Surfing is for everybody

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In mid-September, I did something I hadn’t done in a while. I went surfing. With other people. Who I didn’t know.

The occasion was my first in-person introduction to Gnome Surf, an organization that gets kids of all abilities – and their families – out in the water and riding waves with adaptive surf therapy.

After hardly getting to the beach all summer, I signed up for a Sunday morning women’s surf and wellness session – some yoga, some surfing, “come as you are.” I figured that at least I’d get a wave or two to tide me over till next season. What I got was a lot more.

Gnome Surf began with founder Chris Antao and his surfboard. Only a handful of years later, it’s a certified 503(c) nonprofit with around 70 trained instructors. In Chris’s words, Gnome Surf is about more than surfing; it’s about creating “a culture shift towards inclusion, acceptance, love and kindness for all kids, all athletes and their families.” What that looks like is kids with autism, Down syndrome, anxiety, ADHD, physical disabilities and limb differences riding waves with whatever level of accommodations they need – from therapeutic coaching to instructors riding tandem on the surfboard and offering physical support. The vibes? Unmatched. The smiles? Huge.

A week after that Sunday session, I cheered on my 9-year-old and more than 100 other kids at Gnome’s Little Legends Wave Fest, an all-day “competition” for kids of all ages and abilities. There was music pumping, a merch table, a sensory tent and an entire university swim team helping out with games and crafts. With surfers in three different “heats,” and all levels of instructor support, it’s a day meant to celebrate kids and their families, together.

I started surfing when I was 14, when my dad drove me 45 minutes every weekend to Virginia Beach. No one I knew surfed, so I learned by just getting out there. It took me most of that first summer to catch and ride a wave on my secondhand shortboard, but I loved everything about it: the ritual of the morning, the smell of surf wax, the way my arms felt like Jell-O the rest of the day. And while over the years I had friends who would join me – then my husband, and now my kids — it was mostly a solo project.

Gnome Surf ends its summer season with a paddle out for mental health. (A “paddle out” is a tradition in surf culture, a way to bring people together, often to honor someone who’s passed away.)  Managing a mental health challenge, just like managing any kind of disability, can be incredibly isolating, and it’s a day meant to shine a light on how it’s okay to show your feelings, to share your struggles and to rely on others when you need it.

I took my family along to that event, too — not quite knowing what to expect. Surfboards lined the shore and bouquets of flowers donated by a local florist lay waiting in the sand. Staff and instructors in their wetsuits and signature Gnome hats gathered in a circle with kids and families to express gratitude, share a moment of silence, honor lost loved ones and spread flower petals.

Standing there on the beach in my wetsuit, I listened. I watched my kids listen, too.

Then, we took our boards into the water and paddled out past the breaking waves, formed a circle and joined hands. We said a Hawaiian prayer, threw flowers into the center and splashed. We paddled back in and the instructors took the kids out for some fun. It was a beautiful example of how hardship and joy can coexist, how life is many things.

I thought about that day while reading Thuy Phan’s essay on – stay with me here – “KPop Demon Hunters,” which has played on repeat in my house since the summer. I know Thuy to be a beautiful writer and a fan of pop music, but she hadn’t seen the movie until I asked if she’d be interested in writing about it. What she found in watching was a recognition she didn’t expect, about anxiety, mental health and shame, and how, when we show up as our full selves, “demons” and all, that’s where the magic is.

The day after the paddle out weekend, a water pipe burst at my son’s elementary school and school was cancelled, so I threw a surfboard in the car, and he and I spent two hours in the water together, sun shining, on a beautiful day in early October. It was just the two of us, but this time, it felt like we were also part of something bigger.