viva la difference

By: Pat Steele (2006)

I’m glad chicks surf.

My wife has been surfing for 37 years. For the longest time, she was the only female surfing my local break. Even up to 15 years ago, Betty would be the only girl out on cold winter days. Now that surfing is popular, the biggest demographic jump in surfing has been with female surfers. Quicksilver’s clothing line ROXY has been a goldmine and female surfers are now charging places like Teahupo’o, Pipeline, and Mavericks.

Writing an article on female surfers can be intimidating. I have the utmost respect (fear?) for women. I come from a matriarchal family; both of my grandfathers were dead before I was 2 years old. My Irish grandmother, from the Old Country, was capable of giving you a crack across the side of your head at any time for no apparent reason. Later, when her hip went bad, she was armed with a cane. She was like a martial artist in the jab, thrust and swat. Throw in the fact that I was taught by the Roman Catholic nuns for my first eight years of school and respect doesn’t seem to be an adequate word.

One incident has been burned indelibly into my psyche. My fourth grade teacher, Sister Theresa Maria, was determined to teach me some self-discipline. I couldn’t stop making wise cracks in school, so I would have an hour of detention after school almost everyday. One particular afternoon my partner in crime, Mitch Modeleski, and I, were cleaning the chalkboards when Sister Theresa Maria left the classroom. I was lost in a daydreaming trance, when an eraser hit me in the back of the head, thrown allegedly by one Mitch Modeleski. I responded in kind. He ducked just as Sister entered the room. The eraser hit her square in the face with a resounding POP! and a small cloud of chalk dust obscured her face. This is where time went into a surreal slow motion. Slowly the dust cleared from around Sister’s face and you could see a white rectangle from the eraser diagonally starting on her left eyebrow going across the bridge of her nose and on to her right cheek. Her eyes were glazed with shock. This is where time went from slow to fast forward.

I ran.

As I sprinted to the bike rack to retrieve my bike, I went over the possibilities: Lifetime detention? Suspension? Expulsion? Excommunication? Burning in hell for eternity? It was too scary to ponder. I pedaled furiously for the only way out of the schoolyard: a narrow driveway. Through the windows of the school I could see Sister running down the halls to cut off my escape. This was not a petite woman, but she was flying. I was within 30 feet of freedom when she corralled me. It was too much; I broke down into uncontrollable wailing and sobbing. Sister Theresa Maria, to her credit, knew that I was scared witless and she calmed me down. “Patrick, we will discuss this incident tomorrow, go home now.” She never brought it up again and I was deeply grateful.

Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! I seem to have gone off on a tangent. I’ll save those stories for my therapist. Where was I? Ah, yes, women surfing.

I have been out in the water numerous times when the intensity is absurd with snaking, jockeying and vibing that eventually leads to a verbal exchange– and sometimes violence. A female surfer enters the mix and things calm down. There is less profanity and posturing. If a girl is attractive, some surfers even lose their concentration. Being a happily married man (oxymoron?), I am more than willing to take advantage of their distraction. Female surfers seem to have a more lighthearted approach to surfing, enjoying the whole experience of being in the water. Men have a tendency to concentrate on performance. (Not now Dr. Freud, we’ll talk about it later.) Women have different tactics for getting waves.

One time out in the water, a woman politely asked me for a wave that was rightfully mine. I couldn’t say no to such sweetness. After the third time, I realized I was being played. I politely said, "sorry but I’m going." Men don’t have a monopoly on attitude. A female surfer who regularly surfed where I did was as aggressive as any guy. Most sessions she would let someone know she wasn’t happy with them. One time she called out a big, macho man challenging him to go to the beach. He quietly studied her for awhile, then responded, “I don’t fight girls, but if you want to bring your boyfriend around, I’ll gladly kick his ass.” Another session she was getting particularly perturbed with one of the bullies in the lineup. She also challenged him to take it to the beach. He responded with the ‘B’ word. She dove off her board and swam towards him. He whipped his board around and paddled away with her swimming after him. Needless to say, the rest of us in the lineup were cracking up. I think it’s a fair statement to say men and women think differently.

My wife has no idea how rocker, concave, nose and tail width or thickness impact a surfboard. Her criteria is simple; her board needs to be 6’ 8”, fit comfortably under her arm, have a pointed nose and a nice color. I once complimented my wife on a nice barrel she got. My compliment deteriorated into a debate whether it was a barrel or not. Now most guys would have taken the compliment and embellished it into something it wasn’t. I was now being chastised for the validity of my compliment. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a barrel, maybe it was a cover-up. I don’t know anymore, I was trying to make you feel better. How the hell did this turn into a bad thing?

I was at a party and a friend’s wife told me she had reached a milestone. She doesn’t blame her husband anymore when he tells her to go for a wave and it doesn’t work out. I can relate to that one. When you say “Go” to your partner, you are now responsible for that wave and any of the waves behind it. God forbid if she gets caught inside. Your best bet is to strangle yourself with your leash before she paddles back.

When Betty and I lived in Mexico our surfing differences were very obvious. Where we lived, we hardly ever saw other surfers. The two breaks by our house were a right and a left. The left had a soft takeoff and a fun inside section. The right was a reef/point setup like Swamis. The right was far superior to the left. My wife and I are both goofy. My wife chose the left over the right even though she is adept on her backhand. So there we were all by ourselves, but surfing different breaks. We could see each other but neither one of us would leave their spot. Occasionally I would start on the left so we could surf together, but as soon as I saw an unridden set coming through on the right I would paddle over. It was also in Mexico that Betty got a great compliment from a visiting surfer. The surf was big and the two visitors were debating if it was too big. When they saw Betty waxing up, one of them challenged the other with, “You mean a girl is going to go out and your not?” He responded with “Betty’s not a girl.” Is it a sexist compliment to say a girl surfs like a guy?

One of my favorite things about chicks surfing is the fact they can’t bring any of their weapons into the water. They can’t wear makeup, high heels, nylons, jewelry or mousse. Basically they are unarmed. I hate to say it, but you can hide behind that stuff. I like to see the real deal. I love the fact that in surfing you’re put in humiliating positions. It’s impossible to do a face plant with grace. It’s hard to be a poser in the water. It warms my heart to see young girls walking to the beach with boards under their arms. I picture them escaping the constant societal pressure of what a woman is now. For a few hours they will be distracted from their weight, boys, parent’s expectations and all the other garbage. Isn’t that the reason we all look forward to paddling out?

I have three granddaughters; I’m looking forward to the day we can surf together. Viva la Difference. Peace.

Editors Note: All the Steele girls now love to surf, especially with Pat and Betty.

BACK TO ARTICLES PAGE