The soul of skateboarding

I've watched Chandler Burton's episode of Epicly Later'd twice now, and both times I've seen more of myself. Sit back kids, let me tell you a tale...

I'm 40 years old as I write these words, but I started skateboarding at age 14, shortly after starting grade seven at Balmoral junior high school. At that point, I was definitely athletic, and at least casually interested in honing my abilities to run fast, jump high, and maintain endurance — three things you need as a skater. I had played on baseball and soccer teams since I was a young pup, but when I saw the gnarly skater teens with awesome clothes popping tricks on the street on day one of grade seven, I knew that was the squad I wanted to join.

When Chandler talks in that Epicly Later'd episode about dissociating as a child — feeling like an alien shot into a human body with no idea where he was supposed to fit into society — I relate to that deeply. Even at an early age, I experienced things like t-ball and Boy Scouts as exercises in gendered expectations: places where older male role models with narrow views of what manhood could (and should) be, desperately trying to mould young men into their outdated image. Before I had the words for it, I knew that wasn't the kind of person I wanted to become.

Then, when I discovered skateboarding, a whole new world opened up for me — just like it did for Chandler. In Skate World, you can be a jock or a nerd, rich or poor, able or disabled, a drinker or a teetotaler, and come from literally any cultural background. As long as you dedicate yourself to riding a skateboard and supporting the scene around it, you have a community all over the world.

With years of hindsight, it's clear the Calgary skate scene had/has the same issues with sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and outright misogyny that you'll find in any place with a dominant conservative political ideology. Sadly, skateboarding itself still needs to come a long way, at least in those regards.

However, I'm proud to say there was nothing but love in the 403 skate world for incredible Black skaters like Dave Lambert, or Indigenous skaters like Kelly Agapi. Those two dudes were just as important to me personally as local stars of the scene like Justin Cahill, Jeff Raimondi, Reuben Bullock, Riley Boland, Sean MacAlister, Drew Merriman, Devin Morrison, Keegan and Luke Callahan, Calan and Kyle Lovstrom, Kristi Hiebert, and especially Rhianon Bader.

Of course, the late Jesse de Champlain will always mean the most to me, because it was him who invited me to come street skating with him in downtown Calgary when I was six months into grade seven — still a poser.

When I gripped my first deck at age 14 in 1998, those were the days before social media, and even before Millennium Park. Back then, the best spots we had were places like the Petro-Canada building or the Calgary Board of Education. But never mind where the skating happened: being welcomed into a community by a crew of likeminded freaks and weirdos felt unbelievably empowering — like I didn't have to become a bigoted bully jock to find male camaraderie, or even have to act like a stereotypical man to be accepted.

As a skater, I could be my fey, fruity, colour coordinating self at the same time as working out, and being creative in the streets. Skateboarding IS a sport, and an art form, and whatever else you want it to be. There's a reason why my skate crew back in those days was called "Good Vibes," and why I now have those words tattooed on my arm on a skateboard.

Chandler Burton's Epicly Later'd episode is awesome for a bunch of different reasons. I love how open he is about his struggles with addiction, alcoholism, and dysphoria. I love how fearless he is in his expressions of queerness, and how fierce he is in his drag presentation. But even more than any of those things, I love how gnarly Chandler gets in the streets, hucking his body over massive obstacles — whether he's dressed like a glam-rock alien, or just a hot bearded dude.

The rise of queer and trans skaters in a post-Brian Anderson and Leo Baker world fills my heart with those same kind of good vibes that I experienced as a 14-year-old skater, welcomed into the Calgary scene without any judgement. Today, it's inspiring to watch this episode of Epicly Later'd — where Chandler can list off dozens of out and proud queer skaters, and where Unity Skateboards' Jeffrey Cheung is interviewed right next to Kevin "Spanky" Long and Jerry Hsu.

In the early 2000s, while I was attending the Journalism program at Mount Royal University, I spent a summer in Etobicoke interning at SBC Skateboard Magazine. Back then, I was blessed to interview a few of my heroes — including Jerry Hsu — which makes me even happier to see him again in this video, continuing to fight the good fight. Jerry will always be on the right side of things, and that includes signing an outspoken personality in the skateboarding world like Gifted Hater to his new company, Sci-Fi Fantasy.

In his recent video, P ROD LOBOTOMY, Gifted Hater makes some difficult to argue (if painful to swallow) points about former pro skaters like Rob Dyrdek and Mikey Taylor becoming crypto business lifestyle grifters. He also lays into Paul Rodriguez's lazy, cutthroat business strategies with his company Primitive Skateboards, collaborating with every corporate, non-skate brand under the sun to create fast fashion products that will soon become unsold landfill garbage.

The true kernel at the heart of P ROD LOBOTOMY is the abject horror of Dyrdek's capitalism-poisoned lifestyle, where he has actively "self-improved" himself into a human machine built to accrue wealth, and as a result no longer enjoys eating food. I would never try to take away the good things Rob Dyrdek has done for skateboarding, but my question for anyone pursuing his path is: what's the point?

As I said above, I'm not a complete outsider to the world of skateboarding media, but I feel like I can honestly comment on things from a privileged position outside of the machine. I acknowledge that corporate sponsors like Nike, Monster, and Red Bull allow pro skaters to make wages that match the tolls on their bodies. I understand that events like Street League, the X-Games, and the Olympics welcome tons of young skaters under the tent, and that those are undoubtedly positive things at the end of the day. The more skaters of all kinds, the better!

Yet these are my burning questions: can you really feel free to be yourself if you're constantly representing (and being judged by) a massive corporation — whose owners and board members likely have deeply conservative values? Can you be a queer skater in drag — struggling with very relatable addiction issues — and still compete on the level of the Olympics? Can you remake yourself into the idealized athletic image of the status quo oppressors — robotically landing tricks to win points from judges, and the approval of your sponsors — and still have a soul?

Personally, I believe that skateboarders whose worldviews have been brainwashed by the corporate world are not on our team. That's why I proudly support skater owned companies like Sci-Fi Fantasy, Limosine, Toy Machine, or Anti-Social here in Vancouver. It's also why I'm acting like a different kind of role model for the queer and trans skaters of the future. It's OK — and in fact super awesome — to be gay. In skateboarding, you can be yourself and receive unconditional support, and that will always be a beautiful thing.