On simultaneously rejecting and accepting myself

I bumped into an acquaintance I hadn’t seen in a while the other night; I asked if they had been skating a lot lately. She replied, “...no...just so busy…” or, as I call it these days, the standard adult reply. We had a great conversation that allowed me to reflect on my relationship with skating. My response was along the lines of “that’s cool; sometimes time away from the things we love is good, it helps us appreciate it more, blah blah blah.” Then I said something I’ve been feeling a lot but hadn’t shared out loud with anyone else: I’ve stopped claiming my skating of 1986-1992-ish and think of myself as starting to skate in 2017. That run of skating set the hook of lifelong love in me and I have paid at least some attention to skating all along: watch the x games? Sure! Peruse a copy of Thrasher/Transworld/etc. at the newsstand? Yep. Replace skateboarding with a severe mountain biking addiction because it was ‘like skating, but for adults’? You know it, bub.

As we were chatting, I said I was thankful to have slid away and returned. I see so many dudes who never stopped holding on so fiercely to their 1995 vision of skateboarding that they don’t see that we are in a golden age right now. I think that this response coming from a nearly 50- year old cishet white dude was surprising to my pal, who responded with a slightly surprised “really?!” and I have to admit that had I stayed in the lane I was in 1991, I may well have run the risk of becoming a gatekeeping skatebro, too. 

On Rejecting myself

I grew up in the evangelical circles of the American South. Highly steeped in conservatism, socially and politically, I saw myself drift into and out of that mindset in varying degrees. Somewhere along the way, though, I broke away from that mentality for good; this was AFTER I had stopped skating and hanging around my old red-state conservative Christian-type friends and acquaintances. I began mingling with more open and accepting circles. I acknowledge the person I was and the influences around me but am glad I left that pathway. I spent almost 30 years unlearning patterns, inspecting, and breaking down biases to become a better human or at least one I can look at in the mirror. I’m not the guy I was when I stopped skating because I thankfully kept evolving and growing and am still working on it.

On Accepting myself

When I first started skating in 2017, I held tightly to the fact that I was not a new skater, just someone who took a long break. However, I am 10 times the skater I was as a kid. I skated in small Georgia towns during the mid-to-late 80s. We had no skateparks. We had few ramps. We had 4-hour plus road trips to the nearest skatepark, the legendary Kona Skatepark in Florida, and no car. We had a college campus with a collection of planters and two-stairs and made the most of it. I could ollie and boneless off of just about anything. Thus ends my youthful skateboarding resume. In summation: I was not much of a skater.

So why was I hanging on so tightly to the former skater club membership card? I was skate-adjacent at best until my oldest daughter asked for a skateboard at Christmas. I went to the nearest online shop to get a Christmas complete for her, then decided to get myself a board too. I walked in and immediately felt the need to belong. By claiming layoff status, I could pull out my membership card and be considered one of the crew. It’s weird now that, as a 44-year-old man, I needed not to be seen as a novice. But the truth is that I was still terribly insecure, especially around the cool kids at the skate emporium.

Things started to change. My kids learned to skate with Skate Like a Girl's clinics; I saw them growing confidence and skill that I never had and experiencing a culture unlike anything I had experienced in skateboarding. I wanted that too. I was re-learning in isolation with youtube tutorials and a distant memory of TWS photo sequences; to the surprise of no one, I still sucked. But, as fortune had it, a new indoor park, Stronger Skatepark, opened in 2019. They offered lessons. Skate lessons? For adults? Yes. That was my Christmas request that year: a gift certificate for lessons at the park. 

I started lessons in late January 2020; the world immediately stopped in March, sending me back to my garage and driveway. But this time I understood foot placement, weight shifts, and committing. I gained skills, and I learned tricks. I dropped in on transition! I recognized the thrill of learning new things. I relished being a beginner. 2020 was a massive year of skate progression for me but I was still very much a beginner. 

However, I am part of a community. Through Skate Like a Girl, Stronger Skatepark, and, yes, #skatetwitter, I have had my perspectives broadened and met some of the most incredible folks that I now call my friends or, in the parlance, ‘the homies.’ I know this is a group that I likely never would have embraced had I stayed a skater from ‘93 til now because I had to leave my comfort zone to recognize (and accept) my beginner status to become the skater I am today: a skater more consumed by growing the skate community in ways that are purpose-built to bring voices, perspectives, and experiences to the forefront that haven’t been before; a skater whose passion for growing the community will perpetually surpass his skill on the board. And you know what? I’m for sure down with that.