Good Evening, Friends of Life.
Last Saturday I skated in my first contest. I felt very ambivalent about skating it, which is to say I felt terrified and curious. I actively avoid competition (besides a good, abusive dose of competition with MYSELF) in most realms, including my adult swim team. I never go to meets or other bro-downs in which those super-alpha swim beasts toss their shoulders into the drink to win medals. It’s too nerve-wracking and I am a simple beast who thrives in the absence of pressure, not with its embarrassment (do you get it I mean I don’t thrive under pressure. Good one!). When I stopped at the entrance to the park the lady working the contest implored me to enter, despite my being a relatively new skater (just shy of three years) and somewhat elderly (39 years old). She reminded me that the more people who entered the contest, the more important women’s skate events would appear to the city/people with money. ENOUGH SAID. I am desperate to see skating further proliferate the world of gals in sports.
I entered both the mini-bowl competition and the skull bowl competition. I knew I would not skate the skull. I hadn’t dropped into that bowl in over a year, and last time was at the end of a long skate day and I beefed in the deep end about ten times, effectively rearranging my bones and perhaps leading to this relentless fatigue. I know I can skate it, but I don’t want to reacquaint myself in front of a giant audience and the pressure of competition. Horrible.
I entered the park and saw my deeply great friends Patty and Ray. We rode the mini-bowls. I focused on the amoeba because most people wouldn’t skate that and it’s the most fun bowl to me. I didn’t think there was any way I could be great in the contest; this isn’t false humility, I just don’t have the skills or tricks. While warming up I hit a sweet frontside double axle grind. I was very excited, especially because the grinds I hit are almost always backside. Doors open in a woman’s life.
I ran into a guy I often see at the park. He is nice.
Him: You skating in the contest?
Me: Yeah, I’m gonna slaughter some 8-year-olds in the mini-bowl.
Him: You’re funny.
I love that approach of observation rather than participation in humor. It feels so wonderfully flat. Most people want to jump on-board and power-josh the night away. Not this guy. He wanted to leave me alone on my little joke island to laugh at my own farts. As with many things, I don’t relate to it at all, but I appreciate it in others.
A couple hours and tacos later, we gathered for photos in the first mini-bowl. There were a couple lines of us. A couple people made cracks about getting manicures and pedicures later. That bummed me out. I wanted to just gather and be skaters, not make fun of the fact that we were female skaters. It’s frustrating that the female-ness needs to be highlighted so vigorously. I get why that’s necessary, but I feel like by the time we’re at the contest and everyone who is going to come is there and everyone who is going to compete is there, let’s let it be what it is: a contest. The world won’t let us just be seen as skaters (yet), so when we create our own environment (this competition), let’s enjoy our power to define it as a skate contest, the end.
Then the contest began. First was the mini-bowl competition, and first up were the under-18 girls. It was a pink explosion, which was a bummer bomb for me. Hot pink shirts, hot pink helmets, hot pink grip tape, hot pink decks. WHY. You know that I carry no truck with pink in and of itself. But it barfs me out that skateboarding for little girls means aligning the sport with dolls and flowers. I know a lot of little girls (AND WOMEN) love to nest in pink everything. But when it crops up as a group, particularly a group aligned with a skate brand called Silly Girl (a dismissive label if there ever was one), I think it blows. I just can’t get excited about skating as a wholesome sport, or as something with too much structure and hand-holding. I loathe seeing parents in a skatepark who are taking up a lot of space and being entitled about their kid’s learning process. If parents are going to participate in a child’s encounter with skateboarding, I think they should learn how people use a skatepark and learn to operate cooperatively with the people already there. More ideally, I think kids should get into the park and the parents should sit on a bench outside while they learn (unless their parents also skate, in which case all these rigid rules are null and void in reverence for the great institution of Skate Families). Things should not be easy for kids or anyone all the time. Whatever happened to BUILDING CHARACTER?
So anyway. Just my opinion. I’m sure you guys are all happy and agree to it. One of the girls eschewed the pink and accented with purple. I appreciated that. Also she was an incredible skater. Naturally I don’t remember anyone’s name. Although there was a super cute 8-year-old named Bryce who was KILLING IT in the mini-bowls, festooned in pink, including a couple hot pink stripes under her eyes. She had a fabulous scowl that made it all okay. Cranky girls of the world, I salute you. I salute every non-user-friendly moment you can muster. Every time you don’t know how to look like a dumb model in a picture, every time you’re not ready with a super sweet comment and every time you decide not to take care of the world, my helmet is off to you. A little less nurturing, a little more Fuck You. The general vibe of men’s skating is super playful, irreverent, gross, corporeal, and deeply devoted to the sport. I want to see more of that in girls and women. I don’t know if it will ever happen in a sport that so greatly risks bodily harm. But I dream of the day when lady jackasses will rise.
So the girls skated and then the over-18 division started. I was first. I skated conservatively. But I DID IT. That was a miracle. I somehow created a physical and mental state that blocked out most of the pressure. What little I felt translated into not hitting my grinds like I should have. I didn’t hit any frontside and only hit one backside. I wish I had done more but still, I can’t believe I participated at all. My friend Patty hit all the bowls and threw in a backside rock and some sweet frontside grinds. I don’t remember what else because what the hell is anything called? We each took two runs, and in my second run I jumped in the middle bowl too. No tricks there, just carving around. Oh well. I found out later I placed 7th out of 10 and Patty placed 3rd. It was truly thrilling. Although one of those people in the ten was this woman who seemed like maybe she had been on a skateboard twice in life and was maybe more of a ham than a skater. Her bravado was delightful and unnerving.
After the mini-bowl competition there was a big break in which a couple bands played. One was a sort of punk band called Medusa. It seemed like a band that would be on a TV show. Then a young lady with a name sang three songs. They were very tender and emotional. It made me extremely uncomfortable. I couldn’t help but think how such a thing would never happen at a contest that wasn’t all-female. It was music suitable for an intimate setting. Outside at a skatepark truly blew my mind. I wish this person and any decent human the best. Maybe I even wish the best for the world’s shitheads because then maybe they will feel better and be less of a shithead. Am I being nurturing? Forget it.
The skull bowl competition started and I felt nervous about getting pressure to compete. Then I felt completely and hugely inspired watching everyone skate. I didn’t ride it myself, and they let me off easy enough. Blackheart was one of the judges, and he heckled and hassled like a true skater. I’m very glad I went and proud that I participated. I was the oldest person in the contest!!
I guess the coping is more like noping, and it’s the tight bowl at the top that has pool coping. But anyway. It took me a while to warm up and get the place but once I did, it was pure pleasure. The Russian boys were thrilled to be in Oregon where there are so many skateparks. They said they grew up skating street because that’s all there was, though they said slowly some parks are being built. They will have a lot of ammo with which to taunt their soft and useless children whose arms will be forever slim sticks with which to poke at the air where the hologram of their keyboard exists. Bacon skateboards is next door and the distribution house for several skate brands. There was a “Keep Skateboarding Gay” board I didn’t see but heard about later. I am hoping to have it sent to me. It is sorta lame in light of the fact that there is so much homophobia in skateboarding, and it’s hard to know with what spirit the board was made. Maybe it was made by wonderful, loving and evolved humans who want to be provocative because they see how terrible it is to have so much homophobia anywhere, much less skating. I will purpose this board with positivity and won’t that be a major victory. Maybe after that I’ll buy vitamins at a discount.
So from there we went to Weed. The shops along the highway have all taken the time to make t-shirts, lighters, and various other items which speak to the name of the town as also the name of a drug. A drug that can lead to writing amazing songs and also songs which capture immature descriptions of adult situations. Or maybe it’s not the drug it’s life. I don’t know. Who is the mother who is the daughter. I DON’T KNOW.
