Longboarding in China: Injury symbolism

Longboarding in China: Injury symbolism

By Juliette Gautron

In the longboard community, injuries are common, and a recurring topic of conversation amongst friends, often used as a symbol or as a lesson for others. This article is based on fieldwork I did with Shanghainese longboard crews in 2018 and 2019. I use data collected from my training sessions both in longboard dancing and freestyle, and downhill longboarding, with three different groups. L.B.S. (Longboard Space 长板空间) crew from the Yangpu district (longboard dancing & freestyle, and downhill), FDU RUSH group from Fudan University (longboard dancing & freestyle), and the Atomic Krew (生话 or AK) (downhill). In this article, I explore the meaning of injuries in the longboarding communities of Shanghai and the set of behaviours and symbols attached to them.

To begin, I wish to make a side-note about my position during this fieldwork. In regards to longboarding and injuries, I find it particularly hard to detach myself from this topic and remain objective, as I am deeply involved in the events and conversations I describe and analyse below. By reflecting upon the topic of injuries and physical well-being in longboarding, I realise how deeply biased I am, as I have strong feelings and beliefs about pain and injuries, and I realise that I am at risk of using my own assumptions as “objective truth”.

I first wish to address common misconceptions longboarders are often faced with. From an external perspective, injuries are often considered as the symbol of the irresponsibility and madness of the riders. For some people, those injuries are sometimes ‘deserved’, because longboarding is seen as a dangerous sport without rules. Yet, most longboarding groups, especially in downhill longboarding, have an important set of rules and codes of conduct which must be followed to ensure the safety of all riders. I was told by a friend that they no longer went on trips with a particular rider, as he broke the code of conduct by refusing to wear a helmet or protective gear, by lending inadequate types of boards to beginners, and by bringing beginners on roads which were too steep for them to handle safely.

The Atomic Krew is a good example of how safety protocols can be put in place during every session, sharply contrasting with the idea that many people have of downhill longboarding. Before each trip, one person was in charge of making sure that every participant had an insurance covering extreme sports like downhill longboarding, and collected emergency phone numbers from each member. One could not participate if one did not own or borrow safety gear, the minimum being a helmet (full-face helmet for experienced riders), knee pads, elbow pads, and downhill leather gloves. Two emergency kits were also stored in the van in case of an emergency. At the beginning of each riding day, Tom was in charge of “the safety talk” which re-states the code of conduct: always carry a fully-charged phone with you even when riding, never ride on the left side of the road, slow down before turns, only pass someone when you have good visibility in front of you, clap in your hands if you see a car in front or behind you in order to warn the next rider, check for cars behind you frequently, always give way to cars behind you even if it means having to stop, only ride at a speed that you can handle, be cautious at all times, keep 7 meters of safety distance between riders, etc. There were also a set of gestures to learn in order to communicate without speaking with the riders behind you (eg. slow down, be careful, go ahead). This “safety talk” had a ritual importance and was taken extremely seriously by everyone. Tom, in charge of delivering the safety talk, would ask for everyone to focus and would not start speaking until everyone was silent and giving him their full attention, including experienced members who had heard this talk a hundred times. Even if all members of the group were fluent in both English and Chinese, he would deliver the safety talk in both languages, if not also in French for some French native speakers. The end of the safety talk signified the right to start riding. The above examples illustrate the responsibility that each individual carried in downhill longboarding and how safety and security was emphasised at every training session in order to minimise injuries.

Although safety and security rules are put in place, injuries are frequent in longboarding. Yet, two categories are important to keep in mind, classifying injuries in order to better understand the set of behaviours and symbols associated with getting hurt: Traumatic injuries require immediate attention and sometimes hospitalisation. These are not only a physical trauma for the body, but tend to result in a psychological trauma as well. Physical damage, on the other hand, does not require immediate hospitalisation. In longboard dancing and freestyle, traumatic injuries are quite rare although still present (eg. dislocated elbows, teared ligaments, broken meniscus), and physical damage is the most common types of injury (ranging from a twisted ankle to bleeding wounds and big bruises). On the other hand, in downhill longboarding, which most of this article focuses on, both categories of injuries are present. Traumatic injuries can range from broken bones to very serious open wounds, and physical damage ranges from twisted ankles to burnt skin, bleeding wounds and big bruises.

When traumatic injuries occur, they are taken extremely seriously and acted upon with great urgency. The injured person is brought to the nearest local hospital to be treated, and anxiety is present until that person is under medical care. Traumatic injuries are very rarely joked about, or even spoken about. They are only mentioned to serve as a reminder for everyone to be cautious. The stories of these injuries are used as a deterrent for beginners, or as a way to teach a lesson. For example, the story of Lee was the first injury story Tom told me when I joined AK:

It was nearly sunset, and the road was dark. He was the first rider and I was following him. We arrived at a turn where there was a mirror, and I could clearly see the lights of the car coming in front of us. I slowed down and nearly stopped, that was the reasonable thing to do. But Lee kept going and crashed into the car. He broke his foot and leg in pieces, it was really ugly to see. We brought him to the local hospital because it couldn’t wait to drive back to Shanghai. Later, I asked him what happened. And he said that he had seen the car perfectly, but thought that he could dodge it and keep going. He was the best in the crew, and that day he was a bit too confident.

Interestingly, the moment chosen to tell me this story was after a very good run, where my speed was very high and I had shared that I was feeling fairly confident. The story was used to remind me that an excess of confidence is often the prime cause for accidents in downhill longboarding. Later, as we discussed the riding abilities of a new crew member who lacked skills to control his board and did not listen to our advice, Tom told me another story illustrating the potentially dangerous behaviour.

There was a new guy who came with us, Jake, but he would not be able to control his slides. He always ended up crashing on the sides of the road. He was wearing a GoPro, and I told him to look at the video, to understand that he was unable to control his trajectories. But he didn’t listen, and at one point he did a slide and ended up crashing into a huge rock. He was going so fast that his arms didn’t stop him: he broke his arms and his face crashed into the rock. He wasn’t wearing a full-face helmet, so his face was severely damaged. His lips were completely cut in half, his nose was broken and there was a lot of blood. I seriously thought he was going to die. He never questioned his skills and didn’t listen to us.

Once again, this story of a serious injury was used as a way to teach a lesson about a particular behaviour, which often was in contradiction with the code of conduct. The story of a girl, Maya, was another striking example.

You see, this turn, here, at the bottom of “Cow Shit” track? Well this girl Maya was a pretty good buttboarder [going down by sitting on the board], and she was going really fast. A bit too fast for her first time, if you want my opinion. Anyway, at this turn, she lost control and crashed into the safety railing. She wasn’t wearing shin pads and broke both of her shins. That was 6 months ago, and she’s still recovering.

The telling of Maya’s story took place just after a heated conversation with buttboarders who did not bring shin pads, although they were mandatory items for buttboarding in the code of conduct. These stories are not only a way to teach a lesson, but also a way of proving that by listening to more experienced riders, and following the code of conduct, most injuries can be avoided.

I never had a bad accident. Call me lucky, but I’m always pretty careful. I know my own limits.

Traumatic injuries were taken very seriously, but when the scars that remained were more psychological than physical, opinions became divided and a more critical atmosphere emerged within the crew. In the case of Lee, his behaviour changed after his accident. When he started longboarding again, although he was still one of the best riders of the crew, he was no longer the first rider (most dangerous position) and no longer rode if it was raining, or if the ground was wet. Through a few conversations with Anthony, Tom and Ben, I could discern a sense of disappointment that Lee had given up his position of leader. Later, Lee refused to come on an exploration trip (type of trip that was craved for, which required strong longboard skills) due to the chance of rain; the crew was left with too few people to make an exploration trip possible, leaving no other choice but to cancel, and plan a trip where beginners were allowed. In this situation, four out of five crew members manifested their disappointment by letting out a small comment about Lee’s unwillingness to ride in the rain. Here, the psychological sequels of an injury marked a turn in the rider’s behaviour. Although his accident was not joked about, his change in behaviour was noticed and frowned upon, especially when it interfered with other riders’ plans.

Physical damage is often ignored during a session and taken care of in one’s own time. Indeed, one would rather ride and enjoy the session rather than worry about a small injury which does not fully incapacitate one’s body. It is seen as superfluous for a rider or for the crew to worry about small injuries when much worse could happen; one’s attention should rather be directed towards more important thoughts such as concentrating on the next runs. Physical damage, as opposed to traumatic injuries, does not serve the purpose of teaching a lesson, does not bear the same gravity and importance, and is rather perceived as “collateral damage”, as well as a logical consequence of dedication to longboarding. When teaching a new beginner, we often explained that injuries were inevitable. However, the degree to which one is injured is within the rider’s control. Small road rashes, other superficial wounds and bruises are inescapable when learning new skills in downhill longboarding, and one should not be scared of this physical damage. Small but visible injuries, such as small road rashes are often seen as a symbol of the sport. When not too severe, these almost have a positive connotation. Instead of being the symbol of a wrong behaviour, physical damage symbolises trying hard and learning: “Bleeding is learning”.

In longboard dancing, although most longboarders wear long-legged trousers to protect their skin, they have a collection of scars on their lower legs, which are the symbol of their hard work. They are visible marks which are a proof of hours of training. During a session with FDU RUSH, I noticed a beginner girl who was very determined and very passionate about the sport. She had failed a few tricks and her board had tackled her ankles a few times. Bruises were appearing on both her ankles along with a tiny open wound on her right ankle. As we spoke about injuries, she told me “I finally got my first skate wound. I’m actually quite proud of it”. In her words I recognised my own feeling when I received my first “skate wound” the same way she did, which was a deep cut on my ankle due to the carbon fibre of my board, that hours of training had sharpened like a knife. I also recognised in her words a certain pride that riders experience when they are asked about their scars. By dealing with pain with pride, longboarders use physical damage as a symbol of their sport, as a way to differentiate themselves from beginners and to show commitment and belonging to the community.

By categorising injuries into two groups (traumatic injuries and physical damage), two different sets of behaviours and symbols emerge. On the one hand, traumatic injuries are taken very seriously, rarely spoken about and are used as stories to influence and correct at-risk behaviours. On the other hand, physical damage has a positive connotation which highlight one’s hard-work and dedication. Dealing with the pain of a small injury is also a way through which one can prove one’s commitment to longboarding and shows belonging to the group. As opposed to the general public’s point of view that longboarders’ visible injuries are the symbol of their lack of rules, at-risk and irresponsible behaviours, I argue that these types of physical damage are worn with pride and showcase the longboarder’s consistent training within a strict framework of rules and codes of conduct, whether spoken or unspoken.