Rollerskating

Childhood, the argument goes, is no fun these days. Kids are allowed to participate only in PC, multicultural activities. They can't use potentially dangerous playground equpiment like see-saws. They can't sexually harass their classmates without it being labeled "sexual harassment." And so on and so forth.

One could dismiss this argument as pure right-wing bunk, except for one very real threat to a classic childhood activity, an activity that grown-ups once enjoyed too. The activity: rollerskating. The threat: no one's doing it anymore.

But what about all those people rolling around urban neighborhoods and college campuses on shoes with wheels? Aren't they rollerskating?

Well, no. They're not. They're rollerblading. Or, as they would probably say, they're in-line skating. They take these kinds of terms pretty seriously. That's "in-line" as in "kept in line" or "coloring within the lines."

And they're not really "rolling around." That would imply some kind of fun, of loss of control. What they're doing is propelling themselves determinedly forward.

Because, you see, rollerbladers are athletes. If you didn't figure this out from their breakneck speeds and grim, are-we-having-fun-yet expressions, their dichromatic spandex outfits and comical protective gear should tip you off. A weekend afternoon spent rollerblading is a virtuous thing. "We rollerbladed that fifteen-mile trail in the woods Saturday...it was mostly uphill and kind of gravelly, but what an endorphin rush!" The same afternoon spent rollerskating isn't much to brag about. "We spent about, I don't know, an hour and a half skating in circles on a perfectly smooth wooden floor. Then we ate hot pretzels and blue Sno-Cones."

Rollerblading is a fitness craze. Rollerskating is an art form. That's apparent even in the look of the equipment itself. The rollerskate shows up every so often as a motif on clothing, jewelry and housewares. With their graceful boot shapes, jaunty, clunky wheels and bell-shaped stoppers, rollerskates are simply nice to look at. Rollerblades, on the other hand, are streamlined and efficient, which means they look like oversized plastic gym shoes.

It's also clear by the things you can do on these two kinds of wheeled shoes other than just skate. On rollerblades, you can play hockey. On rollerskates, you can dance. I was at a roller rink when the "dance" sign lit up. A kid no older than eighteen, hair tied back in a ponytail, took to the floor with a partner. He looked as if his obsession could have been Dr. Who or Neal Stephenson or John Conway's Game of Life, but instead, it was elegant ballroom dancing on quad skates. I was in love before they'd made it around twice.

But, you say, rollerskaters engage in the Hokey-Pokey, which doesn't say much for their senses of style and grace. Well, it's true that rollerskaters will, when encouraged (read: forced at lighted-sign point by rink staff), do the Hokey-Pokey, a bit of phony whimsy that has no place in our society. But that's only because rollerskating has been marginalized to the point where it's considered an activity mainly to be enjoyed by very young children, whose parents naturally think that they'd like nothing better than to spastically shake various limbs "all about."

If rollerskating continues to be ignored, shunted aside and, even worse, co-opted, we're going to see more of these demeaning exercises. We need look no further than the "chicken dance," which, virtually unknown during my childhood, has become a rink staple. And increasingly lost in all the gimmickry is the central truth that going in really fast ellipses on a frictionless surface is a lot of fun. That's what it's all about.

— Julia Lipman (julia@flakmag.com)