Malibu Narrative
by Carla Rowland
A mutt. That is what they call it: a mutt. When it comes to my cultural and ethnic background I am your typical Anglo-Saxon. My ancestors are from all over Europe- Ireland, Italy, France, and England, even Portugal, yet not one of these bloodlines is more dominant than the other- hence the term mutt. Unlike many of my Latin American and African American acquaintances, I have an extremely difficult time relating to and identifying with any of my family’s cultures. I do not feel like I can accurately consider myself “an Italian” or “an Irishwoman,” as some of my more culturally defined friends are able to do. I am not a wandering soul looking for a place to fit in; however, I have found my place and it lies in the sea. I am a surfer- that is who I am and it is through this unlikely group of people that I have developed a strong sense of self and a passion that has not only given me direction, but offered me insight into myself and those I interact with.
I spent the first 10 years of my life living in the San Fernando Valley, but every weekend that I can remember my family drove north on the 101, through Malibu Canyon, where we would finally end up at the famous First Point at Malibu Surfrider Beach- the mecca for California’s rich surf history. As my dad spent the days riding waves and my mom snapped photos, I would walk up and down the beach with my own surfboard under my arm- a 3’ long wood plank I had found on the shoreline washed in by the sea. I would watch my dad and wait for him to come in, but for whatever reason, it was like pulling teeth whenever he would try to get me out on his board with him. Yet, when I did, I always had the time of my life. As luck would have it, in 1987, my dad found a small, affordable canyon home in the hills of Malibu. Despite the fact that the move was not that logistically far, at the age of 10, my entire world slowly began changed.
You would think that my move to Malibu would instantly turn me into the quintessential beach/surfer babe, but for the first five years, quite the opposite happened. It seemed that I had the notion that since I now lived in Malibu, I no longer needed to actually go to the beach- it was right there- I could see it everyday. This theory of mine held strong until I got into high school, when I was forced to attend school in Agoura Hills because Malibu had not yet created a high school. As a young teenager, I did not have much to identify with. Much of my childhood was spent having “friend issues”- whether it be silly friend triangles or girls gossiping- I always felt like “the one left out.” In junior high I was a part of a dance troupe with some girlfriends. When I became the “favorite” and asked to do all the solos, my friends began alienating me. At 13, I just wanted acceptance among my peers, so after 10 years of dance, I decided to quit. From that moment I began a habit of seeking out shallow friendships and attempted to use them as a foundation to my identity, instead of seeking out my own dreams and aspirations and allowing the friendships to build from there. Needless to say, this method was extremely flawed and it took some time, as well as some pain, for me to actually realize it and put myself on the right path.
It was the end of my sophomore year and I had spent the last semester affiliating myself with a group of people who were not a positive influence in my life. After much thought, I decided that I needed to make a change in order to protect my life’s future. So, at 16 years old, I removed myself from the situation I had become comfortable, yet unhappy, in and began going back to First Point Malibu, where I would wait for my dad to arrive after he finished working. That first summer I was so insecure that I refused to paddle out until my father was there to go with me. I had no friends my own age. In fact, the only friends I did have that summer of ‘93 were all over the age of 45- Cary, Steve, and Judy. If it were not for their support and friendships, I do not believe I would have been able to endure the change.
Time passed. Summers came and went and as time progressed, so did life for me on the sand and in the sea at Malibu Surfrider Beach. As hoped, I got better and better at surfing and it became something I realized that I could never live without. I eventually made my way into the “cool,” younger crowd that frequented the point. This group consisted of mostly pre- and post-pubescent boys, as surfing was (and still is) very much a male-dominated sport. For a couple years, I was one of the few women seen in the lineup in the water on a regular basis- not to mention the youngest- and this definitely had an impact on the person I was to become. This clan of nomadic surfers, I discovered, was a culture in and of itself with rules, rewards, and punishments. I endured years of battling to hold my ground and earn my right in the testosterone-filled lineup. Being a woman, I was not just discriminated against, but also required to prove myself on a regular basis. There were rock wars, wrestling matches, I was “pantsed” in front of crowds, called names, lied about, “snaked” on waves, I was even told that my place in the hierarchy that possessed the point was on the same level as the “groms”- the kids. No matter how beaten up I would feel, no matter how low they would bring me- I would have to remind myself that I could never give up, I would never let them push me off my beach, they could never take away surfing from me. I let that happen once with dancing, I was not going to make that mistake again. Time and time again, I felt defeated or alone, but through the struggle I discovered the importance of perseverance and holding true to one’s core values, morals, and dreams. Those times where I stood my ground may have imposed moments of alienation; however, in the long run, I have discovered those moments have garnered me more respect than anything else.
I have not only managed to hold my own in this male-dominated sport, but have also found many creative outlets and varying means of success, as well as developed much of who I am through surfing. Perhaps you can say this experienced has made me calloused- I think it has made me stronger, wiser, and more enlightened to the world around me. There were definitely times where I questioned my place among this micro-culture, but if not for this dynamic group of people, perhaps I would have never found my own identity. Fortunately, the lack of a specific macro-culture to relate and identify with has been replaced by another kind of contextual culture- the surfing culture.
With its own system of assumptions, attitudes, and learned patterns; the surfing society is also a dynamic, socially and co-constructed, symbolic, and historically transmitted culture- similar to that of the societies of my more culturally-defined friends. On the contrary, the one thing I think surfing has that other typically defined cultures may lack is the ultimate inclusion of all races, ethnicities, and cultures into the sport and lifestyle. Surfers are some of the most diverse people on the planet comprised of Blacks, Latinos, Asians, Filipinos, Homosexuals, Catholics, Jews, Mormons, Agnostics, some are wealthy, and others are poor. It is the love of surfing and the exclusive bond surfers share with the sea that gives them a unique connection far more grand than your average hobby or sport. This society of surfers that I have grown to know so well, are a perfect example of the postmodernist perspective of social constructionism. The concept surfers have of their socially assembled reality emphasizes the constant mass construction of worldviews by people in dialectical relations with one another. A surfer’s reality is formed through habits, which in turn, become institutions. These institutions are supported by language conventions, afforded continuing legitimacy by mythology, religion and philosophy, maintained through socialization, and individually internalized by their upbringing.
Surfing has taken me all around the world and given me the opportunity to see and learn about other cultures. Through my travels to destinations containing societies far different than my own- such as Costa Rica, Mainland Mexico, Australia, and Japan- I have seen first-hand the factors pertaining to perceived cultural differences, as well as the universal truths that bind us together as a human race. Difference in language use, cultural codes, formal and informal rules, relationships and roles, traditional foods, and/or gestures remind us of our individuality and background and can often create confusion and, in turn, fear and hate. Yet, the thoughts and feelings of love and heartache, acceptance and rejection, joy and sorrow- emotions felt by all cultures- do not discriminate. Surfing has not only afforded me a culture to identify with and shaped the person I am, but it has also given me the sensitivity to understand other cultures and how and why they act and react the way they do.
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