Don’t get me wrong, my “pussy posse” and I don’t hate men. I’ve had my fair share of dealings with some complete assholes of the male species, both in the surf and in relationships, but in general my inner circle features some incredible blokes. They screen test all my potential dates and hate overpowering male crowds in the lineup just as much as I do. To them I devote this piece.
As I was running out the door to host yet another Vday charity event raising funds for survivors of domestic violence, my housemate asked me a question: “what exactly IS a feminist?”
“Well,” I began, “it’s different for every woman…” Then I launched into my personal explanation of female empowerment. “Women should be encouraged to be high achievers,” I told her. “They should be supported in balanced child-raising, given equal opportunities–not forced to conceal their identities, and should never be intimidated by the genetic differences with men, a.k.a through violence. Oh, and we should be able to hang and surf with the boys without presumption (albeit from other women) that we’re sleeping with all of them.
Our differing definitions of “pumping” are humorous at best, but I’ll definitely throw my hands up and claim the past few weeks have produced many mornings of freaking good swell; Aussie Autumns seem to do no wrong. The crisp westerlies blowing through my bedroom windows at dawn alert that there could be something magic happening down the coast; group texts from my “boys” inspire me to kick back the sheets and leave the warmth of my bed. We shuffle out of neighbouring houses in hoodies and Ugg boots pooling into one car, then creep down our rural lane eagerly anticipating what the ocean will reveal at first light.
Hermann Broch said:
Those who live by the sea can hardly form a single thought of which the sea would not be part.
This rings true for our crew, particularly so on mornings like these. We select our bank, suit up excitedly, and paddle out just as the golden light approaches. Slip sliding in turn, just us, my brothers calling me into my share; these are the days we live for.
At session’s end, it’s all about a toasty cup of chai and breakfast at the local surf club while we gather around a sunny patch of concrete overlooking the break, commending ourselves on a morning well worth waking up for. Back home, the boys tend to everything from kids, chickens, maintenance and prepping dinner for their ladies and adopted sister, me. Cheers lads, you guys set the bar…as it should be.
*Note: Heads up to any of my future potential dates, the boys like Friday arvo beers, secret southern slabs (extra points if you’ve got photographic evidence), and you’ll need to refine your definition of “pumping”.
The boys. Photo: Angie Takanami
