It’s been a while now, that female professional athletes make significantly less than their

male counter parts. In 2016 PBS NewsHour reported that US Women’s National Soccer Team,

up to 25% less, where their 2015 World Cup victory earned them a measly quarter of what the

men’s National Team earned for their performance in the 2014 World Cup where they did not

qualify for semi-finals. What sort of assumptions does this information prompt men to make?

And what are girls, gals and femmes supposed to do with this information, that their ball-busting

efforts are inherently less valuable contributions to sports and entertainment than those of their

ball-bearing counterparts? Funny thing about ball bearings is they help a skateboard roll and they

have no gender because they are inanimate and made of steel. The story of an urban skate crew

for femmes, by femmes, shows us that spaces falsely constructed as exclusively masculine can

be made safe for gender-queer people to explore competition and risk taking by acting out their

ideas that belonging in a skatepark only requires one thing: a skateboard!

 If you were walking from Western to California on Logan Blvd you would pass a disgusting

skatepark exhaling dust and dinge under I-94 West and see some male skateboarders. You probably

wouldn’t notice Lo, even though she'd be trying all the same tricks as the other skaters. But Lo is in a

male space, so she’s making herself small. As you’re leaving you notice she’s taking a break from skating

and, instead, graciously letting me interview them about being the Only Black Female Skater You’ve

Never Seen. Did you expect them to be white? Lo and I are talking, she’s describing the way she flipped

the narrative of skateparks as a masculine spaces back on its head by contributing to the development of

their skate crew, froSkate. The crew is made up of BIPOC LGBTQ Skaters in Chicago, and it’s been

written up in multiple magazines and also The Chicago Tribune.

Moms want their daughters to use their “best judgement” and avoid rowdy skateparks;

places where the energy is high and the attitudes are big. They call it being “street smart” But if

moms saw froSkate there, they would feel that their daughter was safe and supported by other
women looking out for them. froSkate represents a commitment to the knowledge that criteria of

belonging at a skatepark are contrived. They share this knowledge with other femes, actively

deconstructing the myth that female skaters have to prove themselves. They unapologetically

compete for the sake of competition, and for enjoyment, not to earn rights to a space. Black girls

are creating a space for themselves to explore competition, risk, and masculinity because they

recognize their own value and worthiness. They’re succeeding. They’re getting published,

getting tricks, getting funding, getting clout, hosting meet ups, hosting virtual workouts, shouting

each other out, and reclaiming spaces. Spaces that have been furiously co-opted by white men to

include multiple fictitious criteria associated with masculinity. Lo is Vice President of an

operation that literally transforms spaces from dangerous to safe. How did she get all the way

from beginner to ambassador? We talked about it.

“I did start [skating] because I myself had never seen another black girl skate” Lo said. “I

wanted to be the representation for that, and a good one - so I wanted to work hard and become

great so that, since I knew I would be the first black girl so many people ever saw skate, I could

represent us well.”

Lo (she/they) grew up in a middle-class home in Saint Louis, MO, but didn’t know a lot

of other Black kids. “I lived in an all-white neighborhood, so I'd get looks for stepping outside

in general, but to see me skating was just another reason to be looked at. I realized, that for

those people looking at me, it was probably their first time seeing a Black girl skateboard.

Like, me just being myself opened their minds to something they probably never even

considered could be possible. That’s kinda crazy.” That is kinda crazy.  You didn’t see Lo

when you were walking under I-94 West but if you had, you probably wouldn’t have been able

to help tracking her as she skated around, noting that its your first time seeing a Black girl skate.
Lo added “It was just another thing that made me different, but I was attracted to it because I

knew the skating community was full of outcasts!!” I asked her if her family supported her

skating. Being a female myself, I had predictions about her answer. “My brothers thought it

was cool, but my mom didn’t like it” she said. “I was always…rowdy. I was always coming in

the house dirty, with scrapes, and my mom would be like ‘what am I gunna do with this kid’, and

my sister was perfect”. She said their oldest sister was always well behaved and put together,

acting mature. Lo’s sister was well-received for acting the way a woman was supposed to act,

casting Lo as a girl in opposition. Between their social setting, their older sister, and their

competitive nature, Lo says “I felt like an outsider for most of my life.”

Within skateboarding, this feeling can be attributed to the fact that competition and risk

are not included in societal expectations of femininity. Socially and within family, women are

still subject to scorn from other women for not acting “like a lady” when they show this

competitive side, despite majoritarian attitudes of feminism amongst women. I couldn’t find any

research to back this idea, but at least I’ve experienced it, and Lo has experienced it, too.

Today, women are recognized as capable athletes but are still seen as less marketable by their

sponsors and are paid less by leagues than their male counterpart. In the 2017 Vice article titled

“Female Skateboarders Still Striving for Equal Footing with Male Peers” by Trina Calderόn it

was reported that X-Games began offering equal prize money to US male and female skaters in

2008. But even in 2017, this wasn’t by any means the standard. Professional skateboarder Poppy

Starr of Australia won $500 at the Australian Bowl Riding Competition; it was a measly 10% of

the male champion’s earnings. The article mentioned she was “stoked about it, since last year the

girls got nothing”. Why are women being deterred, not endorsed, not encouraged, from

competing?
 Skateboarding is dangerous, especially the learning part. The board is heavy and

unforgiving so the sport involves managing risk in order to progress safely. In Kevin Young’s

2008 book Tribal Play: Subcultural Journeys Through Sport this risk taking behavior- is

summarized in saying “women’s involvement in masculine risk-taking activities challenges the

constrains imposed by cultural notions of femininity” (Young, 245).

Their risk-taking behavior challenges gender roles because men claim skateboarding. In

2020 Skate Review reported that 23.9% of all skaters are female, while 16.6% of all core skaters

(skaters who hit it at least once a week) are female. Of the 45 skateboarding statistics “you need

to know” published on the site, this was the only one that mentioned females. Arguably the most

popular skateboarding magazine of all time, Thrasher has only featured three women on its

covered since it was founded in 1981. A 1996 publication by Becky Beal titled Alternative

masculinity and its effects on gender relations in the subculture of skateboarding offers insight

regarding male attitudes towards female skateboarders. Beal interviewed male skateboarders in

northeastern Colorado. She writes “I commented on the lack of female participation and asked

their opinion about why it occurred. Most males were taken back… It appeared that the dominant

ideology of "natural" differences between males and females was a fundamental assumption of

these skaters.” So, when asking why are men more supportive of male risk takers compared to

women? Beal would say that men assume women desire a conventionally feminine appearance

“in all realms of their lives. Part of a feminine appearance is frailness and purity. Most males

could not reconcile the physical risk-taking nature of skateboarding with female behavior.” 

As a queer Black skater, Lo breaks away from expectations of femineity, which is more

welcomed by certain settings than others. When Lo moved from the St. Louis suburbs to

Chicago to attend Loyola University, skating changed. “I actually felt more welcome in
Chicago than St. Louis” she writes, “but that's only because I never went to skateparks here

until meeting up with froSkate” She didn’t go to skateparks, even though they’re made for

skateboarders. Shouldn’t skateboarders in an urban environment feel welcome, feel a sense of

belonging and community at a skatepark? Moving to a new city…looking to meet new

people….she said she tried. “Sometimes I'd get such bad anxiety I could keep my balance and

would just leave, hence me always skating the streets.”

In the big city, anyone can skate in the streets, no one cares what you do in public-you

can recite an hour-long soliloquy in the streets or be visibly in need and no one will bat an eye,

But the skateparks are political spaces of elitism where dudes hang out, wear the same thing,

skate really well, get clips, get noticed, go pro, and put their city on the map. If you’re a beginner

the big city skatepark can be a violent and humiliating place. It’s not like the suburbs, where the

skatepark is “full of outcasts”. Because it’s dangerous to skateboard, and women have been

deterred from risk taking, skateparks are masculine feeling. So, they are not a safe space, despite

their being made for skateboarders. Like any masculine space, females found alone can be

dominated/taken advantage of/robbed. It seems like the fact that skateboarding can be so

dangerous, and that skateparks in the city are bigger, and the skaters are better, skateparks are a

sort of concentrated region of masculinity and hyper aggression. So, serious stuff.

Kids might call you a bitch if you mess up their line, no matter your gender but especially

if you are queer or female. That’s disrespectful. At a skatepark, you have to earn respect,

especially if you “don’t belong” in the masculine space. This means being good at skating. Even

though skateparks are not gendered and were made for skateboards, men have engendered the

space with many more contrived criteria than the one that is inherent to the space. To be

respected in the space, you can either “belong” in it based on the standards of the majority, or
else you have to prove you belong in, if it’s not immediately obvious. Beginners counter this by

pulling up in groups or “crews”, so that they might have some support and protection from a

space with criteria for existing in. A crew supports its members by assuring them that they these

criteria are constructed, by a majority, and mean nothing. Your crew reminds you of the only

inherent, real criteria possessed by a skatepark; be a person who enjoys skating. Before froSkate,

the skateparks in Chicago felt off limits to Lo because she was a Black girl.

Feeling excluded from the park and struggling with academics and mental health hurtles,

Lo was using street skating to deal with life as a new college student. “I’d like only ever leave

my apartment to go skate. It was my greatest coping mechanism” she said. “I’d just always feel

my best, happiest and most confident when I was on my board. It’s always been impossible for

me to be sad while I’m skating. I met the crew just before I dropped out of college.” Lo shared

with me that for her, dropping out of college became necessary once her mental health took a

turn for the worst. But quitting school worked for Lo. She said “I worked but spent all my free

time skating and hanging with the crew.” froSkate is known fir hosting meet ups at skateparks in

Chicago, for being that crew that makes you feel like you belong there. This is reflected over in

over in the crew’s 2019 write up in the Chicago Tribune. In the article, Mia Ingram is quoted

saying ““Support is everything, representation is real. It’s like a wow factor seeing a black

woman with a skateboard.” Iris Simone Haastrup-Sanders told the press ““I thought I was alone,

so when I found that there was an actual event to go to, I was so excited. It was so much fun

skating with people who are on the same level as you. I thought it was the best thing in the

world.”
 Lo offered me her own perspective on froSkate’s priceless contribution to her personal

life and mental health. “It genuinely brought me back to life…and suddenly gaining so many

new friends made me feel anything but alone. Especially so many new friends who looked like

me AND loved skating as much as me? Wild.” That’s just it. Women, let alone black women, are

deterred and, as a result, underrepresented from skateboarding to the point that Lo described

meeting other black femme skaters as “wild.” For Chicagoland, froSkate does the heavy lifting to

represent and give opportunity to skaters who don’t feel like they belong at the skatepark, who

feel alone in that masculine space. Lo told me of her love for froSkate “I wanted to be as

involved as possible in spreading the joy the crew brought me, hence how I stand as Vice

President now.”

Historically, skateboarding has been heavily co-opted by men, perniciously excluding women as

unable to belong in the skateboarding community because of their gender. Closing out my

interview with Lo, she gushes with gratitude about finding a community of skateboarders she

feels included in. “My life has done a complete 180 and it’s literally all because of

skateboarding. I fucking love being alive now and I fucking love everyone who I’ve met through

all of this. Even sitting here being able to express this right now is a blessing. I’ve been brought

back to who I truly am, and I’ve grown more than I ever have.” Lo’s story is a lesson about the

fulfillment, growth, joy and success that can be offered to women, especially those of color by

simply by including and representing them in things they have rights and access to but have been

discouraged from. While society has not yet adopted the inclusivity demanded by female’s

accomplishments in sports, girls like Lo learned how to create space for themselves to exist when

there isn’t one ready made for them.

Works Cited
“45 Skateboarding Facts You Need to Know.” Skatereview.com, 2020.
https://www.skatereview.com/skateboard/skateboard-stats/
Beal, B. Alternative masculinity and its effects on gender relations in the subculture of
skateboarding. Journal of Sports Behavior. Vol 19(3) p.204. 1996.
Calderόn, T. “Female Skateboarders Still Striving for Equal Footing with Male Peers”. Vice.
2017.
Fine, C. and Rocket, D., “‘Falling is easier when its with friends’: FroSkate offers skateboard
sisterhood for those underrepresented in the sport.” Chicago Tribune, 12 September 2019,
https://www.chicagotribune.com/lifestyles/ct-life-froskate-women-of-color-queer-
skateboarders-0912-20190912-lgnpmjlh7rcyjkmfbaenfutq6a-story.html.
Santhanam, Laura. Data: How does the U.S. women’s soccer team compared to the men? PBS
NewsHour, 2016.
Young, K. Tribal Play: Subcultural Journeys Through Sport. 2008.