A chick surfing while black

Amongst a sea of white faces that I know

Their bodies black with neoprene

They look oddly at the one who wears a black face too

Musing “she does not swim, nor does she float”

A contemptuous glare forms the ism in their minds

Much like the ism that pulsates throughout the land today

Racing to a wave already claimed by me

Leaving behind the torrid squalor of the city works

I find my voice loud and clear, I got it!

A hard, laconic fight for what is mine

They do not know me

Meanwhile in absentia

The black faces I know look oddly at me too

My body cloaked in neoprene black

My nappy roots recoil more with every splash

A black mermaid with power mystique?

Or a lost sista on a slippery wet slope?

The magnetic spiral roll of the waves

Opens the heart to the majestic source

Urgently tasting the sweet, salty surge

Of the mother who loves us all

They do not know her

So I venture out alone on this magical blue green trip

That feeds my soul serene

Like food and air

A baptismal sacrament they have not shared

To embrace a chick surfing while black

Then they will know me…

By sharon schaffer

Note-As the first African American female professional surfer, this poem was on display for 9 months in 2010–2011 at the California African American Museum in an exhibit entitled “HOW WE ROLL” highlighting cultural influences in surfing, skateboarding & rollerskating.