rookie bout and is followed by a showdown between two home teams. That’s the main draw.

“It’s such a unique sport,” says Kelly Walden, also known as Frostbite. “It combines a lot of different things—obviously physicality, but strategy and teamwork. We don’t get as many opportunities to do that as adults.”

For those new to the sport, each bout consists of two 30-minute halves broken into “jams” that last two minutes each. Five skaters from each team take the track: four blockers and one jammer. Jammers, the primary point-scorers, wear stars on their helmet. The jammer’s objective? To lap around members of the opposing team. Each blocker passed adds a point to the scoreboard.

Playing defense and offense concurrently, blockers form walls to keep the opposing jammer from passing while also helping their own jammer break free of the pack—by any and all means necessary. Legal play includes maneuvers like hip checks and shoulder bumps. Pretty much anything above the knees and below the neck is fair game so long as contact isn’t initiated from behind. Striking with arms, hands, heads or elbows is also prohibited.

Among the blockers, one skater wears a striped helmet cover: the pivot. If the jammer gives their star helmet cover to the pivot, this position can become a point-scorer mid-jam in a maneuver called a “star pass.” But Semler says making a clean handoff isn’t easy in the chaos of the pack. The switch is typically reserved for when the jammer is stuck and in need of a reset—or outright exhausted. “It’s most common when the jammer is totally gassed and can’t go on anymore,” Semler says.

“What really draws a lot of people to the sport—players and watchers alike—is that there aren’t a lot of women’s and non-binary sports that allow the kind of violence we get to have,” Semler says. “That’s fun for a lot of people and a good outlet.”

Roller derby provides just that: a safe place (emotionally speaking) to channel frustration, test limits and blow off some steam.

According to An Sasala, also known as BiAnic, many skaters are drawn to the sport when life gets a little hard. That was Sasala’s experience, too. “I was like, ‘Hitting people sounds really fun,’” Sasala says. “I was in grad school and it was really lonely.” Now, BiAnic is a referee for the league’s competitive teams and head coach of the junior division.

Beyond releasing some aggression, players join for the exercise, socialization and, for many, an adolescent fascination long left on the shelf. 

“Growing up, I loved the movie Whip It—so much,” says Becca Mitchell, also known as the 18th and Vine’s Baby Jett. “I hadn’t really skated except for some parties when I was a kid. There was one night last year I was watching Whip It for like the 80th time, and I thought, ‘I want to do that.’”

“I always thought roller derby was really badass,” says the Midtown Misfits’ Hilary Wilson, also known as Hex. “I was like, ‘I’m tough enough for that—I can do it.’ And so I did it.” A remote worker and mother of five, the skater also craved fellowship. “I’m very isolated. I kind of forgot how to talk to adults in real life, and I wanted to get back out there and play games with my friends. That’s exactly what it’s done for me.”

And while bouts may appear heated on the rink, skaters say that aggression dissipates with the final whistle blow. That strong sense of camaraderie and community is what many players value most about the league. 

“I love everyone’s positivity,” says the Strawberry Hellions’ co-captain Sarah Brummitt, also known as Cecilia Pain. “Everybody is willing to help out everyone else. We’re all trying to improve our skills.”

Season Schedule

All bouts take place at Memorial Hall (600 N. Seventh St. Trafficway, KCK).

First whistle is at 6 pm. Tickets are $20 for adults and $15 for children ages 6 to 17; children 5 and under get in free. For more information, visit kcrollerwarriors.org.

• November 1

• December 6

• January 10

• February 7

• March 7

• March 28

• May 2

“I didn’t know anything,” says Kim Vaughter, also known as Kimbo Slicerrr. “I hadn’t skated, not once. I just bought skates and showed up. I had always wanted to play, but I was never in a town that was big enough for a league. Then I moved to KC from Wisconsin. It was the perfect place, perfect time.”

While some Kansas City Roller Warriors grew up hitting the rink, there are plenty of league members—like Vaughter—who sign up with little to no experience on skates. With two 90-minute sessions a week, the organization’s twelve-week Warriors in Training program is catered to these beginners. “They teach you, from day one, how to fall, how to be safe, how to flourish,” Vaughter says.

Four years later, Vaughter has done just that. In addition to being a co-captain for the Midtown Misfits, she made the cut for the traveling team.

The program’s most recent graduating class included 25 players—the largest group since the pandemic. Upon completion, members can officially join a competitive team. Next month’s match on December 6 kicks off with a rookie bout, where recent alums will show off their new skills. 

Accepting skaters as young as age six, the league also boasts an ever-growing junior division, currently 55 members strong. Divided into three experience levels, the program teaches everything from the basics of starting and stopping to light contact drills and, eventually, full competitive play. “Just like the adult program, we start from the ground up,” says skater Carolann Chalmers, also known as Peeper Reaper. “One of the main things we teach is how to fall well—because you’re going to fall.” 

Junior division head coach Sasala recalled teaching a group of young skaters how to skate downhill. At first they were terrified, but by the end of practice, they were ecstatic, fearlessly rolling down the incline.

“I love getting to help provide a safe environment for kids to do something really difficult, not only as a sport, but an environment where they can work through their emotions and learn to do hard things—hard physical things, hard emotional things,” Sasala says.

Rink Rebels and the names they roll by

Known for its rough-and-tumble play, roller derby culture is equally well-known for its clever alter egos. Oftentimes, players are so enmeshed with these personas that they never learn their teammates’ real names.

“There are players I’ve been skating with since I joined the league that I—to this day—could not tell you what their given name is,” says Blythe Guyer (aka Biohazard), a co-captain for the Strawberry Hellions. “It’s just not how we interact with each other.”

Here’s how the three Kansas City Roller Warriors appearing
on this issue’s cover chose their derby names.

1. biohazard

Blythe Guyer hasn’t always gone by the derby name Biohazard. “I actually skated my first year as Martha Mayhem,” says the Strawberry Hellions co-captain. But that persona never felt quite right, so she kept searching.

“It happened organically,” she says. “I was at dinner with my family discussing potential names and funny things and Biohazard popped up. It was a lightbulb moment. I’m in the veterinarian medicine field, so it felt like I was paying tribute to that piece of my life.”

2. hellvetica

A product of the league’s junior division, Lauren Murphy has also revised her name since her middle school beginnings. “My mom actually helped start the junior division and helped coach,” she says. “My derby name when I was a kid was Smurphette, because of my last name, but when I came to the adult league, I decided maybe I needed something more mature.”

A co-captain for the 18th and Vines, the skater is a graphic designer by trade, hence this typeface-derived play on words.

3. kimbo slicerrr

Kim Vaughter, a co-captain for Midtown Misfits, long went by the nickname of Kimbo before ever playing the sport. When she joined the league, it felt like a given to riff on the well-established moniker. “It’s a reference to Kimbo Slice, who was a famous MMA fighter, boxer and street fighter,” Vaughter says. 

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