“Kooks Stay Out” - Navigating the Discriminatory Practices of Surfing as a Woman - Guest Blog Article by Rachel Fadel

This article was picked up from Word Magazine and written by Rachel Fadel.

Josie Yon, a third-year at UCSB and avid surfer, paddles towards an incoming wave at Sands. She’s closest to the peak, so she has priority, but another guy is paddling to her right. She pops up on the wave. No way he’s gonna go––and suddenly he drops in, right in front of her. She sharply turns to avoid hitting him. The wave closes out and they both dive off. “Are you okay?” she asks, confused. “Yeah sorry, I didn’t think you were gonna go for it,” he replies and paddles away.

“I just had this realization like damn, what biases were making you believe that I wasn’t going on this wave, even though I had the right of way?” Yon said. Her story is a common one, especially for women. While surfing is often perceived as a “chill” hobby where surfers are laid-back and friendly, the sport is rife with toxic practices ranging from “dropping in on,” or stealing someone’s wave, to verbally and physically assaulting other surfers. Aggression and territorialism are widely accepted hallmarks in this sport, with “localism” permitting surfers to terrorize any new faces they see at their spot, or barring beginners with the common phrase, “Kooks stay out.” Surfing has additionally been heavily dominated by white males since it arrived in the US, making it difficult for people of other racial and gender identities to break into the sport. Yon’s experience highlights a new dimension to the issue: how are women caught in the crossfire of the aggressive social dynamics of surfing and being a minority in this sport?

Women have surfed alongside men since its invention, with ancient Polynesian and Hawaiian tales depicting it as an integral part of their culture, according to Britannica

Encyclopedia. However, this acceptance was lost with colonization and replaced with more patriarchal viewpoints in the US, making surfing as a woman a struggle. Women continue to face the gendered issues of our society in the water such as sexualization, violence, and persistent inequality––with professional female surfers only receiving equal pay as their male counterparts in 2019, according to the New York Times.

An additional exclusionary practice is the idea of “localism,” which spawned from the growing popularity of surfing in the US during the ‘50s and ‘60s. According to Surfer Today, with innovations such as the wetsuit and foam boards, surfing became more accessible, and thus surf spots began to overflow with new faces. Surfing’s mechanism relies entirely on the availability of desirable waves at a spot. With the influx of surfers, waves become more limited, and competitive tactics increase. Yon refers to this as the “scarcity mindset,” where surfers become preoccupied with withholding waves from others to ensure they have enough for themselves.

While there isn’t an ability for “localism” to form in IV due to its revolving door of college students, the competition for waves still exists. Hali’a Hibbitt, a student at CSUCI and long-time surfer from Kauai, compared priority in IV to the dynamics of her home break. “I think people [in IV] try to assume [others’] skill level more, rather than respecting the guys that have put in the most time at spots or your elders,” she said. Part of this assumption often means identifying who’s a “kook”—someone who appears unaware of the general surf culture and, therefore, is undeserving of taking desirable waves. Hibbitt names some of these key characteristics––wearing a leash, certain wetsuits, and the way someone paddles––as ways people assume others’ skill levels.

This judgment goes hand-in-hand with other implicit stereotypes about who seems like a surfer––namely, that conventional surfers are white males. What’s not expected is for this person to be a minority, whether they are a woman, BIPOC, or LGBTQ+. This bias causes minorities to be disproportionately affected by surf aggression because they don’t fit the surfer stereotype.

At a Women’s Surf film festival I attended in Ventura, a woman recounted a man paddling up to her and threatening to stab her with his fin if she didn’t leave. A professional female surfer spoke on the sexualization she experienced in the industry, and young girls talked about being cussed out by older men simply for being there. While these instances are extreme, the discrimination that women experience surfing is widespread, yet hardly talked about.

Ana Fletcher, a student at SBCC and experienced shortboarder hailing from Ensenada, Mexico, talks about growing up surfing at her local spot––“a world-class wave,” yet saturated with localism and little female representation. “Just being a girl out there, they don’t respect you. They don’t think you’re gonna go for it, and they try and intimidate you. There were so many occasions where guys would just come super close to you and paddle-battle you for a wave” she said.

Hibbitt speaks similarly about her experiences over the years surfing. “I’ve definitely been cut off a f***ton of times and I’ve learned I have to be more aggressive to hold a spot, but then sometimes you’ll get called a b**** if you’re going for it and literally standing up for yourself,” she said.

Whether it’s outright aggression or the perceived doubt from others, surfing as a woman can be intimidating, regardless of your skill level. This, on top of “localist” mentality, poses the question: how are minorities expected to break into surfing, a sport objectively dominated by white men, when the culture is designed to exclude beginners in the first place? Modern-day surf culture has improved in inclusivity from its beginnings in the US. However, it is nowhere close to allowing all people an equal opportunity to enter and enjoy this activity. Is equal pay really enough when you flip through a surf magazine and it’s nearly all men? It’s important to call attention to the issues that remain so that aggression and discrimination don’t become an accepted part of a sport that is supposed to be about play and appreciating nature.

The unconscious biases and competitive tactics of surfing have become deeply integrated into the social dynamics of surfing, making it nearly impossible to not participate in them, regardless of your identity. Fletcher explains how to earn respect at her home break, she felt pressured to match others’ aggression. She describes trying to sleep at night after getting into a fight in the water and realizing that this was not how things should be handled. “I just grew up having localism so engraved in my mind,” Fletcher said. “Now I know it doesn’t matter if you catch the best wave of the day—yeah that’s sick. But dude, if you can go out there and make a friend or have a nice conversation with someone, it’s so much more rewarding.” In a place like IV, where localism can be overridden by community and fun, we can restore these elements in surfing.

Yon believes our generation is capable of enacting this change. “I really hope for a future in surfing where everyone feels welcomed,” Yon said. “I hope for a future where there’s more inclusivity in the surfing space, and where we lean more into the joy rather than the scarcity mindset and competitiveness.”