Sisu Magazine Issue 9: Mountaintop by Sisu Magazine

issue 9

Mountaintop

SISU Pronounced see’-soo. A Finnish term embodying the spirit of grit, guts, and perseverance. Sisu represents a human being’s ability to face any adventure riddled with hardship, hopelessness, and impossibility, yet they still choose to stay the course. It’s not a temporary state of courage, it’s a way of life. SISU MAGAZINE A collection of uninterrupted stories, brilliant photographs, and stunning art that evokes the indomitable human spirit that exists in all of us. An exploration into the experiences and perspectives about the outdoors, told by our contributing writers, photographers, and artists who represent a bold, insightful collective voice.

F R O N T A N D B A C K C O V E R I L L U S T R AT I O N B Y B R O O K LY N B E L L | @BADGAL_BROOKY

CONTENTS 6 SKIING WHILE FAT

by Ali Wines

8 THE PITCH An Interview with Raquel Vèlez, founder of Alpine Parrot

10 ASK JENNY

Bad Feminist by Jenny Bruso

12 GRATITUDE TO MY MOM

By Kiki Ong

14 YOU CAN’T BE WHAT YOU CAN’T SEE By Claire Smallwood 21 OUR ANCESTORS’ WILDEST DREAMS A Collection of Portraits of Femme, Non-binary, and Trans Womxn Wearing Indigenous Art Made Throughout Turtle Island

34 LAND, LANGUAGE, & POWER By Micheli Oliver and Myia Antone

LEARNING TO LEAD

4 5 FIRST ASCENTS

By Elizabeth Sahagún

An Interview with Nikki Smith

by Hannah Spendlove

4 8 POETRY IN MOTION Snow Therapy by Jabari S. Jones

BRAND ROUNDUP Beyond Land Acknowledgements by Lace Lawrence

THE SWEDES KNOW WHAT YOU NEEDS By Samantha Romanowski

BOOK REVIEW Pin Ups: A Search for Role Models in A White Man’s World by Ali Wines

PLAYLIST

MARKETPLACE

EAT, DRINK, + BE MERRY

MTNTOP: Tunes Dedicated to the Snow Curated By Kiki Ong Shop It

Patacón Pisao By Vanessa Chavarriaga

66 MOUNTAINTOP

By Hana Saydek

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follow @sisumagazine #gritandguts

Submissions If you’d like to contribute, email us at submissions@sisumagazine.com

CONTACT For general inquiries, write to

STAFF EDITOR IN CHIEF Jennifer Gurecki GUEST EDITOR Hana Saydek CREATIVE DIRECTOR Lauren Bello Okerman COPY EDITOR Lacey England ASSOCIATE EDITOR Charlotte Harris SENIOR DESIGNER Charlotte Harris

hello@sisumagazine.com

CONTRIBUTORS SPONSORS To enquire about advertising or sponsorships, get in touch at sponsor@sisumagazine.com

STOCKISTS If you’d like to stock Sisu Magazine, write to stockme@sisumagazine.com

letters to the editor Send your letters to editor@sisumagazine.com and snail mail or gifts to 3983 S. McCarran Blvd. #481 Reno, Nevada 89502

©2021 Sisu Magazine, All rights reserved. Printed on 100% recycled paper. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the editor, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Myia Antone Jenny Bruso Vanessa Chavarriaga Jabari S. Jones Lace Lawrence Micheli Oliver Kiki Ong

Samantha Romanowski Elizabeth Sahagún Hana Saydek Claire Smallwood Hannah Spendlove Raquel Vèlez Ali Wines

PHOTOGRAPHY & ART Eric Arce Brooklyn Bell Demetria Buck Dakota Casias Vanessa Chavarriaga Paige Claassen Israel Dominguez Jaylyn Gough Kathryn Graham Charlotte Harris Leslie Hittmeier

Micheli Oliver Janelle Paciencia Sarah Pulcino So Sinopoulos-Lloyd Cal Smith Nikki Smith Ashleigh Thompson Noah Warnock Devin Whetstone Emilia Wronski

Illustration by Brooklyn Bell

Original artwork for Coalition Snow

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FROM THE Guest EDITOR

It’ll forever be bananas to recognize when we’re doing the things that were once distant dreams. My first ‘holy moly we’re doing the thing!’ was this past December on an early morning skin up Okemo in queer, trans, and non-binary POC community. (Thank you Abby C. for your beautiful company.) Recently, I was honored to introduce a different community member to skinning. We are both in QTBIPOC community, are both born and raised Vermonters, and we both have grandparents that were incarcerated in the same Japanese internment camp (Minidoka). And then again, learning how to cross-country skate ski with other BIPOC folks in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont. These moments are all rooted in community. Community is really it, y’all. And now, this issue of Sisu is a physical extension of community. It’s a form of Mountaintop, our online community for BIPOC snow lovers. We have our virtual crew, and what you hold in your hands is another way this community is holding space, making relation (thank you Micheli Oliver for this term), getting to know one another. I hope it brings comfort. Also, joy. I hope it brings so much joy. Y’all deserve the world. Having this in my hands is something I’ve always wished for. Stories, art, photography, poetry, writing, contributions from the Mountaintop community, who I one day hope to share space with on the hill/on snow. That’s what kept me grounded when reaching out to folks to contribute. Being asked to write/create/operate on a timeline right now is a lot. Working through this process, honoring boundaries, and being a part of this creative arc and production has brought healing and been a good challenge. I’m deeply grateful to the Mountaintop community for contributing to this. I’m grateful to everyone who put their energy, time, effort, love, care, all the things in here, and for your trust and vulnerability. Getting to share space within these pages with y’all is an honor. Thank you to everyone who transforms spaces (on snow and everywhere) to be safe, affirming, sustainable, and survivable for folks in our beautiful diversity of intersections to thrive. Here’s to dismantling the capitalist imperialist white supremacist cis-heteropatriarchy (thank you bell hooks) with friends and joyful community. Gratitude,

Hana Saydek (they/ze) Guest Editor

FROM THE Editor

As you read this issue of Sisu Magazine, many of us who are included in these pages are mourning the end of winter. It’s a time of year where certain feelings emerge that can’t be replicated with experiences that don’t include snow. This may seem bizarre as so many people bemoan the start of shorter days, frigid nights, and relentless weather. But for those of us who have fallen in love with winter, we obsess about the snow, constantly refreshing our favorite weather report, checking in with friends, moving meetings and projects around so we don’t miss those experiences that make us feel so alive. I am incredibly grateful to all of the employees of the mountain resorts who worked tirelessly to ensure that our winter experiences would remain intact during a global pandemic. Every time I strapped on my board, loaded a lift, and made carefree turns down the mountain, I was reminded of my incredible privilege, which was only intensified with the recognition that most of the people around me, outside of gender, looked like me. It’s no secret that snowsports is a predominately cisgender, straight, able-bodied, white male industry. Skiing, snowboarding, snowmobiling, ice climbing, and the like have traditionally been this way for lots of reasons—barriers around transportation and equipment, the high cost, a culture that normalizes and celebrates toxic white male behavior. But that doesn’t mean that communities who reside outside of this most visible experience haven’t always been on the mountain or don’t want to experience the joy that comes from winter recreation. That’s why in this issue we are introducing Mountaintop, a virtual community that Coalition Snow (the big momma to Sisu Magazine) launched in the fall of 2020. Mountaintop is a community by and for women, trans, non-binary, two-spirit, and other underrepresented gender BIPOC snow lovers who are seeking a safe space to connect, grow, learn, and celebrate one another. It’s a place where people can be active agents in creating a more diverse and inclusive outdoor community that serves them. Mountaintop is managed by Coalition Snow Ambassadors Hana Saydeck, Nia Brinkley, and Evin Harris, and for this issue, I asked Hana to curate stories, photos, poetry, and more from the Mountaintop community. Similar to our last issue where members of The Black Foxes wrote their own stories about the topics that were important to them, members of Mountaintop were given blank pages to fill and fill they did. All of the pieces written by Mountaintop members are denoted with a small mountain icon like you see above. I hope that as you read their pieces—along with all of the writing of our other contributors—that you too are inspired to amplify the people who by their very existence and persistence are creating a new normal that will better serve us all.

Jennifer Gurecki (she/her) Editor in Chief

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Skiing While

Fat BY ALI WINES, she/her | @ali_wines

erry Godbout was 12 when her mother pulled her out of a crevasse. Growing up in the Canadian Rockies as the daughter of a career ski patroller meant that family vacations looked a little different from what her city peers experienced. “While other kids went to Disneyland, we went to Alaska,” she said. Life in the mountains led to Godbout becoming an accomplished skier, climber, and all-around mountain woman, before pursuing competitive speed skating as a teenager. As an athlete with Olympic ambitions, she had the support and coaching that you would expect: intensive training sessions, hours in the gym, and expert health and nutritional coaching, including a strict keto diet that helped her stay strong. It was when the competition stopped that the problems began. After retiring in her twenties, Godbout began to gain weight at an astonishing rate. “I was 135 pounds at my racing weight, and 18 percent body fat,” she said. By the time she had her second child, she was 280 pounds, with over 40 percent body fat. Her blood pressure was off the charts. “They told me I was going to have a stroke if nothing changed.” After years of begging doctors to treat her weight gain as not a lifestyle issue but

a medical one, Godbout was finally diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, a sometimes painful disease affecting fertility and the endocrine system, which often causes rapid weight gain. This diagnosis was validating, but only the beginning of her journey. With a frequently absent husband and a non-verbal child with Down’s Syndrome, Godbout knew she urgently needed to maintain her health. “If I’d had a heart attack or a stroke at that time, there was no one else. My children would have died alongside me.” She returned to a strict keto diet and slowly shed weight. She began to look forward to being able to ski again. As any skier will attest, skiing isn’t simply a sport; it’s a community and a way of life, which Godbout’s size had excluded her from. Godbout found she had sized out of women’s ranges, leaving her with no options but ill-fitting menswear and shell pants that left her exposed to brutal Alberta temperatures. Poor quality gear was coupled with disbelief from retailers about her expert skill level. Well-fitting gear isn’t just a matter of fashion. As Kerry points out, “When ski clothes don’t fit properly, you can’t bend to get into the proper stance to control your speed, so it becomes a safety issue.”

I will never be skinny. But I like the body I’m in right now and the things it’s capable of doing.

want to start skiing again, they feel inadequate and unwelcome—it comes as a shock.” With the average American woman now wearing a size 16 to 18, some outdoor brands are responding to consumer demand, including Columbia and Obermeyer, which produce skiwear up to size 22/3X. Balon recalls years at trade shows, advocating for a different approach. “In the early days it was tough—I’d be sitting in the car on calls, trying to shush my kids in the back seat. But because of my history in the industry, suppliers were willing to listen. Skiers in larger bodies want sports performance, not a shit-quality Walmart jacket.” And that’s what Godbout has been searching for. “I’m a proper outdoorswoman,” she said. “I know how to tie a bowline and read an altimeter. Fat people should be allowed to have functional pockets and good zippers.” Godbout’s story is not a surprise to Monica Balon, owner of PlusSnow, which sells technical ski-wear up to size 30 for women and 10XL for men. “There’s a massive misconception that plus-size people are not active enough. People’s bodies change all the time, but when they

While managing her condition will be a lifelong effort, she is optimistic about the future. Now a thriving single mom and professional bike mechanic, she is centered in the outdoor community she has always belonged to. “I will never be skinny. But I like the body I’m in right now and the things it’s capable of doing.”

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What problem are you out to solve with Alpine Parrot?

The unfortunate reality is that even in 2021, folks who look like me (plus-size and Latina) are ignored in the outdoor industry. I didn’t even think the outdoors was a place I could belong until I was in my late 20s; before then, I thought it was only something that thin white folks did. And then, when I started to discover my outdoor identity, I couldn’t find anything that actually fit me in terms of size, style, or personality. Outdoor apparel feels so serious in addition to exclusive; I felt it was time to fix that. Alpine Parrot’s mission is to create outdoor clothing that encourages and celebrates underrepresented people in the outdoors, namely BIPOC and people of size, while being technical enough to meet their needs.

WHY IS BODY INCLUSIVITY A THING? It baffles me. Some facts: the average size of American women is a size 16/18. 68 percent of American women are a size 14 and up. And yet, only 2.3 percent of clothing made by the top 15,000 brands is available to the plussize market. In this capitalist society, it seems strange that brands don’t think potentially increasing their sales by 200 percent is worth their time. This leaves me to think that either they don’t know or simply don’t want to know these facts, and that can only point to the unfortunate reality that fatphobia and racism (because there’s a correlation between people of color and people of size) are alive and well. Brands don’t want to see different people wearing their clothes (at least, not in their marketing), despite the benefit to the top line. To me, that’s a major issue.

THE PITCH Alpine Parrot An interview with RAQUEL VÈLEZ, she/her,

Founder of Alpine Parrot | @alpineparrot

WHAT DO YOU WANT PEOPLE TO KNOW ABOUT ALPINE PARROT? I want folks to know that Alpine Parrot, as a brand, has been created for the plus-size and BIPOC communities, by the community. We spent most of 2020 working closely with (yet socially distanced from) over 30 fit testers to make sure that the fit of the Ponderosa Pants is dialed and truly meets their needs. Community is one of this brand’s core values (the others are playfulness and adventure), so working with our customers won’t stop with just these pants. As a plus-size woman of color who loves being outside, I created Alpine Parrot out of a need to be seen and heard, and I won’t stop until that happens. We’re going to take flight this spring with a Kickstarter for our first product, the Ponderosa Pant. Anyone who wants to support us can sign up for our newsletter at alpineparrot. com; we want to hit our goal as quickly as possible to prove to the industry that brands like Alpine Parrot are needed and wanted! In the meantime, join us on Instagram at @alpineparrot for a conversation around the places that bring us joy and use the hashtag #HappyPlaceAP to share stories with the Alpine Parrot community.

WHY IS THE NAME ALPINE PARROT SPECIAL TO YOU? When you think of a parrot, you typically think of a rainbow bird that lives in tropical climates. Yet alpine parrots exist, too, and they are so unique and cool. There is only one species of alpine parrot in the world, and it lives in the Southern Alps of New Zealand. It’s called the kea, and they are sacred to Māori (the Indigenous people of Aotearoa). Most people don’t think about parrots playing in the snow, but these do! They’re smart, friendly, and playful. And probably best yet, despite their olive green exterior, they have these incredible rainbow underwings that brighten their surroundings when they fly. I can’t think of a better symbol for the Alpine Parrot market —just because folks don’t think we (people of size, people of color) exist, when we’re in our elements, we really shine.

ing something completely new with Alpine Parrot. I am committed to making a product that empowers those of size to accomplish what they want. In addition, with so many communities already focused on connecting people of size and people of color with nature, I’m committed to working with those groups all over the country (and eventually the world!). Once we’re out of strict pandemic mode, I’ll be sponsoring events, hosting pop-ups, and continuing to listen to and work with these communities to make great apparel for all of us. Together, we’ll transform the industry into one that is truly inclusive of everyone who wants to participate in the outdoors!

WHAT’S YOUR PERSONAL COMMITMENT TO MAKING THE OUTDOORS A MORE INCLUSIVE AND WELCOMING SPACE? From the start, I’ve seen Alpine Parrot as an opportunity to take a fresh look into how clothing for this community is made. I could have easily used sizing charts and measurements that already existed, but instead, I traveled across multiple states, meeting with a diverse community of people, taking their measurements, recording their feedback, and creat-

Clockwise from left: Stacks of the Ponderosa Pant; Ponderosa phone pocket; Ponderosa key ring Photos courtesy of Alpine Parrot

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ASK JENNY bruso QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS ABOUT LIFE, THE OUTDOORS, AND WHATEVER FROM THE CREATOR OF “UNLIKELY HIKERS,” AN ONLINE COMMUNITY FOR THE UNDERREPRESENTED OUTDOORSPERSON JENNY BRUSO, she/her-ish | @jennybruso

Dear Jenny Bruso, I’m ugly. That’s it. That’s the problem. I tell myself all of the time that this isn’t a real problem compared to all of the real problems in the world, but it rules my life and steals my energy. I’ve always felt this way. I’m 33 now, but it’s been in the last year that it has taken a toll on my overall wellbeing. I spend every day on video conference calls for work because of the pandemic and seeing my face reflected back is eroding the confidence I have in my skills and intelligence. I feel like a bad feminist. It’s all so stupid and shallow, but this pain has become the realest thing I know. There are hundreds of thousands of people dead from COVID-19 and I’m whining about being ugly? I’ve always overcompensated by trying to be the smartest, the funniest, the fastest on the trail, the nicest, the most reliable, but my selfhatred is trashing those parts of me, too. And whatever validation I got from being all of those “good” things has basically disappeared because 2020 canceled socializing. When I’ve mustered the guts to share these feelings, I always end up feeling so embarrassed and ashamed. My parents tell me that what I see as ugly isn’t how anyone with sense sees me. They tell me I was meant to be something more than beautiful and I know that is such a lovely thing to say, but it doesn’t change things. My ex was always kind about my insecurities, but they didn’t really know what to do or say except tell me I was hung up on things that don’t matter

and that they loved me for me, including the way I looked. If I’m really honest with myself, my ex and I eventually broke up because I pushed them away due to these insecurities. It felt like a matter of time before they saw what I see when I look in the mirror. I haven’t dated anyone else since. The prospect of being miserable about my looks and alone for the rest of my life is not the life I want to live. Signed, Bad Feminist

Dear BF, You are not stupid, you are not shallow, and you are not a bad feminist, but I want to reframe this a little: being ugly is not the problem. I’ve spent decades trying to find the right words to describe how fucked up it is that we live in a culture that places more importance on our looks over whether or not we’re good people. The effects of this can be deeply traumatizing and however you feel is valid. I will not tell you that you are not ugly. Why? Because it’s a knee-jerk thing to say, it doesn’t actually help, and it invalidates your experience. I’m a fat person and when I talk about the harmful things I experience, people who aren’t fat are quick to try to make me feel “better” by telling me I’m not fat or downplaying what I’ve described. I am literally fat. I’m not expressing a feeling and I’m not assigning moral value to the word. These responses tell me they prioritize their feelings over my actual experience.

Few things matter as much as a viral pandemic, it’s not exactly a fair bar. Your feelings and your quality of life matter and a worldwide crisis can trigger us in confusing ways. Ugliness, in the physical sense, is a social construct. So is beauty. Patriarchy and capitalism decide what is and isn’t attractive, how we might go about “fixing” it, and then drag us as shallow and vapid for caring. It’s an unending circle jerk designed to keep us disempowered and forking our money over to the $93.5 billion beauty industry. The gag is that these standards are always changing so that no one, even the people categorized as attractive, will ever be able to completely chase beauty down.

Ugliness, in the physical sense, is a social construct. So is beauty. Patriarchy and capitalism decide what is and isn’t attractive...

Knowing this may not change your feelings in the same way it won’t change the way people treat people they find unattractive. We can know many things intellectually and still feel what we feel. Feelings aren’t facts, but I don’t say that to place the onus of responsibility on you. You didn’t come up with these thoughts on your own. They are based on the messaging that we’re all inundated with every day. It’s not a coincidence, nor is it an indication of our intelligence, that Botox procedures have gone up around 800 percent since the year 2000 and 60 percent of elementary school-aged girls are worried about their weight.

BF, if you aren’t in therapy, I want you to seek it out. The people in your life might not be able to see past how much they love you when you confide in them about your pain. You need an unbiased ear. Also, that overcompensating you described is keeping people from really knowing you. I’ve been using online therapy and I love it. You can list all of the things you’re looking for along with your specific issues and get matched with a qualified professional. Another great part of online therapy is that you will have options when it comes to how you want your sessions: video chat, phone chat, text, etc. If you don’t want to be seen on video, you don’t have to be.

For what it’s worth, seeing myself every day on video conference calls is beyond draining. None of us are wired for that. Check the programs you use to see if there’s a way to close out the view of yourself on screen without turning off the camera. I know you can on some platforms.

I also want you to work on reframing and ultimately changing your thoughts. Have you ever heard of neuroplasticity? Scientists have discovered that the architecture of our brains can literally change if we work on changing our thoughts. Every time we think a certain thought, it deepens a groove, or neural pathway, where that thought lives. The deeper the groove, the more fixed a thought becomes. New thoughts create new neural pathways. It takes a lot of work, but over time, those obsessive, painful thoughts can fade. I want to be clear that I’m not shitting on the desire for beauty, though I know you didn’t explicitly say that’s what you want. Beauty is a currency, so for those with fewer privileges, it’s survival. Many people use their beauty, or chase society’s standards of beauty, to ensure their ability to keep a roof over their heads or pass as the gender they identify with or to distract from something in their lives that affects their ability to otherwise thrive. This narrative you’re spinning about ending up alone contradicts the person in your letter who is deeply loved by their parents and by an expartner. Believe them when they tell you how they love you. Lastly, BF, I want you to think about who you would be if our looks truly didn’t matter. What would you do? What would you want? Why wait? Love, Jenny Bruso

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m o M y M o T e d u t i t a Gr

n June 29, 1987, my mom immigrated to Eastern Shoshone/ShoshoneBannock land (what is referred to as Logan, Utah) from Changhua, Taiwan. Taiwan is known for its subtropical climate, with sticky and humid temperatures that linger almost year-round. When the sun isn’t shining down fiercely during the winter months, typhoon season washes over the summer season. The island’s climate was a stark contrast to the cold, dry, powerful winters that Utah offered—yet my mom embraced it. My mom was always curious about the snow, but it wasn’t until 2001 that she began researching snow sports. I was in elementary school at the time and I had expressed to her that all my classmates would talk about skiing with their

families on the weekends. Without missing a beat, she became determined to teach me and my sister how to ski, even when she wasn’t sure how to ski herself. Faced with numerous questions, affordability was the first inquiry. After discovering it was $18 for a half-day pass and $20 for rentals at our hometown’s nearby resort, she bit the bullet and we went skiing the following weekend. With minimal knowledge of how to dress for the snow, my mom sprawled the warmest clothes we had across the living room floor. Chaos would ensue as my sister and I would pull a pair of jeans over the pajama pants we woke up already wearing and topped off our makeshift layering with snow pants. We would layer bulky sweaters one after another until we looked like mini Michelin men. For final touches, we each wore three to five cotton/polyester socks because we didn’t know that wool socks would do the trick.

she never worried a bout fitting in and alwa ys chose to show up in her full humanity.

Once we arrived at the mountain, we got our rentals and headed towards the bunny hill. As soon as the ski boots clicked into place, all havoc broke loose. My sister went flying one way, I in the opposite direction, with my mom trying to catch the two of us whilst trying to figure out skiing herself. We continued like this for what seemed like hours. At the time, my mom didn’t realize lessons were offered. She later recounted how she observed the ski school instructors telling young skiers to “pizza” and “french fry” and to follow an S-pattern. She learned how to ski quickly because she needed to keep us safe. After cracking the code, she imitated what she observed, and taught my sister and me how to ski. Over the next few months, we slowly progressed and graduated to the smallest lift at the resort. My sister and I would sit on a lift together and my mom always sat on the lift behind us. I remember a man asking if she was a single, to which she responded, “No, I’m married,” and skied into the line behind us. It was the perfect embodiment of my mom’s character and her experiences as a skier. Unaware of skier lingo, she never worried about fitting in and always chose to show up in her full humanity. The intergenerational bond we shared for our love of skiing is something that I recognize is not a common experience. Access, affordability, and resources were all fundamental in our family’s ability to try out the sport and it’s a privilege my mom reminded us to never take for granted. She acknowledged that we were all visitors and that these beautiful spaces needed to be respected.

BY KIKI ONG, sh e/her | @k.o.s low Photos

My mom figured out the pieces so we could share this experience together. In a true, bold act of love, my mom dove straight into the deep end of the world of snow sports to make one small pocket of our lives more comforting. She saw the ways that we were outwardly different from the community and wanted us to connect with others in a way where we could stay true to ourselves. It was one of the greatest gifts my mom taught me.

courtesy of Kiki O

e B t ’ n a C You e e S t ’ n a C What You sisu

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BY CLAIRE SMALLWOOD, she/her, Executive Director & Co-founder of SheJumps PHOTOS BY LESLIE HITTMEIER @shejumps | @lesliehittmeier

“Sweetie, we already make a pink ski. What more do you girls want?” Fourteen years ago, when I attended the Snowsports Industries of America (SIA) tradeshow with Vanessa Pierce and Lynsey Dyer, this is the type of reaction we encountered. We were at the show to garner support from ski and snowboard brands for SheJumps, our new nonprofit, founded with a mission to address gender equality in the outdoors. People laughed at the ‘audacity’ of our project.

This only fueled us to create programming that women yearned for, like avalanche certifications and ski mountaineering courses, and over the years, we’ve demonstrated the need for SheJumps. Last year alone, we helped more than 8,000 women and girls get outside, and our programs are growing 30 percent each year on average. What we’ve learned by working with so many women is that mentorship is a critical piece of providing access to outdoor sports. But for many people, including myself, that role of a mentor in the outdoors has typically been filled by cisgender, straight, able-bodied white men, and more recently, white women. Women attend our programs to learn from one another and feel encouraged by someone who reflects their lived identity. Women are hungry for support and encouragement to navigate the learning curve of outdoor adventure. But when we use the term women, are we being inclusive of all women? As the popularity of the outdoors grows, able-bodied, cisgender, white-led organizations, like SheJumps, need to address outdoor accessibility. If you scroll through our roster, you’ll see a lot of white faces—including mine. These individuals each come to our organization with a different connection to our cause. Healing from trauma, mental health, physical activity, fostering resilience—what the outdoors do for each of us cannot be boiled down to a single reason for ‘why’ we do what we do. If that’s true, then the only common passion we all share is simple: outdoor access.

“Sweetie, we already make a

pink ski. What more do you girls

want?”

As popularity for the outdoors booms—especially backcountry skiing—we are asking ourselves if we’re employing the same bullshit exclusionary practices that made SheJumps a necessary thing in the first place. How are we pushing for a new understanding of what mentorship is to make it more accessible and inclusive? I’ve been backcountry skiing for more than 15 years, and it became clear very early in my experience that any misstep would be attributed to my gender, furthering the stereotype that women don’t belong in the backcountry. As an example, one of the easy runs from the parking lot in Rogers Pass (outside Revelstoke, British Columbia) is called the Girlfriend Line. Maybe I missed the adjoining Boyfriend Line, but I’m willing to bet that it doesn’t exist. This example further demonstrates that mentorship seems to be a one-way, predefined street. Standing on top of an untouched slope of deep, soft powder in the backcountry is such a profound experience. And while you may have earned your spot by huffing and puffing to climb up there, you’re never alone. You stand on the shoulders of mentors who helped you get there.

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While the value of mentorship with people who ‘look like you’ should not be overrated, what happens when no one looks like you? For generations, state and federal laws, in addition to dominant cultural norms and practices, have built and maintained barriers that have excluded BIPOC from equitable participation in this industry. They have restricted opportunities, visibility, and development for these leaders, athletes, and business owners. We all know skiing is expensive, but the very concept of leaving the confines of a ski resort is laden with privilege; even knowing how to ski or simply having the time to do so is a luxury. When I hear people complaining about the crowded hills, I imagine how they came to the freedom of earning turns. Did they emerge from the womb understanding the complex dynamics of snow science and terrain management? Were they experts at arching turns on the first go? Did they always have the latest and greatest gear?

We need a new approach to mentorship, and we need to grow the pipeline of mentors. As white women, what steps can we take to make this happen? First and foremost, we can all be part of a shift to redefine “radness” in the outdoors. Working to encourage an inclusive tone of learning and growth in the outdoors will help to cut down on imposter syndrome (hopefully) for everyone. We must break down stereotypes of “good skiing” (or snowboarding) and focus on what really makes a good rider: someone who has fun and keeps others safe on the mountain. Starting at this baseline is an important step because it reinforces that we are all humans with different strengths and weaknesses and no one was born knowing how to do any of this. From here, avalanche education becomes an honest and ongoing conversation that is used to “call in” more people to the backcountry; not propagate gatekeeping or social hierarchies.

I t be came cl ear

ve ry earl y

in my expe rie nc e t hat any mis step woul d be

att ributed to my ge nder and

fu rt he r t he stereoty pe

t hat wome n di dn’ t be long in t he back cou ntry.

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Beyond encouraging responsible backcountry behavior (and a healthy dose of humility), the next step toward revolutionizing our mentorship model is to invest in scholarships and progression programs that can ultimately lead to more Black, Indigenous, and Women of Color feeling knowledgeable in the outdoors. From first aid scholarships and skiing lessons or affordable gear swaps to avalanche or guiding certifications, what’s good for Women of Color is good for everyone! By focusing our efforts on these pathways we will subsequently lift all women up. When we actively encourage learning and growth in the outdoors—and shine a light on all the nuances, challenges, and barriers—we are being collective stewards of the outdoor experience, working to foster belonging in a sustainable way. Informal programs and opportunities for networking are also critical steps in building a community of belonging for Women of Color in the backcountry. Developing these programs should also be done in a way that doesn’t require Women of Color to exploit their stories or lived experiences. Ultimately, the goal should be to diversify leadership positions across the industry as well as offer recreational opportunities for this mentorship pipeline to work. From ski guides and avalanche educators to athletes and CEOs, we need to keep an eye on how power is shared in these influential roles by not just providing mentorship and introductory courses, but ensuring there are facilitated progression paths toward professional career development with equitable compensation. With the massive interest and growth of winter backcountry adventures, we can all play a part in ushering in the new cohort of backcountry riders. As a white-led organization, SheJumps has a responsibility to make the future of skiing and snowboarding look different by addressing these needs and calling on our community to lean into the conversation. Unlike the quick fix of making a pair of pink skis, I’m committed to ensuring that SheJumps will continue to work toward long-term equity for all by providing free and low-cost outdoor education programs and specific initiatives that benefit Women of Color. While the powder panic to get first tracks is a real-deal phenomenon, so is the idea of remembering that someone skipped out on a powder day (or two) to help you learn the ropes as well.

Bu t more important ly, we ne ed to als o addres s

how BI POC parti ci pants can gain expe rie nc e to

be come mentors in t he back cou ntry t he mse lv es.

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Our Ancestors’ Wildest Dreams A collection of portraits of femme, non-binary, and trans womxn wearing Indigenous art made throughout Turtle Island. To be Indigenous is to be on the land. Our ways intertribally connect us, in unique ways, to the land our ancestors are from. Our resilience is connected to place, connected to our world. Through ceremony, we reconnect to our ancestors, to a way of life that has attempted to be systematically stripped. And although a system has tried to change us, to get rid of us, with resiliency we are still here. To me, this is what wearing Indigenous-made, loud, big, and beautiful earrings represents. It supports the ceremony of beading, with the statement that we are still here. And that is just one reason our earrings are worn. In these photos, you see a piece of jewelry passed down from matriarch to matriarch. You see wearable art that one has made themselves and best friends’ hand-made pieces; these are not just earrings to us. Each day I represent a Tribe and Nation on my ears, I get to share a piece of culture. It’s a small way to call our resiliency. Every single person is different, every single pair of earrings is different, and that is just the point. We are our ancestors’ wildest dreams. ~ Micheli Oliver

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Jordan Marie Brings Three White Horses Daniel | @naitvein_la

Kul Wičasa Lakota, citizen of Kul Wičasa Oyaté Photo: Devin Whetstone | @devinwhetstone Earrings: Jana Schmeiding | @janaunplgd

Lydia Jennings

Yoeme / Wix árika

Photo: Ashleigh Thompson | @ashanishinaabe

Haliehana Stepetin

@Indigenous_agent Unangax̂

Earrings: Warren Steven Scott @warrenstevenscott

Asdzaa Renae Lee | @surelee

Renee Hutchens | @renay.h Diné

Diné

Photo: Eric Arce | @pedalhomie

Earrings: Nanibaa Beck | @notabove

Earrings: Renee Hutchens

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Tsintah Haseyah | @tsintah_haseyah Diné / Naakai

Earrings: Family heirloom

Tena Bear

Apsáalookebía (Crow)

Earrings: Trickster Company | @trickstercompany

Rachel Baldwin | @rachelbalwin56

Brothertown Indian

Photo: Micheli Oliver | @micsteeze Earrings: Rebekah Stevens | @beksbeads

Ellen Bradley | @ellengbradley Tlingit

Photo: Kathryn Graham | @katgrahammm

sisuSarah Ortegon | @nonookeiht_bee3eisei MAGAZINE

Eastern Shoshone / Northern Arapaho Photo: Dakota Casias Earrings: Levi Blackwolf | @magwagraphy

Tara Kerzhner | @tarakerzhner Nez Perce

Photo: Paige Claassen | @paigeclaassen

Earrings: Family heirloom

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Natasha Myhal | @natasha_marissa

Anishinaabe, citizen of the Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians Photo: Jaylyn Gough | @jaylyn.gough Earrings: Willow Lovecky | @redwillowbeading

Wynnē Weddell | @rainbowmountain_

Ruth Miller | @frompeaksnpinetrees

Curyung Tribe / Dena'ina Athabaskan

Ihanktonwan Nation / Yankton Sioux

Photo: Sarah Pulcino | @sarah.pulcino.photography

Earrings: Wynnē Weddell

Earrings: Danika Naccarella | @designsbydanika

Lizzy Smith | @lizzyannhill Ojibwe

Earrings: Lizzy Smith | @chickadeebeading

Fairlee Frey-Mondin | @fairleefrey_mondin

Deenaalee Hodgdon | @go_barefoot

Earrings: Kat | @khildebrand907

Photo: Micheli Oliver | @micsteeze

Unangax̂ / Siletz

Sugpiaq / Deg Xit'an Dené

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Rubia Buck | @rubiajoy

Mdewakanton Dakota, citizen of Prairie Island Indian Community Photo: Demetria Buck | @demetriabuck Earrings: Tayler Gutierrez | @kamamabeadwork

Through ceremony, we reconnect to our ancestors, to a way of life that has attempted to be systematically stripped. 31

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Pinar Sinopoulos-Lloyd | @queerquechua Quechua

Myia Antone | @alohamyia

Photo: So Sinopoulos-Lloyd | @borealfaun

Sḵwx̱wú7mesh chen

Earrings: Ashley Buttineau @georgianbaybeadwork

Sasha Strong | @sasha2strong

Micheli Oliver | @micsteeze

Photo: Israel Dominguez | @izdomin

Photo: Cal Smith | @el_indio27

Earrings: Jenny Valadez Fraire | @jenti.vf

Earrings: Sarah Ortegon | @nonookeiht_bee3eisei

Anishinabekwe

Amskapi Piikani Blackfeet / Absentee Shawnee

Orienna Greenberg | @cingquk Yup'ik

Photo: Noah Warnock | @noahwarn Earrings: Mako Montrue

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Land, Language, Power BY MICHELI OLIVER, she/zir & MYIA ANTONE, she/her @micsteeze

| @alohamyia / @indigwomenoutdoors

Two Indigenous womxn from different parts of Turtle Island discuss the power of language, Indigenous words, and how these words embody relationships with the world around us.

ur hearts race and our smiles grow the closer to the top of the mountains we get. Our spirit dances and our skis glide as we wave goodbye to the trees that showed us our way up—now down. The movement feels like wind carrying us down, whistling sweet songs in our ears. Then as we reach the end, breathing hard, gratitude becomes overwhelming for where we are and what we get to do. We get to be here because our ancestors took care of these lands and waters. We have a responsibility to protect these sacred places because we too will become ancestors one day. The fact that we get to skin up and ski down is resistance and we are not recreating, but making relation with relatives. Trees, Plants, Creatures are all our relatives and to ski is to be with them and learn from them. When we are on the land, we see the importance of us in all of it. We see each fingerprint, a woven thread Photo by Micheli Oliver | @micsteeze

that Indigenous peoples have strung together, understanding the inner workings of each living being. Striving to work with and work for this world, seeing all as equal, no hierarchy. In Niitsítapi (Blackfeet) and Shawnee culture, where Micheli’s ancestors are descended from, the language of the people reflects their relationship to the land. The Blackfeet word for buffalo is “iinnii” and this word also means “giver of life.” The buffalo was not just an object to eat, packaged food in the store, but a giver of life to the people. Relationships and respect for creatures and the land is represented in our words. To understand how Indigenous peoples have such a deep connection to our traditional lands is to understand how long we have been living with it. Our ancestors lived and breathed in these same mountains that we are now climbing and skiing. They knew the plants inside and out, giving specific names to the trees that so generously give us

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Bringing the languages back that are rooted in Traditional Knowledge, love, and responsibility

is how we protect and love Mother Earth for who she is.

Photo by Micheli Oliver | @micsteeze

life. The Skwxwú7mesh Stélmexw (Squamish Nation), where Myia is from, has a language that mimics the way the wind travels across her territory, filling every nook and cranny of those lands with the beautiful song of their language. Indigenous languages are so intertwined with our lands that to lose our languages is to lose our lands and every piece of who we are as Indigenous peoples. The current effort for the revitalization of Indigenous languages is not only necessary for cultural preservation, but for land revitalization as well. The dominance of English around the world has resulted in different societies revolving around Americanized English context and subtext. This allows for a very narrow understanding in which English speakers understand the world around them. Some words do not properly translate their subtext into English and separately there are consequences to the use and meanings of some Anglo-Saxon words. While some words might directly translate, ultimately the cultural context of words such as “wild,” “nature,” “outside,” “conquer,” and “playground,” have created a misunderstanding of human relationships with the environment. However, we must understand that this was intentional. In the colonial world, we have grown up with the concept of a wilderness area, which is defined by law as “an area where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain.”1 The word visitor sticks out here, as well as the concept of “the wild” as a place only to see and visit, a place to have a connection

to, not to have a relationship with. This is a tactic separating human beings from our natural place of belonging in and belonging to the natural world, which places direct contrast to Indigenous ways of being. The Wilderness Act of 1964 has delineated the word wilderness as meaning a space devoid of direct human influence, and this designation has, in turn, shaped the way in which North America controls the environment. This has created fundamental issues that impact Indigenous peoples and our lands. To revitalize our Indigenous languages and actively speak/use them is to heal the land from the destruction that the colonial mindset has believed to be progress. Bringing the languages back that are rooted in Traditional Knowledge, love, and responsibility is how we protect and love Mother Earth for who she is. It is important to understand that in Western culture, the concept of wilderness is rooted in Judeo-Christian fundamentalism. It was the Europeans who brought this concept to North America in an effort to “tame” the wilderness.2 The English word that has been associated with natural environments has created not only a disconnect from nature but a cultural hierarchy of nature as well. In outdoor recreation, those who claim to have a connection to the outside world are still plagued by this ideology of “taming” and “conquering” land. Mountain climbers, skiers, and snowboarders set out to “peak bag.” Such motivations have made “peakbagging” quite popular, further perpetuating a mindset to take and use more of stolen Native lands. It is all woven together and purposeful. Indigenous peoples were removed from their lands and many of their lands were designated under the law as wilderness areas under the definition of untrammeled areas. It wasn’t only Native people who suffered from the separation of homelands; the designated wilderness areas suffered the consequences of not having their people. One of the best examples to understand the reliance an ecosystem has on humans is wildfire. A forest relies on small fires for soil health, biodiversity, and resilience to larger wildfires. However, there is only one natural igniter of fire: lightning. For hundreds of years Indigenous peoples have lit fires, for various reasons, and the forest’s health was due in part to these fires. We saw the devastation fires around the western United States caused and the outdoor community lost homes, life, and critical ecosystems. When wilderness areas and national parks were established, there became a capitalistic control of the land, lumber companies suddenly had a say, and the land was seen for what it can do for humans. The myth of the wilderness was falsely seen as protection, when in fact it is a concept born out of a westernized desire for power and money.

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The United Nations made 2019 the Year of Indigenous Languages, a movement uplifting the voices who are explaining the importance of revitalizing Indigenous dialects globally and sharing the common fear of losing hundreds of Indigenous languages around the world. This transpired because English is spoken by around 20 percent of the world and the number of speakers is steadily rising. This makes English both a mediating language for cross-cultural communication and the hegemonic dialect around the world. Although there are many thousands of Tribes and Nations vernaculars, there is a fear that half of the world’s languages will be extinct by the end of this century.3 While it was only 365 days that were focused on Indigenous Languages globally, Indigenous peoples have made every year the Year of Indigenous Languages. We do this because we know that not only does saving a language save its peoples, but it too saves their cultures, perspectives, and ideas. Worldview is so deeply rooted in languages that at times, it may be impossible to translate a similar word from an Indigenous language to English along with a similar meaning. This loss of translation and understanding can continue homogenous ideas of the world that could become destructive. For example, in Cree, there is a word for ‘our land’ that describes a nation’s territory held in collective ownership, with an understanding of equal contributions to a group, acting without hierarchy or tiers of power. The word is askîhk and the translation to English as discussed Photo by Mirae Campbell | @miraecampbell

above is “land,” which comes with western concepts of ownership and extraction and thus makes an inability for a direct translation of this word.4 In colonial structures, land is something to buy, earn and own, something that represents wealth and therefore power. Because of this nuance, the words askîhk and land actually have very different meanings. Meanings such as viewing land as a collective and viewing place as not that of direct ownership, but of a mutually beneficial relationship and kinship. A majority of Indigenous peoples from around the world do not have an equivalent of the word and context behind wilderness. Many communities do not acknowledge the clear removal and separation of man and nature. In Mexico, the Raramuri people believe that Raramuri tradition directly counters a western ideology of wilderness; one illustration is Salmon’s observation that “peyote, datura, maize, morning glory, brazilwood, coyotes, crows, bears, and deer are all humans.”5 Their language does not see non-humans, but only sees a connection of a community or an ecosystem that includes humans, as living creatures are all one and the same. To a westernized English speaker, saying a bear is a human violates the stringent definition given to what a human is. To further understand this concept, one must seek out the definition of “human” in English. According to Google, human is defined as “a human being, especially a person as distinguished from an animal;” the word creates a divergence from other organisms and thus, a human bear would likely confuse most people. The concept of a human bear however is complex and although the meanings behind human will be hard to completely change, maybe it could be used as an example for the relationship humans can have with their environment. Mohawk tradition shares in this cycle of understanding; they believe that the cycle of water is life and without the contribution of every living organism, the cycle would be broken.6 There is a clear importance to keeping Indigenous languages burning bright, but how does saving vernacular relate to stewarding Mother Earth and creating relationships with the world around us? The Māori people, Indigenous to New Zealand, have a prominent and widely spoken language within their culture. In the attempt to translate it, it was made clear that “the natural world for Māori, we argue, cannot be uncritically translated, because it is meant to evade the restrictions imposed on it by the human mind,

Myia

antOne

(she/her/hers) is currently a student in an advanced Skwxwú7mesh sníchim (Squamish language) program. Being 1 of ~40 speakers means she carries a lot of responsibility revitalizing and passing down her language. She recently founded the nonprofit Indigenous Women Outdoors to break down barriers that exist for Indigenous women and folx to get out on the land and try new outdoor activities. She is passionate about (re) connecting Indigenous peoples to their lands and roots because it allows an opportunity for healing. In her spare time, you can typically find Myia trying not to fall on her skateboard, skiing or biking in her mountains, medicine harvesting, or swimming in the ocean.

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Micheli Oliver

is a descendant of the Amskapi Piikani Niitsítapi, Shawnee, Northern Italian and Southern Irish peoples’. She was born and raised on the lands of the Cheyenne, Ute and Arapaho peoples colonized as ‘Colorado.’ Surrounded by mountains and high plains, Micheli was immersed in skiing, hunting and fishing from a young age. Today she is a semi-professional skier, photographer, and the research director at Native Land Digital. She tells Indigenous stories with photos and the reclaiming of Indigenous land through maps.

Photo courtesy of Micheli Oliver

and it arranges itself in its own time, in its own relationships with all other entities, and with its own outcome at the forefront.”7 Translating terms from Māori to English is impossible because these complex and ancient philosophies that go far past the human brain will not be understood. It is this type of understanding, the world beyond humans, that creates a society of people who know their relationship with the land and thus the responsibility for stewardship. Most Indigenous languages hold a completely different understanding of time and space compared to Western beliefs. To understand time not as a linear notion, but rather nonlinear understanding is to abolish the western understanding of hierarchy. Kimmerer also shares in this concept, claiming “...there is so much we cannot yet sense with our limited human capacity. Tree conversations are still far above our heads.”8 To speak these words and to apply language with this type of respect allows for nature to be our equal and even further than that, for humans and nature to become indistinguishable from one another. The world we live in is built upon a series of relationships that are shaped by our interactions. The language we use to speak and think is how we make sense of the web of relationships we are encompassed in. We speak different languages, meaning we come from different perspectives. While scientific vocabulary allows us to understand what is happening to our glaciers during climate change, it belittles the mountains to a subject that is not connected to us. But when we realize these glaciers are alive and have their own stories to tell, how do we listen? Embedded in Native languages is our responsibility of taking care of the lands and waters that have taken care of us. Our stories, traditions, and cultures are grounded in our languages. Revitalizing Indigenous languages is reclaiming our stories and our power. It allows us to create new relationships with the world around us and honor those we already have. To listen to the Native tongue is to know the land, to hear the stories of people and place, as one and the same. It is with words we change perspectives, for words are creation of thought and story.

References: 1. “1964 Wilderness Act.” Wilder ness.net, www.wilderness.net/ nwps/legisact. 2. Klien, David R. “Wilderness: A Western Concept Alien to Arctic Cultures.” Information North Vol. 20 No. 3, Sept. 1994, arcticcircle. uconn.edu/HistoryCulture/wilder ness.html. 3. Willemsen, Jeroen. “2019 Is UN’s International Year of Indige nous Languages. And We Need It to Be.” Sciencenordic.com, 25 Jan. 2019. 4. MacLean, Taylor. “Lost in Transla tion: How Language Can Contain a Worldview.” Lost in Translation: How Language Can Contain a Worldview | Centre for Indigenous Studies, 2010. 5. Salmon, Enrique “Kincentric Ecol ogy: Indigenous Perceptions of the Human-Nature Relationship” Ecological Applications Volume 10, Issue 5, 2000. 6. Porter, Tom, and Lesley Forrester. And Grandma Said ... Iroquois Teachings: as Passed down through the Oral Tradition. Xlibris Corp, 2008. 7. Mika, Carl and Georgina, Stew art. “Lost in Translation: Western Representations of Māori Knowl edge.” Open Review of Educa tional Research, vol. 4, no. 1, 23 July 2017, pp. 134–146. 8. Kimmerer, Robin Wall. Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants. Milkweed Editions, 2015.

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BY ELIZABETH SAHAGÚN, she/her | @eliz_sahagun

really committed to learning to lead this year as part of a larger project to expand the ice climbing community to be more equitable and inclusive. Inspired by my friend Theresa Silveyra’s 30 climbs of Wy’East (Mt. Hood) before she turned 30 as a fundraiser to support organizations committed to diversity and inclusion in the outdoors, I set out on a similar mission: to climb 30 ice routes with people of underrepresented backgrounds before my 30th birthday and have vulnerable conversations about why representation is so important. I have been climbing for three years now, and I decided it was time to become an honest and confident leader in the community.

I spent a good amount of time practicing putting in screws. I had to learn to trust them, and I had to learn to navigate the medium more safely and securely. Leading has been a major crux in ice climbing for me—in a physical sense because of the skill and practice that it takes, but also in a symbolic sense because there are not very many women like me leading on ice. Women face a huge achievement gap in alpinism, and it is even wider for women of color. I have had to learn how to navigate another predominantly white space just to test whether I could trust a community to catch me if I fall. Climbing just to

Photo by Janelle Paciencia | @janelle_takesphotos

get yourself to the top is one thing. It is a much scarier thing to be the first one up and making sure you are making smart decisions for yourself and those that will follow. It is important for us to become leaders though, so we can become the role models we want to see and change the current narratives around mountaineering. For years, I thought leading on ice took an absurd amount of strength, grit, and risk taking. I recently built up the confidence to do my first leads, and I realized that that is not quite true. Those qualities are a product of egotistical conquest culture that are used to gatekeep, and it really discourages women from picking up their own set of screws. To me, leading ice is a delicate craft of self-awareness and grace. And just like every other craft, it takes knowledge, skills, humility, and practice. This is the alpine narrative that a lot of us live, and we just keep being told it is not the right one.

On ice, that protection is ice screws. Ice screws are sharp, hollow screws that you put into the ice. Ice is so strong that those screws WILL catch you if you place them tactfully. Reading the ice is crucial. Where is the ice thickest and straightest? Is there a small concavity that will make it stronger? Is it near a rounded area that will make it weaker? How much air is in it? What is behind it? What temperature is it? Then you check your self-awareness. How tired is my body? Is it worth using strength to pause here for a screw or should I go a little higher? Can I have good leverage here? Are there any quick adjustments I can make to put in a screw just a little bit more safely or efficiently?

Photo by Nikki Smith / Pull Photography | @nikkik_smith / @pullphoto

The real setback is that we start clashing with egos as we become more advanced climbers. A lot of people are incredibly resistant to a new narrative. I have come to realize that the people that have told me I can’t or shouldn’t are the most insecure people I’ve met in the outdoors. Just because they can’t meet their own toxic standards does not mean it’s okay for them to project that onto us. It also does not mean that our way of doing things is wrong. This narrative of grace is valid, and it is also something I have seen in the most talented climbers I know. They move so gracefully, they look like they are dancing with the ice and not bashing it just to get to the top. Leading on ice is graceful, vulnerable, and liberating. Leading on ice can be feminine. There just needs to be enough of us leading to the glass ceiling that exists on mountaintops. Maybe by embracing this different narrative, more of us can find it in ourselves to rack up some screws, learn some new dance moves, and do our part in smashing that ceiling.

LEARNING TO LEAD MEANS learning to put up a route so someone else can climb it too. “Leading” in climbing means you are not attached to anything at the top. You are the first climber taking the rope from the bottom. You put in “protection” gear as you climb and clip the rope into it as you go. If you fall on lead, you will fall depending on where your last piece of protection was.

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44 Photos courtesy of Nikki Smith

An interview with NIKKI SMITH, she/her by HANNAH SPENDLOVE, she/her @nikkik_smith | @rather_b_wrecking

Nikki Smith, widely known in the outdoor industry as a talented photographer, climber, and writer, has grown from writing guidebooks and putting up first ascents to becoming an advocate for LGBTQIA+ climbers. She first began photographing climbing after being injured and temporarily unable to climb, and is now proving that she can adapt and continue to persevere in a male-dominated industry as a trans woman.

TODAY YOUR PHOTOGRAPHY CAN BE FOUND IN GUIDEBOOKS, CATALOGS, AND OTHER OUTDOOR PUBLICATIONS. HOW DID YOU START TO GET INTO PHOTOGRAPHY?

I started taking photos when I was five with a point-andshoot camera my dad gave me. He entered a few of my bad photos in the Utah State Fair and I won a blue ribbon, but I liked drawing and painting more than photography until I was able to use a darkroom in high school. Being involved in the entire process brought more creativity and freedom. I photographed climbing starting in high school, but I didn’t get serious about it until college. I pulled tendons in two fingers on a boulder problem and couldn’t climb, but still wanted to go out with my friends, so I started focusing on photography. I sought out a few established photographers in Salt Lake and begged them to critique my work and pushed myself to keep learning and improving. I slowly started to get work published and put everything I made back into my camera equipment. Photography offers windows into other worlds, other lives. Photographers are offered glimpses into worlds that even the family members of our subjects do not often get to see. As much as I like to take people to new places, show new experiences and our amazing world, my most important work is my portraits. Trying to summarize a person in one photo. Showing who they are to others. I didn’t fully realize how important this can be until I lost friends in the mountains and my portraits and action photos were used by friends and family to memorialize them.

BESIDES BEING AN ACCOMPLISHED PHOTOGRAPHER, YOU HAVE ESTABLISHED MORE THAN 300 BOULDERING AND ROPE-CLIMBING FIRST ASCENTS. WHAT INITIALLY DREW YOU TO CLIMBING AND HOW HAS THAT CONTINUED TO EVOLVE? I started climbing at 16. I’d always been afraid of heights and hated rappelling, but the first time I tied into a rope and climbed, I knew it was what I wanted to do. It required a focus that quieted everything else. Nothing else existed when I was there, just the rock, holds, and those with me. I had to solve a new problem with every climb. Some I could unlock easily in a single try, some took years to unlock the intricacies to adapt my body and movements to match. The outdoors and climbing were some of the few places I’ve ever felt I belonged. There are definitely physical differences now. My center of gravity is different. Overhangs and roofs are slightly different as my chest forces me to keep my body further from the wall. Hormonal changes have resulted in major muscle loss and a redistribution of fat. I’m losing and gaining weight at the same time. My skin is thinner, resulting in more bruising and I have to tape the backs of my hands more in cracks (my skin scratches and abrades much easier now). I get cold easily now… not good for an ice climber. Over time, my hormone levels will stabilize and things will calm down, but there are major fluctuations. By increasing my estrogen, I get morning sickness. My ability to go “all out” in a workout fluctuates inconsistently. Overall, I’m happy with the changes and excited to experience life in a way that matches who I really am. I’ll adapt just as every other woman has. The great thing about climbing is it’s one of the few sports/ activities where women are on the exact same level of performance as men. Your size, strength, and gender are equalized by the different features of rock and ice routes. Psychologically, not totally sure yet. I’m more confident and comfortable seeing the real me. In the past, I was always uncomfortable when people congratulated me or tried to compliment me on my climbing achievements. They were giving

credit for what I did to a character I had to play. I also constantly questioned myself in these encounters, wondering if they would feel the same about me if they knew the real me? Now, they do and they either accept me or they don’t, but they see ME! The me I have always been. I feel like climbing is more positive than it has been for me. I realized that I had started to use climbing and other projects to keep me distracted from addressing my issues. I’d get pretty upset and angry if I couldn’t climb. I’ve since realized that I wasn’t enjoying climbing as much during that time of my life. It was just a distraction. Now I feel like I have that balance again: the love to climb just to climb and to be out in the mountains or desert with friends, enjoying life.

BRINGING YOUR PHOTOGRAPHY AND CLIMBING EXPERTISE TOGETHER, YOU HAVE WRITTEN SEVERAL GUIDEBOOKS. HOW HAVE THESE GUIDEBOOKS ALLOWED YOU TO EXPRESS YOUR CREATIVITY AND CONNECT WITH OTHERS? Creating and publishing books combines many of the things I love. I’ve always loved books and history. I combine that with my love of climbing and the outdoors, merge with my writing, photography, graphic design, and illustration, and the results are climbing guidebooks that convey my talents and love.

YOU HAVE BEEN OPEN ABOUT YOUR STRUGGLE WITH DEPRESSION BEFORE COMING OUT AS TRANS. DO YOU HAVE ANY ADVICE FOR OTHERS STRUGGLING WITH THEIR MENTAL HEALTH? Know that you are not alone. Our society doesn’t like to talk about mental health, but almost everyone could benefit from therapy. It’s okay to ask for help or to need help. Make sure to set time aside for yourself to see a therapist. It can make a huge difference.

THERE IS A LOT OF WORK TO BE DONE IN THE OUTDOOR COMMUNITY TO CREATE A MORE INCLUSIVE SPACE. OVER THE PAST FEW YEARS, YOU HAVE STEPPED UP AS AN ADVOCATE FOR THE LGBTQIA+ COMMUNITY. WHAT RESOURCES WOULD YOU RECOMMEND TO SOMEONE STRUGGLING TO FEEL LIKE THEY FIT IN IN THE OUTDOOR COMMUNITY? There are a lot of affinity groups in climbing and the outdoors now: Native Women’s Wilderness, Outdoor Afro, Latino Outdoors, Brown Girls Climb, Brothers of Climbing, Queer Climbers Coalition, just to name a few. They are creating space for those who haven’t traditionally seen themselves. Look for these and so many others in your area and join their activities. There are so many more folks out there than you might think.

DO YOU HAVE ANY PROJECTS OR GOALS GOING INTO THE NEW YEAR THAT YOU ARE EXCITED ABOUT? I’m excited to continue to try to create programming that helps build visible leaders in the outdoors. I’ve also just been accepted into a Masters of Social Work program at the University of Utah. I’ll continue working in the outdoors, but I want to be able to do more for my community and I feel like Social Work can help me achieve that.

poetry in motion BY JABARI S. JONES, they/them

snow therapy everything that matters right now is speaking to me and telling me to slow down my therapist my overworked kidneys pumping cortisol like oil wells in Texas fields my hippocampus murmuring memories to itself

the snow is especially direct in its instructions: fall down fall slower slower quiet now be quiet be still

Photo by Charlotte Harris | @gnar_lotte

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MAGAZINE

BEYOND LAND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS BY LACE LAWRENCE, she/her | @lacelaya

AS CONSUMERS AND OUTDOOR ENTHUSIASTS, we love Native design, often because of the connection Native art has to nature. However, the outdoor industry has a history of using corporate wordplay, like “Native Inspired,” to dupe well-meaning consumers into purchasing and promoting unethical goods. So how do non-native people support their love for this art in ethical and culturally appropriate ways? We have curated a starting place for finding Native-owned brands to support and engage with. Use your dollars as power and your fashion as conversation starters. And yes, anyone, including nonnatives can wear, support, or enjoy these products. urbannativeera.com While Hollywood and pop culture would have you believe that Native Americans still live in the rocky deserts and deep woods, a growing majority of Native Americans are considered Urban Natives, living in large urban areas. This is in part due to the Indian Relocation Act of 1956, which was described by the Bureau of Indian Affairs as “essentially a one-way ticket from rural to urban poverty.” This Government-funded attempt at assimilation left deep economic and psychological wounds on Indigenous communities and stole vast amounts of Native American-owned land. However, out of this, Indigenous peoples rose up and formed powerful intertribal communities that have been at the forefront of Indigenous movements. Urban Native Era

Joey Montoya (Lipan Apache), Founder of Urban Native Era, based in Los Angeles, was drawn to the term Urban Native and how it captured his upbringing in San Francisco and the social movements he was seeing in his communities. His brand started as an artistic movement to bring awareness to Indigenous-led social movements from Hawai’i to Canada and grew into a brand where everyone can increase the visibility of Indigenous movements. From socks to shirts and hats emblazoned with the line “You Are On Native Land,” the Urban Native Era brand is designed to be worn by everyone. “Indigenous folks are not the only folks

Photos courtesy of Urban Native Era

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MAGAZINE

Based in Denver, Eastwoods produces hard goods and apparel for outdoor adventures. Eastwoods goods display Indigenous art and are designed for paddlers, hikers, campers, mountain bikers, yogis, boarders, and adventurers. Over the next few months, the Eastwoods brand will be transitioning to Native American-designed home goods for adventurers to bring Native art to their home or to level up your van life decor. Christian describes the direction of his brand as organically Indigenous, saying “Everything I do is Indigenous because I’m Indigenous.” Eastwoods goods are designed to serve as both great products and as tools to enable people who are not from the Native community to learn about woodland people whose territories lie east of the Mississippi. Christian further describes the brand as “not exclusive to Shinnecock people, woodland people, brown people, or Native people—we make products for humans.” who need to educate people… by wearing it, you’re taking on that responsibility to spread the word,” Joey Montoya said. Whether you are in a city park or National Park, you are on Native Land. By wearing Urban Native Era products, you can participate in a deeper understanding of the lands we live and recreate on. The Urban Native Era brand continues to support Indigenous-led social movements and Joey is currently working with Tribes and Indigenous people to rebrand, reclaim, and rename our National Parks.

Eastwoods also gives back to the Shinnecock Indian Nation by supporting the revival of the paddling culture through the donation of canoes, paddles, personal flotation devices, and canoe race support. They also support Native Women’s Wilderness and Big City Mountaineers. Photo courtesy of Eastwoods

Eastwoods eastwoodsbrand.com

Growing up in New Jersey, Christian Weaver (Shinnecock), Founder of Eastwoods, was raised by a father who instilled a love for outdoor adventure in his children. Christian grew into an outdoor enthusiast who wanted to create a clothing company that reflected a love for the outdoors and celebrated the art of Eastern Woodland design. Native American artists have historically only had three avenues to sell and promote their work—galleries, non-Native owned companies, and local community events—all of which are unsustainable, reduce the power of the artist, and rarely lead to long-term success. Platforms like Eastwoods provide a new and exciting option to create ethical products that support Native art.

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MAGAZINE

Photo by Emilia Wronski | @ emiliajw

Eighth Generation

eighthgeneration.com

Eighth Generation was founded by Louie Going (Nooksack) who was raised in a multiracial household by his grandparents. As an adult, Louie went into education where he was honored by the National Indian Education Association with the gift of a Pendleton wool blanket. Wool blanket exchanges are a longheld tradition in many tribes, given to individuals at major life events such as weddings, graduations, honoring ceremonies, and funerals. Louie realized that the blanket he had been honored with was in fact owned by non-Natives with appropriated designs. From that realization, Eighth Generation has grown into the first Native-owned company in the world to produce wool blankets. Their tag line “Inspired Natives, Not Native Inspired” is in direct response to the harm that “Nativeinspired” products have caused Indigenous peoples. “Our art is who we are and where we come from,” Serene Lawrence (Anishinaabe, Hopi), Chief Operating Officer of Eighth Generation, said when discussing the passion behind the Eighth Generation brand.

Eighth Generation has been at the forefront of changing the path for entrepreneurship for Indigenous artists since 2008. Based in Seattle and now owned by the Snoqualmie Tribe, Eighth Generation has supported more than 50 Native Artists collaborations in the United States and Canada. They operate a unique brand model that works with Native Artists to focus their art on creating products for all consumers. This model has promoted Native Artists like Sarah Howes (Anishinaabe) of Heart Berry, who started out selling beaded earrings to her friends and grew into the owner of a six-figure company, and launched artist Bethany Yellowtail of B. Yellowtail onto the pages of Vogue. As a Native-owned company, Eighth Generation is dedicated to preserving our natural resources, sacred spaces, and water protection. Indigenous peoples have been the caretakers of land and resources since time immemorial and Eighth Generation uses their platform to inform government and corporate decision making. Eighth Generation is also currently working with retailer REI on their product impact standards and commitment to racial equity.

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MAGAZINE

THE SWEDES KNOW BY SAMANTHA ROMANOWSKI, she/her | @smilingsamantha

SWEDEN, NORWAY, AND DENMARK frequently top the list of the world’s happiest countries. Some of us may think it’s the free health care, bike commuting, and minimalist lifestyle (you’ve heard of Swedish death cleaning, right?), but it’s actually their underlying cultural and social philosophies that encourage joy, contentment, and experience over productivity and climbing the career (or social) ladder. These Scandinavian countries organize their social systems around certain philosophies which promote the mental and physical well-being of the individual and of the community. If you want to foster a healthy, balanced, and positive outlook on life, like the Swedes, Norwegians, and Danes, here are five practices that you can incorporate into your life that don’t involve a trip to IKEA.

But First, Coffee

There is a Swedish term “fika paus,” which roughly translates to “coffee break.” Apparently, in Sweden they schedule their work around these coffee breaks because time socializing with co-workers is fun? They also like to include a sweet treat when taking this fika paus because what’s better than coffee? Well IMHO, coffee and a donut. This social ritual is a time meant to be enjoyed, away from work, in the company of people you like. Pandemic or not, working from home or back at the office, it doesn’t matter. Breaks are important for our physical body (hello sitting for hours at a time!) and mental health. Prioritizing socializing (especially during “working hours”) can help with that golden goose we’re all searching for: work-life balance.

That Van Life

Considering you’re reading a magazine for folx who enjoy the outdoors, I don’t think you’ll have a problem with this one. “Friluftsliv” is Norwegian for “open-air living.” So technically you don’t have to travel by van, or camp in a van, to incorporate this practice into your life. However and wherever you get outside, spending time in nature is a time-tested practice for reducing stress and increasing joy. Whether it’s a bluebird day on the slopes, a beach bonfire with friends, or a week of backpacking, taking the opportunity to reconnect with nature can help us get in touch with something outside of our own (apartment-sized) bubble. But I’m pretty sure you knew that already.

WHAT YOU NEEDS Be a Lark

Are you a morning person? Yeah, I wasn’t either until I got a dog. But hey, at least he helps me with my gokotta. “Gokotta” is the Swedish philosophy of waking early to listen to the birds sing. You don’t have to be one of those productivity hackers who gets up at 5 a.m. to get a start on the day, but rising a little earlier in the morning and taking a few moments outside can set the tenor of your day in a positive way. Beyond the obvious reason of having more time in the day to get things done, getting some sunlight first thing in the morning helps with your circadian rhythm. Bonus points if you take a walk while listening to the birds—the gentle movement gets your blood flowing and can increase your energy.

Hygge. Need I Say More?

All the rage way back in 2018, hygge is the Danish concept of celebrating coziness and rest during the winter. Scandinavia is pretty dang cold and dark during the winter, so they needed something to look forward to. But no matter where you live, settling into the energy of the season is a way of aligning yourself with the cycles of nature. Our culture doesn’t often encourage time for rest, but during the winter months, that’s what nature is doing. We can, and should, do it too. When we give ourselves the downtime to rest and reset, we can prepare for the energy surges of spring and summer. Humans

need time to recalibrate, just like plants and animals. You might as well do it in fuzzy socks with a mug of something warm and delicious. Allowing the space in your life for enjoyable rest gives you an opportunity to slow down, focus inward, and find the joy that’s abundant in your life.

Find that Libra Balance

My life philosophy used to be “everything in moderation.” Little did I know, but I was practicing “lagom,” the Swedish and Norwegian concept that means “just the right amount.” The right amount of food, sleep, exercise, work, and all the other things can lead us to that ultimate place of work-life balance. The U.S. is a culture of extremes. It’s challenging to find that balance in a society that places such high value on productivity and output. But when we’re focused on external conditions like achievement and accomplishment without regard to our internal needs (like rest, care, and love), we inevitably end up burnt out and unhappy. Deep down, you know that too much of something (even a good thing) can become bad, like too much chocolate can make you sick (sad face). So take it from the Scandinavians and figure out what your “right amount” of work, sleep, socializing, and exercise is; then try to practice it daily and know that some days will be easier than others. Finding more happiness in life is an ongoing practice and these Scandinavian philosophies are simply ideas that might help make a year like 2021 a little more bearable. So here is your permission slip to blow off work and go outside. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a fika paus to get to.

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MAGAZINE

Pin Ups:

A Search for Role Models in a White Man’s World

A book review by ALI WINES, she/her | @ali_wines

or anyone who listens to or takes part in conversations about the outdoors, one thing is abundantly clear at the moment: our insatiable appetite for stories of allconquering white men, accomplishing unimaginable feats through bravery, athleticism, grit, and privilege by the shovel-full, is flagging. There is instead a hunger for stories of authenticity, stories of struggle. Not the struggle to cross a harrowing alpine spine as avalanches tumble below, but the more relatable, human struggles that all of us encounter not just in the outdoors, but in life. Yi Shun Lai’s book Pin Ups feeds this hunger. Written in Lai’s breezy, accessible style, the book traces her search for belonging from a privileged suburban upbringing with her Taiwanese first-generation family, to the college boyfriends from whom she sought legitimacy in the outdoors, to discovering adventure racing as an adult. Like a good trail, Pin Ups takes the reader on a meandering journey, where each twist in the path brings a new vista—by turns funny, fascinating, raw, and confronting. Along the way, it explores topics of gender, race, fear, and validation as it seeks an answer to the question: What is it to be a role model? Pin Ups is not a story of heroism and derringdo. It is instead a meditation on a different kind of bravery, that required to continuously search for community, for friendship, for a sense of self; to no longer feel like an outsider. Lai finds the human in all of us that is forever searching for belonging, and in doing so, welcomes us into her world. You can find Pin Ups at REI or by calling your local bookstore.

>> A NOTE ABOUT THE REVIEWER Ali Wines is an Australian writer now based in Toronto, Canada. She has a particular focus on and interest in the outdoors and environmental issues. She is a member of the Canadian Ski Patrol and works actively with Protect Our Winters Canada.

Sometimes we are blessed with being able to choose the time, and the arena, and the manner of our

REVOLUTION, but more usually, we must do battle

WHERE WE ARE STANDING.

Audre Lorde

A self-described Black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet.

1934-1992 57

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COLL ABOR ATIVE PL AYLIST

MTN

TOP Tunes dedicated to the snow 36 songs,

2 hr 19 min

Family

Blood Orange, Janet Mock

Negro Swan