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Brace for Impact: A Memoir
A powerful and redemptive story of how the dazzling world of roller derby helped one young woman transform her fear and self-doubt into gutsy, big-hearted, adventurous living
"A universal story of healing and triumph, made all the more beautiful, wild, and free by Gabe's fierce love for roller derby and her team, who become her family."-ABBY WAMBACH, Olympian, activist, and author of the #1 New York Times bestseller Wolfpack
Growing up queer in a conservative Midwestern town, Gabe Montesanti never felt comfortable in her own skin. A competitive swimmer, she turned to perfectionism and self-control to create a sense of safety, only to develop an eating disorder and constantly second-guess her instincts. When she enters graduate school in St. Louis, she is determined to put the baggage of her childhood behind her. With no prior experience, she joins Arch Rival, one of the top-ranked roller derby leagues in the world. Gabe instantly falls in love with the sport's roughness, intensity, and open embrace of people who are literally and figuratively scarred. She soon finds community and a sense of belonging, reveling in the tattoos, glitter, and campiness.
But when Gabe suffers a catastrophic injury, she can no longer ignore the parallels between the physicality of roller derby and the unresolved trauma of her upbringing. Rendered inactive, forced to be still, Gabe realizes she needs to heal her emotional wounds as much as her physical ones; she must confront her fear and self-diminishment in order to feel truly alive.
Told with unflinching honesty and a giant dose of wonder, Brace for Impact is a tender, inspiring memoir about the everyday heroism of pursuing a life less ordinary, and the deeply human need to be at peace with who you are.
"A universal story of healing and triumph, made all the more beautiful, wild, and free by Gabe's fierce love for roller derby and her team, who become her family."-ABBY WAMBACH, Olympian, activist, and author of the #1 New York Times bestseller Wolfpack
Growing up queer in a conservative Midwestern town, Gabe Montesanti never felt comfortable in her own skin. A competitive swimmer, she turned to perfectionism and self-control to create a sense of safety, only to develop an eating disorder and constantly second-guess her instincts. When she enters graduate school in St. Louis, she is determined to put the baggage of her childhood behind her. With no prior experience, she joins Arch Rival, one of the top-ranked roller derby leagues in the world. Gabe instantly falls in love with the sport's roughness, intensity, and open embrace of people who are literally and figuratively scarred. She soon finds community and a sense of belonging, reveling in the tattoos, glitter, and campiness.
But when Gabe suffers a catastrophic injury, she can no longer ignore the parallels between the physicality of roller derby and the unresolved trauma of her upbringing. Rendered inactive, forced to be still, Gabe realizes she needs to heal her emotional wounds as much as her physical ones; she must confront her fear and self-diminishment in order to feel truly alive.
Told with unflinching honesty and a giant dose of wonder, Brace for Impact is a tender, inspiring memoir about the everyday heroism of pursuing a life less ordinary, and the deeply human need to be at peace with who you are.
Editorial Reviews
"The way Gabe writes about her instinct to be gentle toward others yet strict, regimented, and disciplined toward herself is beautiful, bold, and utterly relatable. Brace for Impact helped me know myself better."-Cameron Esposito, bestselling author of Save Yourself
"Gabe Montesanti's story of resilience and courage is a shining example of what it looks like to chase a dream. Her willingness to confront her past, her unflinching excavation of her relationship with her body, and her persistent quest for peace are deeply inspiring."-Alexi Pappas, author of Bravey
"Brace for Impact bursts with honest, vulnerable, lifesaving storytelling. This book helped me grow and finally understand that I belong to myself."-Tara Schuster, author of Buy Yourself the F*cking Lilies
"A riveting story of redemption, adventure, and the pursuit of joy. I finished Brace for Impact believing true change is possible, within ourselves, our families, and the world around us. . . . A stunning memoir."-Christina McDowell, author of After Perfect and The Cave Dwellers
"An uplifting memoir of slow work towards self-acceptance, and of the healing and support Montesanti found in roller derby . . . Montesanti effectively mixes difficult self-reflection with lighter tales (derby recruitment, team practices, even a climactic trip to RollerCon)."-Library Journal
"This propulsive debut from Montesanti explores queer belonging, body image, and emotional healing through the exhilarating lens of roller derby. . . . Her bracing story veers from fraught to exuberantly cathartic. . . . This spirited coming-of-age account brims with joy and resilience."-Publishers Weekly
"Gabe Montesanti's story of resilience and courage is a shining example of what it looks like to chase a dream. Her willingness to confront her past, her unflinching excavation of her relationship with her body, and her persistent quest for peace are deeply inspiring."-Alexi Pappas, author of Bravey
"Brace for Impact bursts with honest, vulnerable, lifesaving storytelling. This book helped me grow and finally understand that I belong to myself."-Tara Schuster, author of Buy Yourself the F*cking Lilies
"A riveting story of redemption, adventure, and the pursuit of joy. I finished Brace for Impact believing true change is possible, within ourselves, our families, and the world around us. . . . A stunning memoir."-Christina McDowell, author of After Perfect and The Cave Dwellers
"An uplifting memoir of slow work towards self-acceptance, and of the healing and support Montesanti found in roller derby . . . Montesanti effectively mixes difficult self-reflection with lighter tales (derby recruitment, team practices, even a climactic trip to RollerCon)."-Library Journal
"This propulsive debut from Montesanti explores queer belonging, body image, and emotional healing through the exhilarating lens of roller derby. . . . Her bracing story veers from fraught to exuberantly cathartic. . . . This spirited coming-of-age account brims with joy and resilience."-Publishers Weekly
Short Excerpt Teaser
1
Recruit Night
From the outside, the St. Louis Skatium seemed just as abandoned as the surrounding buildings. The strip looked like a stage set, all peeling paint and muted colors. There was a for lease sign hanging crookedly in the window of Kleb Clothing and Shoe Company; both the neighboring storefronts were boarded up. The busch beer sign hanging from an empty bar was coated in rust and cobwebs. Beside Tucker's Bar & Grill, two old men wearing overalls and yellow gloves were rooting through a dumpster.
Kelly and I surveyed the roller rink from our old Corolla. We had never been to South City before and had no idea what to expect. The building's exterior, a flat, white façade with dull red accents, held no indication we had come to the right place. I'm not sure what I was expecting: something that looked more like the roller rinks of my childhood, perhaps. Kid-friendly graphics painted in bright colors on the walls. A tall roller skate with wings displayed on the roof. A sign would've helped me feel less intimidated-roller derby recruit night or future skaters enter here. Even home of arch rival roller derby would have put me at ease; instead, there was only hap y bir hd y julia 7, the missing letters all resting upside down at the bottom of the plastic showcase.
"Are you nervous?" Kelly asked. "Because I'm not even interested in derby and I'm nervous for you."
"Nah," I lied. Then I said, "We should probably go in." But neither of us made a move.
When I was fifteen, my dad took me and my sister, Cam, on a tour of all the places he and my mother used to frequent in the early days of their relationship. We were in Denver visiting my dad's parents; perhaps the absence of my mother, who had stayed home in Michigan, allowed us to experience a rare collective feeling of missing, even romanticizing, her presence. First, we drove past the Grease Monkey, where my parents had first met. Mom came in for an oil change and Dad was her mechanic; we don't know exactly what happened after that, but my sister and I loved to speculate about the initial attraction. Was it her dark eyes? His crooked smile? It was hard to imagine a time when they might have been passionate with each other. Although they stayed married, the sole affection we saw between them was a quick kiss in church before Communion. The only detail I know for certain about that time is that my dad couldn't drive my mom on dates because his license had been revoked for drag racing. This was a particularly juicy piece of intel: his youthful recklessness, his passion. I was proud of him, in a twisted kind of way, for getting in trouble, since it was so uncharacteristic of the quiet, pious man I knew him to be.
When we pulled up to the house they lived in when I was born, we didn't get out of the car. I wondered if I'd have an emotional connection to the house, but when I looked at it, I felt nothing at all. The roof was flat as a ballroom; it was essentially a small box on a shady corner of two unremarkable streets.
"That's it?" Cam asked. Even at ten, she was hard to impress.
Dad tapped on the steering wheel absentmindedly. I could tell he was toying with the idea of knocking on the door and asking the current occupants if we could take a look around.
"It'd be nice to show you your old room," he said. There was a pause; the car was still running.
I understood my dad's apprehension. If we knocked, we might be able to go in-but we'd also face the possibility of rejection; whoever opened the door would have all the power. My dad pushed open the glove compartment, removed a yellow cloth, and began wiping down the dashboard, which he always did when he was nervous. Maybe the thought of being inside our old home was frightening to him, I remember thinking. What if it looked completely different? What if it looked the same, and flooded him with memories of a time when our family hadn't yet done so much damage to each other?
"Are we going in or what?" Cam asked. I cringed, wishing she had let my dad linger in the possibility a bit longer. Her question seemed to snap him out of his reverie. We sat for a moment longer, then drove off. We never spoke about it again.
"Let's go," I told Kelly, and got out of the car.
The walk up to the Skatium was flanked by a black chain-link fence blocking off a neighboring bus station. In places, the chain had broken away from the poles anchoring it to the ground, and it had twisted up toward the sky. Several men in navy blue jumpsuits on the other side of the fence were smoking cigarettes and laughing.
The air was thick and wet inside the Skatium. We had to push through a cloud of pot smoke to fully enter; the stink of weed tangle...
Recruit Night
From the outside, the St. Louis Skatium seemed just as abandoned as the surrounding buildings. The strip looked like a stage set, all peeling paint and muted colors. There was a for lease sign hanging crookedly in the window of Kleb Clothing and Shoe Company; both the neighboring storefronts were boarded up. The busch beer sign hanging from an empty bar was coated in rust and cobwebs. Beside Tucker's Bar & Grill, two old men wearing overalls and yellow gloves were rooting through a dumpster.
Kelly and I surveyed the roller rink from our old Corolla. We had never been to South City before and had no idea what to expect. The building's exterior, a flat, white façade with dull red accents, held no indication we had come to the right place. I'm not sure what I was expecting: something that looked more like the roller rinks of my childhood, perhaps. Kid-friendly graphics painted in bright colors on the walls. A tall roller skate with wings displayed on the roof. A sign would've helped me feel less intimidated-roller derby recruit night or future skaters enter here. Even home of arch rival roller derby would have put me at ease; instead, there was only hap y bir hd y julia 7, the missing letters all resting upside down at the bottom of the plastic showcase.
"Are you nervous?" Kelly asked. "Because I'm not even interested in derby and I'm nervous for you."
"Nah," I lied. Then I said, "We should probably go in." But neither of us made a move.
When I was fifteen, my dad took me and my sister, Cam, on a tour of all the places he and my mother used to frequent in the early days of their relationship. We were in Denver visiting my dad's parents; perhaps the absence of my mother, who had stayed home in Michigan, allowed us to experience a rare collective feeling of missing, even romanticizing, her presence. First, we drove past the Grease Monkey, where my parents had first met. Mom came in for an oil change and Dad was her mechanic; we don't know exactly what happened after that, but my sister and I loved to speculate about the initial attraction. Was it her dark eyes? His crooked smile? It was hard to imagine a time when they might have been passionate with each other. Although they stayed married, the sole affection we saw between them was a quick kiss in church before Communion. The only detail I know for certain about that time is that my dad couldn't drive my mom on dates because his license had been revoked for drag racing. This was a particularly juicy piece of intel: his youthful recklessness, his passion. I was proud of him, in a twisted kind of way, for getting in trouble, since it was so uncharacteristic of the quiet, pious man I knew him to be.
When we pulled up to the house they lived in when I was born, we didn't get out of the car. I wondered if I'd have an emotional connection to the house, but when I looked at it, I felt nothing at all. The roof was flat as a ballroom; it was essentially a small box on a shady corner of two unremarkable streets.
"That's it?" Cam asked. Even at ten, she was hard to impress.
Dad tapped on the steering wheel absentmindedly. I could tell he was toying with the idea of knocking on the door and asking the current occupants if we could take a look around.
"It'd be nice to show you your old room," he said. There was a pause; the car was still running.
I understood my dad's apprehension. If we knocked, we might be able to go in-but we'd also face the possibility of rejection; whoever opened the door would have all the power. My dad pushed open the glove compartment, removed a yellow cloth, and began wiping down the dashboard, which he always did when he was nervous. Maybe the thought of being inside our old home was frightening to him, I remember thinking. What if it looked completely different? What if it looked the same, and flooded him with memories of a time when our family hadn't yet done so much damage to each other?
"Are we going in or what?" Cam asked. I cringed, wishing she had let my dad linger in the possibility a bit longer. Her question seemed to snap him out of his reverie. We sat for a moment longer, then drove off. We never spoke about it again.
"Let's go," I told Kelly, and got out of the car.
The walk up to the Skatium was flanked by a black chain-link fence blocking off a neighboring bus station. In places, the chain had broken away from the poles anchoring it to the ground, and it had twisted up toward the sky. Several men in navy blue jumpsuits on the other side of the fence were smoking cigarettes and laughing.
The air was thick and wet inside the Skatium. We had to push through a cloud of pot smoke to fully enter; the stink of weed tangle...
