By now, you know the story: Having festered in the dark ages for decades, suffocated by its own bro-eyness, skating has, finally, started catching up with the rest of the world, and includes more and more gay, lesbian, and trans skaters. I’m hesitant to call it a sea change, as there’s still plenty to do, but where once only Tim Von Werne and Jarrett Berry stood, we’ve now got Leo Baker, Brian Anderson, Elissa Steamer, Hillary Thompson, and Forrest Kirby, to name just a few of the notables.
Given that every LGBTQ+ person that stands up to be counted inspires countless others to do the same, we thought it was time to take stock and to celebrate that skateboarding has reached something of a tipping point over the last few years in terms of queer visibility. With that in mind, for this issue, we hit up a bunch of different people, from pros to filmers, magazine heads and self-identified skate rats, and asked them to write about their coming out experiences: the good, the bad and the extremely ugly.
The stories that follow are heartwarming, horrifying and fascinating. All of them linked by a universal truth: terrifying as it is, no one ever regrets coming out.
By Patrick Welch
Photo by Alex Foley
Published in June 2019
Mark Nickels
Mark Nickels is a filmer, originally from Washington D.C. but now based in Berlin.
For me, there wasn’t just one thing that led me out to come out. I really did it in three phases between the ages of 17 to 25, and the best way to describe it was like walking into a cold lake: instead of jumping in right away, I tortured myself slowly, centimetre by centimetre because I wanted to ‘get use to it’. It was way more painful than it should have been, but it was my journey to take; no one else’s.
When I started to question my sexuality at 17, I felt like being gay and being a skateboarder clashed in every way possible, even though both were quite punk rock at the time. I started skating I was 13 and it was my everything. I was a skateboarder before I was gay, so in my head, skateboarding won hands down. My dad was in the military and that was the mentality I learned growing up. It was black or white/ A or B/ this or that; there was no middle ground, or so I thought.
In spite of how open skateboarders are supposed be, I had only heard horror stories about anyone LGBTQ+ in skateboarding in the late 90’s. It was not the most inviting environment, or so I thought. When I moved to California, I made the decision to keep my private life and skate life separate.
In the end though, I didn’t have the chance to come out on my own terms like some other skaters did. I was outed in the summer of 2002 while on a demo tour in the US. I remember exactly where it was at: an Applebees in State College, Pennsylvania (near Woodward) during the dinner rush. One of the skaters had a few drinks during dinner, then yells across the table in a full restaurant, ‘Hey yo, Mark, I heard you’re big fuckin’ faggot. What the fuck’s up with that’? Another skater or two sitting next to him started chiming in as well, adding some more fuel to the fire. My world stopped at that moment and I went numb. It was my doomsday scenario, but it was 1000 times worse than I thought it would ever be, and we were on tour. Talk about being complicated…
While I was in a daze, four skaters sitting next to me jumped up to my defence. To this day, I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked them for it. Not knowing what to do, I just got up and walked out of the restaurant while people were still yelling at the table. When I got outside, I just burst into tears in the corner of the parking lot.
A few minutes later, some of the guys came to check on me and made sure I was okay. They apologised for what the other skater did & reassured me that I had absolutely nothing to worry about. It was comforting to hear, but in my head, the damage was done. I finally got dunked in the water and it was time to deal with things head on. I think I ended up leaving the tour the next day and went to see my parents, who lived a few hours away. I had no idea what was in store for me once I got back to SoCal, but being young and dramatic, I remember starting to plan for my life after skateboarding.
A few months later, I went on another demo tour again with the skater who outed me. Everything was actually fine, but we weren’t popping bottles at the club after the demos together. Thinking back about it now, I really don’t know his intentions were as malicious as I’d once thought. But being a scared kid in the closet, it felt like the end of the world as I knew it.
It wasn’t, though. Coming out was, in fact, much easier than I thought, once the closet doors were ripped off for me. My dad got diagnosed with cancer not too long after I was outed and that was my absolute “no more fucks to give” moment. I’ve never looked back. Our time on this planet is short and you have to be happy in your own skin. If someone can’t deal with how fabulous you are, it’s their fuckin’ loss. Your true friends will love you for you, not who you are trying to be. It took a series of life-changing events for me to learn this first hand.
The best advice I ever got was, ask for help when you need it. I saw a therapist quite often when I lived in California and it helped me, especially after I was outed. If you can’t afford a therapist, talk to your squirrel friends and get things out. Our friends are there for us, especially in times of need. What I once thought was my personal doomsday turned into being just another Thursday – once I got some perceptive on it.
Finding my way in the LGBTQ+ community has such a fun journey and is still constantly evolving. There’s so much history and culture in front of you and the spectrum of people you meet from all walks of life is amazing. Art, music, literature, film, theatre, fashion… you can’t find an area the pink mafia hasn’t made its mark in. Under the LGBTQIA+ rainbow, there’s also every type of subculture you could ever want. Sometimes I feel it’s easier to find your tribe in our world, compared to our heterosexual friends. Plus… you might get laid a bit more too!
At the end of the day, I think my longevity in skateboarding proves the point no one cared about my sexuality. It was always about who I was as a person and how much I loved skateboarding.
Follow Mark @marknickels
