Frank Regalado
My Stories
Body Check’d: In SLC's roller derby scene women compete with all identities
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Biography
Frank Regalado is a senior studying communications with an emphasis in journalism at the University of Utah. As a Utah native, this pandemic-era student returned to school following a decade-long hiatus, which he thought he'd never end. Now, considering it his "redemptive run," his instructors helped him discover his interests in writing and storytelling, leading him to journalism. His areas of interest include feature writing, investigative reporting, news reporting and sports. With the growing popularity of women's sports, Regalado is interested in discovering the stories of female athletes and their sports communities. When he's not working or spending time with family, he follows politics and alternative sports and entertainment, such as skateboarding, mixed martial arts and professional wrestling.
Reporter's Notebook
Roller derby has existed for some time, but I would rarely hear about it in Salt Lake City. What stuck out from my preliminary research was the sport’s tradition of openness toward all identities, and one question sprung from this: How is this persisting in the current social climate where alternative identities are under attack?
I felt nervous and unsure of this angle. I wasn’t sure how my questions would be received by sources. The last thing I wanted was to make subjects feel exploited or tokenized for something that must be so normal for them but taboo for the rest of society. Still, I thought it was worth pursuing.
When I attended my first derby bout, I was surprised by the game's physicality. It’s a full-contact sport, after all, but the theatrics of nicknames and style overshadowed my idea of what I’d see. There weren’t just women out on the track—there were men and others outside the traditional male/female spectrum. And everyone got along well.
What was apparent from interviews was that this sport attracts “outsiders.” People who don’t feel like they fit elsewhere in other sports. Even though it may feel like a niche, insular community, I kept seeing and feeling the openness of it all.
After three trips to the depot and a handful of interviews, my instructors helped me narrow my focus, which I struggled with. I was asked what was most memorable from any subject. A skater named Brikel Weeks told me that people always ask her if playing against men is scary. Her response: “I'm way more afraid of, like, half the women I play against than the men.”
So, I reinterviewed two skaters to get their thoughts on competing with other gender identities and the current social climate. While other sports are concerned with fairness or protecting women, these athletes don’t see it that way. I found that gender differences don’t matter here because everyone is taught to play safely and gauge their physical strength. Anybody on any given day can best each other on the flat track regardless of size, shape or gender.
The skaters I talked to felt that any prejudice towards their sport could be undercut as soon as people see what it’s all about. As it turned out, existing as a sport in the current climate did, in fact, have a place in their minds. There is both a feeling of unity and concern. They view their sport and venue as a safe haven because outside of their walls, they don’t know how things will look for those with alternative identities. I thought it was important to hear these voices because we typically only hear the negative ones. Skaters here want to support each other as best as possible and preserve their traditions.