Because I feel more comfortable learning in a group of like-minded people, I founded Dorks on Decks. We’re a skate crew of skaters aged 30 and over who use she/her or they/them pronouns. In a culture that’s often young and masculine, we wanted to create a space where you can work on your skills in a safe, fun, and serious way. Together we learn, fall, laugh — and grow. This year marks our fifth anniversary, and more and more people are finding their way to us. It’s wonderful to see how much need there is for an accessible and inclusive skate space.
“It’s wonderful to see how much need there is for an accessible and inclusive skate space.”
I’m queer (she/her), and luckily, the skatepark where I usually skate is very open-minded. They do their best to be inclusive, and because of that I feel welcome there. That wasn’t always the case. When I first started skating, I found it quite intimidating to practice outside at the skatepark. That was partly because I was still unsteady on my board, but also because of the atmosphere.
Comments like “that was gay” when a trick didn’t work out, or graffiti with the word homo… It didn’t feel like a place where I could be myself. Sometimes people would give weird looks if I, as a woman, landed a trick that a male skater couldn’t. One time I scraped my shin and wrapped it up myself, and someone said, “Hey, are you on your period or something?” Jokes like that made me feel: we see you as a woman first, and only then as a skater. But at the skatepark, I want to be seen as a skater first. Only after that as a woman, partner, mother, or queer person.
“I’m queer (she/her), and luckily, the skatepark where I usually skate is very open-minded. They do their best to be inclusive, and because of that I feel welcome there. When I first started skating, I found it quite intimidating to practice outside at the skatepark.”
Besides being a skater, I’m also a primary school teacher. I’m open there, too, about who I am. When students use words like “gay” as insults, I intervene right away. I explain why that’s hurtful and not okay. Especially in these times — when I’m worried about the future of the FLINTA* community due to political developments — it feels important to raise my voice.
My athletic goal? To keep improving myself. Not to become the best, but to stay true to my own growth and joy. To other skaters who — like me — started later in life and found their passion: I think you’re amazing. It takes courage to step into a new world.
And to young LGBTQIA+ people, I would say: find like-minded folks. Join a crew, a buddy, a platform — people who understand you, support you, and inspire you. You don’t have to do it alone.
*FLINTA: an acronym used in some European countries to represent women, lesbians, intersex, nonbinary, trans, and agender people.
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