Despite knowing exactly zero people who skateboarded growing up, I somehow ended up marrying a skateboarder. And a couple of weeks ago I accompanied my husband to Bordeaux, France so he (we) could attend Connect, a skate-urbanism festival.

Technically, I wasn’t originally invited, but after basically making me the filmer for his next video part and dragging me to over 100 skateparks, how was he not going to bring me along to Bordeaux? The week before my birthday, nonetheless. Obviously I was coming with.

While my husband packed his trucks, wheels and his most tattered t-shirts into a backpack, I packed a carefully curated series of outfits perfect for Paris and Bordeaux. I had very little idea of what to expect outside of drinking some of the greatest wine of my life and exploring the city of love.

Turns out, I was headed into one of the most intellectually engaging and perspective-expanding conferences of my adult life. And, it was hosted by a bunch of skateboarders.

Admittedly, my previous urbanism knowledge extended about as far as bike lanes and the absolute backwardness of privately owned public spaces. Skateboarding was not really something I considered as a factor in how we use our public space, despite my husband predominantly being a street skater.

That is until Connect introduced me to “skate-urbanism.”

Skate-urbanism is the active collaboration between skaters and their governments to incorporate skating into their local environment. This effort promotes usage and socialization within cities while strengthening the social threads of the local communities. It’s hard to understand (at least for me) what that really means, until seeing it in action.

This conference was held in Bordeaux, where skateboarding went from being illegal to now having 25 (and counting) city-sanctioned spaces for skateboarding. Bordeaux used to give out ~1,000 tickets a year to skateboarders, and after years of this silly cat and mouse game, they stepped back and asked, “What’s the plan here?” Instead of continuing to waste municipal resources, they began to create spaces that skaters could use.

Skaters don’t then overrun the city. They use it – just like you and me.

Bordeaux is an example for other cities to look to when trying to integrate skateboarding into their communities. Through many years, and many voices, skaters collaborated with the municipality to open the usage of public space, little by little. What began as conditional usage evolved into a city-wide communication about skateboarding.

Signs notify the public that skaters may – and can – be skating nearby. Architecture was built with skateboarders’ input, so you don’t see much bondo or DIY construction around the city. And, there really aren’t any skatestoppers to be seen. Skateboarders are included in the conversations – just as bike and pedestrian advocates are.

It is the example of urbanism in action.

Interestingly, a lot of the conversation at Connect was surrounding safety, and sorry to all the moms out there, but they were not talking about wearing helmets. The skaters were focused on the safety of space.

What happens when public spaces in cities don’t have much foot traffic? Or when an area lacks appropriate planning to integrate it into the surrounding community? Or when a space is considered not big enough to invest in making it usable? Typically, people with undesirable behaviors move in and this space is no longer available to the rest of the public. Specifically, women and children don’t feel safe using – or even walking through – these spaces.

As it turns out, skateboarders are the first wave of making these spaces safe. What happens is, skaters show up and do their thing. Then, they keep showing up, and all of a sudden, there are new interactions and a skate community taking interest in this dead spot. A big part of skateboarding includes socializing, so when skaters make themselves at home in a sketchy space, they naturally create a space to comfortably socialize in.

I would lightly describe this as skateboarding gentrification.

At some point, the existence of skaters attracts non-skaters to come watch the action, or just feel more comfortable walking by. “Once an area feels safe for skateboarders, then others feel safe to visit and the knock-on effect is very powerful for an area that once felt scary to walk down.” – Neil Ellis from Skateboard GB in Sheffield, England.

For a community inherently based in counterculture, this is a whole new perspective. It’s not the skateboarders creating antisocial behavior. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.

Most people wouldn’t seriously consider spending hours, weeks, months, and years lobbying the government for space to pursue their activity. Especially when they’re getting over a thousand tickets a year for doing it. At that point, the message is loud and clear: “We don’t want you here!” “Go to that skatepark we built for you!” However, the skateboarder mentality doesn’t take no for an answer. They’re going to look at every possible way to get something done.

It’s this unhinged persistence that makes them perfect for lobbying the government for change.

Watching a grown man trying to do the same trick fifty times, and failing each time, would probably remind them of that Einstein quote about how insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting something different.

In reality, it’s the real life depiction of what our parents have always tried to teach us.

1. When life knocks you down, you get back up and try again.
2. If you want it bad enough, you’ll find a way to make it happen.
3. Get back in the saddle!

How many times have you actually put yourself in a situation where you’re knocked down repeatedly and continue to choose to get back up? Especially as I’ve gotten older, I’ve focused on the areas in life where I excel, ideally minimizing how often I’m knocked down.

Skateboarders get up when they’re knocked down, and getting involved in the politics of community planning will knock you down. It takes time, commitment and dedication, all words that often get brought up after working for a trick.

As the wife of a passionate hobbyist skateboarder, I’m familiar with “skate-DHD” walks. While walking together – often mid-conversation – I’ll find my husband is no longer by my side. He’s 12 steps back assessing a random handrail we passed. Slowly circling it with his hands on his hips, looking at it like he’s never seen a handrail before.

I don’t think I will ever get excited over a handrail, but I know many skaters who will. They’ll even go through the work of hosting an international conference to evangelize how to get more skateable features in their cities.

With so much care and attention on the nuance of their urban environments, the push for skate-urbanism starts to make a lot of sense.

I knew I’d probably learn something at Connect, but I did not think I’d be writing an essay recounting and pushing the ideas expressed there. They’re people out there in the world challenging themselves, being creative, and exploring their environments. And, through that creating a net benefit on society. Who doesn’t want to live that way?

To be clear, I mean philosophically. You’re not gonna catch me trying to kickflip any time soon.

WRITER’S NOTE: Thank you to Leo Valls, the man who drove skateboarding legalization in Bordeaux, the creator of this festival, and the inspiration to so, so many. Thank you to the impassioned skate nerds who persevere through the non-skater ignorance and include us in your world.

Written by: Emily Herron
Photos by: Jean-Yves Ginchereau
Header skate photo by: David Manuad
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