7 Reasons Why Black Women Shouldn't Try Outdoor Adventure Sports

Learning something new—especially high risk adventure sports, is difficult, period. Well, try learning an adventure sport as the only Black woman or trans non-binary femme in a mostly white male community. It’s extra challenging to dodge racial and gender stereotypes while you’re also learning how to trad climb, traverse glaciers or render first aid in the backcountry. These are high risk activities that require your full attention. The problem is racism, microaggressions, queerphobia and institutional racism are all distractions. 

We so often focus on reasons why Black people should try adventure sports. Here are a few reasons why you shouldn’t, or why you should at least be careful about who you try them with.

1. It can be lonely

Contrary to popular belief, most of your time in an adventure sport is spent sitting around socializing—whether you’re at the crag, climbing gym, campfire, alpine lake or at the drop-zone on a weather hold. It’s common for white people to make friends or find partners within their outdoor community. Despite your best efforts, making friends can be difficult in an outdoor space where no one else looks like you. You’ve probably noticed that while high-risk adventure sports act as an intimacy accelerator leading to close bonds and lifelong friendships, this doesn’t seem to apply to you. People aren’t outright ignoring you, they just don’t invite you to social events or their eyes slide past you in search of a whiter conversation partner. They stumble over your pronouns or “ethnic” name once and then stop making eye contact. When you invite them to a training session or out for coffee, they find reasons not to attend. They appreciate your company within the context of a specific outdoor activity, but would never consider you as a friend or potential partner. There’s a racial hierarchy when it comes to dating and social interactions and you are at the bottom. And yet, outside of work—another white-dominated space, these are the people you've chosen to spend the majority of your time with. It’s starting to feel lonely.

2. They don’t respect your leadership or subject-matter-expertise

It doesn’t matter how many years you’ve spent paddling class IV rapids, noseriding your longboard or climbing V12 boulders, white people continue to treat you as if you’re brand new. In their eyes, you will always be a newcomer or first-timer because you don’t look the part. So they assume you have zero knowledge of the sport. They ignore you in social interactions and only talk to your white male friends. Or they assume your white partner is more knowledgeable than you (hint: he isn’t!). Strangers ask you if you’re lost or they offer unsolicited advice. Every time you relocate, you’re required to take introductory courses by the local white-run organization, even though the same isn’t true for your white male friends who have less experience than you do! Every time you walk into a drop-zone, a white person assumes you’re a first-time tandem skydiver even though you’ve been jumping for over a decade—even though you’re wearing skydiving attire or carrying your gear bag and helmet bag. Time after time white people ignore the evidence right in front of them and default to their racial biases. They don’t see you and they sure as hell won’t acknowledge your skill level or years of experience.

When the backpacking trip you spent months planning arrives, a white man with zero knowledge of the outdoors does his best to publicly undermine your leadership and convince the other hikers that you don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve prepared for everything—weather, navigation, food, shelter, mileage—except for this. Your white mentors are oblivious to the fact that racism and misogyny exist. They counseled you on everything except misogynoir.

Even though you are experienced, certified and competent, the white people in your community don’t agree. Consciously or subconsciously, they don’t respect Black women and they don’t believe Black nonbinary folx can be leaders or subject matter experts. They do believe that their whiteness trumps your knowledge, training and years of experience, and, because they wield more social capital—or whiteness, than you do, you’ll be attacked if you speak up.

3. Your so-called friends don’t speak up against racism, misogyny or queerphobia

They may bring the comment to your attention later on—which is somehow worse, but they don’t speak up in the moment. They also like to bring up George Floyd’s murder at random while explaining how people on “both sides” are being irrational. Or they defend their family members’ racist actions by saying “they’re basically good people” or “that’s not what they really meant.” You’re confused because you did not initiate this conversation. Two minutes ago you were talking about tacos and Love After Lockup. You aren’t interested in hearing about a casual acquaintance’s racist relatives, or the fact that they think white supremacists aren’t really racist. You can’t unlearn this new piece of information and now you’re thinking about it while Mr. “Both-Sides-Are-Irrational” is belaying you on a 60 ft cliff. You no longer feel safe. It would have been better not to know in the first place that the person who holds your life in his hands doesn’t believe that Black Lives Matter.

4. They are more interested in policing your response to racism than policing actual racism

You also self-police, but only because outdoor communities expect Black people to be quiet, and grateful, or alternatively, sassy, AAVE-speaking side characters who tell them 'it’s okay to use the n word as long as it’s not the hard “r”. You know the drill. You didn’t grow up speaking AAVE, so you just stick to taking up as little space as possible. Plus, you really are grateful to be the only Black woman in the group. You feel a lot safer hiking in rural areas with a bunch of white people than by yourself. And this is the same group that introduced you to backpacking so you don’t want to mess things up.

You try not to become visibly upset when white people around you say or do racist and sexist things. After all, if you do bring it up, you’re expected to laugh it off or pretend that it doesn’t matter. You’re not allowed to be angry or sad. You’re not allowed to be frustrated. You’re not allowed to cry and you certainly shouldn’t accuse anyone of saying or doing racist things because that would make you the aggressor.

Don’t even bother reporting the incident because the white-owned climbing gym, drop-zone or hiking meet up will view you as the problem—even if they thank you for letting them know and even if they promise to address it later—the key word being later, because later will never come. 

5. Your sport isn’t affordable

Your outdoor community is all about conspicuous consumption and building a gear closet full of the most expensive, most lightweight items you can’t afford or simply choose not to spend your money on—a good reason to stay away. 

A single trad rack costs up to $1,000

A new mountain bike costs anywhere from $1,000 - $5,000

A skydiving rig costs between $7,000 - $9,000

A beginner-friendly kayak costs around $350

New hiking boots cost between $150-$250

Why go outside when you can fill your apartment with plants, meditate, journal and give yourself a well-deserved break from racist people. Except you still have internalized racism to unpack and you do that best in sunlight and fresh air. 

6. When you try to speak up, Black men and non Black People of Color talk over you

On the rare occasion that you feel compelled to speak up about a racist or misogynist comment, Black men in the group speak over you. White people ask them if it’s okay to make racist and misogynistic jokes, and when they say yes, it’s as if you don’t exist. One Black man’s “oh, it doesn’t bother me” can completely erase your voice and gaslight the hurt and pain you’re experiencing. It’s extra ridiculous that, although the nasty comment in question was directed at Black women or Black queers, the white people in your community look to cisgender heterosexual Black men for approval.

When the racially offensive comment is made by a white woman, it’s also bizarre to see how many cishet Black men will come to her defense, instead of correcting her. If she cries, don’t even bother going back, your fate is sealed. 

It’s not always Black men who will gaslight and invalidate your response to racism. Sometimes it’s non Black People of Color who will speak over you or Black women with light skin privilege, texturism privilege, thin privilege or pretty privilege.

But if you’re really honest, sometimes it’s your inner voice that tells you to just stay silent, because it’s easier that way. 

7. Your all-white friend group feels safe, but it’s not

You’re used to shrinking yourself, taking up less space, self policing and attempting to use white people as a shield against racism. You’ve starved yourself of the company of other Black women for far too long. After years of watching while white people regard themselves and people who look like them as fully formed human beings while treating everyone else like a racial stereotype, you are emotionally exhausted. It doesn’t mean you should abandon the outdoors but it may be time to prioritize building relationships with other Black women and non-binary folx. If you’ve always been the only Black woman or trans non-binary femme in a group of white friends or if you’ve never really had friends who look like you, this may seem super intimidating at first. It’s also brave.

After all, western society tells Black femmes, in so many ways—big and small, that we are less desirable, less marketable, less intelligent, less hireable. It tells us that we are loud, angry, aggressive, ugly, criminal, and “ghetto”. If you are in your 20s or 30s or older, you’ve possibly spent the majority of your life internalizing that message. It’s shaped your self-worth, your dating “preferences”, your mostly white friend groups and, perhaps, it’s made you reluctant to befriend other Black women.

Well, there’s no time like the present to start unpacking the racism you internalized as a child. 

We belong outside and the truth is we can enjoy the outdoors without subjecting ourselves to white run organizations that perpetuate racism, misogyny and queerphobia. We can be outside and participate in outdoor adventure sports without limiting ourselves to all white friend groups that refuse to deconstruct their own privilege and implicit bias. We can hike, climb, paddle or skydive with other Black women and non-binary folx.

It starts with realizing that we deserve safe, culturally affirming, queer friendly outdoor spaces and that we can help create them. It doesn’t matter if your white friends introduced you to the outdoors. You don’t owe them your mental and emotional health. It’s okay to find other outdoorsy Black women and trans non-binary femmes. If your white friends are really advocating for you, they’ll understand.  

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*Why did we include trans non-binary femmes in this article? It’s because gender is a spectrum and femininity isn’t owned by or exclusive to cishet Black women. Also, there are many nonbinary folx who also identify as Black women for various reasons. It’s helpful to remember that race is a social construct and Black womanhood is both a social and political identity.