No Fear? 49 and fearless, finally.
Written by RADLAURASKATES
Fearless… a word that is so much bigger than its face-value meaning. I grew up in the late 80s, early 90s, a time when the brand "No Fear" was popular people wore caps and t-shirts with the brand logo slapped on the front. The brand encouraged its audience to take risks, to challenge themselves, to not be held back by fear or failure. It was aimed mainly at teenage boys. Growing up in the 90s as a teenage girl who had spent her childhood wearing boys' clothing and preferring short hair, I wanted this brand to appeal to me. I wanted to embrace the No Fear moniker, but being female held me back. Oh, the irony.
On my 9th birthday, I was bought a BMX. I was desperate to have a blue and yellow Raleigh Burner the dream wasn't to be, but the BMX my parents bought me was magnificent. It was chrome and black, and it meant the world to me. It meant freedom and adventure, but more than that, it meant I was "cool like a boy." The BMX defined the acceptance I was searching for. Boys took risks, had adventures, and were bold and fearless. Nine-year-old girls just played with Barbies, Sindys, and Sylvanian Families — to me this was dull and drab, the kind of play reserved for saccharine-sweet girls in frilly pink dresses. Definitely not me.
At the age of 12, the BMX was swapped for a mountain bike and a skateboard. (Side note: I would later buy a BMX again at university, eight years later.) My Ghostbusters skateboard a toy-shop-bought, wide-width deck with plastic wheels and trucks gave me the edge, the respect of the boys at school, and the opportunity to be different in a world of early-tween trips to Boots to buy makeup.
I certainly didn't have any friends "like" me growing up. I had many friends, but the girls I met at secondary school wanted to buy makeup and fashion and get themselves boyfriends. I had to learn to embrace this a little to fit in, but I always felt like a poor substitute. I wanted to learn to skate, ride my mountain bike, and hang out with boys as equals. Don't get me wrong as I grew up through my teens, I had my fair share of boyfriends, but we would share a common interest. Meeting my boyfriend Kai (name changed to protect the innocent) at the age of 14 was the most exciting time ever. He was a skater an amazing skater with a proper skateboard, not a toy-shop skateboard. I was spellbound for two reasons. 🛹
I used to spend my time at the local youth club watching Kai and his brother Tim skate. I would watch in awe and envy, wishing it could be me on the board. The skate scene in the late 80s, early 90s was dominated by men, and here is where that word creeps in: I wanted to learn how to skate in public so badly, but the fear of pushing female boundaries wasn't yet formed in me. I was too shy, maybe too embarrassed, to step foot on a skateboard in the street to learn with my male friends or boyfriend. Maybe there was even a touch of shame that I should want to attempt a "boys'" sport. I didn't know of any other female skaters older than me who may have been pushing those boundaries.
And so, after years of watching skating from the sidelines, the need to "fit in" with the other girls took over, and I became a fully fledged teenage girl with a full face of makeup, clothes that every other teenage girl was wearing, and an identical identity to match. Conformity. Ugh.
It wasn't until I met my husband that my love of board sports came back to me, when he declared one day that he had booked us a snowboarding holiday. Snowboarding seemed to be much more accessible (twenty-something years later) to women, and as I was riding with my male friends and husband, it was acceptable, and the fear did not creep in. Suddenly I had No Fear, no fear of being seen as different, or quirky, or "wanting to be like a boy," because I was riding with the men and my husband.
I fell in love with the sport and pushed myself as hard as my male friends and husband, embracing the snowboarding scene for twenty years or more. Snowboarding pacified my desire to skateboard, until five or so years ago, when I came across an Instagram post of a woman in her late 40s skateboarding. 🛹 My curiosity and the itch to learn came back full force, but the fear came rolling back in again with all the "what if" questions.
After a good deal of research and reading into women and skating, and putting courage at the forefront of my mind, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone, ignored the negative voices both in my head and around me, and decided to stay true to my "origin story." I decided to take the next step and guess what?
I can finally buy and wear the cap and t-shirt.
