We were lucky to catch up with Claire Lee recently and have shared our conversation below.
Claire, appreciate you joining us today. Let’s jump right into how you came up with the idea?
Growing up, my mom loved to brag to anyone who would listen about how willing I was to try new things – and true to character, I became and remain a jack of all trades but a master of none. Part of it came from my parents being immigrants who didn’t have the time or resources to gather a bunch of hobbies and instilled a carpe diem, adventurous spirit in me. They let me try whatever I wanted, even if it was something they knew absolutely nothing about: including surfing and snowboarding. In college I finally completed the trifecta of board sports and picked up skateboarding, arguably the most formidable of the three. I was 19, and it was 2018. Surfing and snowboarding have geographical and financial barriers to entry, so skateboarders built the only wall they could – a social one. Nyjah Huston said it best: “I personally believe that skateboarding is not for girls at all. Not one bit.” I don’t suppose he could even begin to fathom trans and gender non-conforming skaters then, either. With those words, the absolute lack of media representation for what we call non-traditional skaters (non cis men), and my own fears and pre-conceived notions of what I was capable of hanging over my head, I taught myself to skate on the shitty cobblestone streets of Boston as a nearly grown woman – and did it alone. I had a lot of thoughts – that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks (I was 19), that there was this secret everyone knew that I wasn’t in on (not to mall grab – god forbid), that I was only one bad slam away from smashing my brains out (thanks mom), and only one rational one: that I wanted to feel that physical safeness I felt while skating, the wind and the inertia and the rhythm of my body, translated to emotional safeness. And I knew the best way I could do that was to bring power in numbers. It was an impulsive idea, and I truly thought I would just find a few new friends to skate with, but when we pieced our instagram together, got the word out, and held our first meet-up (with no water, no first aid, and no other real preparation to speak of) and 80+ people from all over New England showed up, I knew this was a question that needed answering. I was inspired by groups on the west coast that had existed forever – Skate like a Girl, GRLSwirl – but having grown up on both sides knew the east coast was different. The seasons, the infrastructure. We had a hardness that couldn’t be catered to the same way, and shouldn’t be. It really is all history from there.
As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?
I had a hard time connecting with people in college. I’m embarrassed to admit that because it paints a picture of me that I don’t think is accurate. I think what happened is I went into engineering, met a lot of people I thought were judging me for being kind of loose and colorful (and a pothead), and receded into myself a bit. In truth I was lonely, and when the pandemic hit I was not only even lonelier, but I started to see how lonely everyone else was. Not just because of the pandemic, but even before that. Everyone wants this closeness, but nobody knows where to find it or wants to take the risks necessary to get there. I was initially so hesitant to learn to skate alone because it was just so embarrassing, but as I made a fool of myself on the sidewalks and shared giggles with strangers walking by, I found it so much easier to look at them and see them as harmless, silly people like me. Living in a city makes you forget how to look strangers in the eye and not just let them blend into the background. That’s where our name comes from – being lonely, together. Our generation is so socially anxious and skateboarding is such a silly way to look stupid together, to be embarrassed together, and to take risks together. It puts everyone on kind of the same playing field and we can forget for a bit what we’re supposed to think or act like. That’s been the most beautiful part of LonelyBones – watching people approach each other so openly, with no expectations or defenses. It’s crazy how easily love will happen when people are gentle with themselves and with each other.
What most sets us apart, though, is the intersections we honor between skateboarding and other avenues for self expression, like art and music and style and creation. Our events and initiatives are all about self-expression and self discovery happening alongside other people, so we host local and BIPOC/LGBTQ businesses, artists, musicians, and organizations and help to bridge that gap that skateboarders have built over the years. The gap that makes skateboarding so scary and inaccessible to outsiders. That same gap that created the stigma that skateboarders are delinquents or criminals.
Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?
I had never been a community builder in this way before (at least not consciously, I think community has always been a pillar of my life in ways I didn’t realize) and I jumped into it without considering the toll it might take on me. Selfishly, I have to admit it’s a thankless, exhausting job at times. I understand now why many community builders become jaded or give up entirely. It sucks sometimes. Sometimes I’m burnt out, I feel creatively blocked, I feel lost. I’ve come to remind myself that we’re all looking for the same thing. When people treat me like an entity that lives to create events for their entertainment, I remind myself that they’re looking for fun and connection in their own way, and if I can continue to work hard in the ways I know how, then I can help them while staying true to the reasons I do this. I’m not responsible for people being unappreciative. There are lots of times when I wonder why I even care. It doesn’t matter, really, at all. Someone else would probably get it done if I gave up. Honestly as I type that I stare at the words and realize I don’t have much to dispute them with, because it’s true – I’m not that important. The only comfort I offer myself is that with this short time we have on earth, it seems so huge to me that we have a good time together. That people find each other, do good for each other, hear each other, and live freely together. That we do our best to be good. And creating a way for myself and for others to do that is really enough to keep me going even when it feels pointless.
Can you tell us about a time you’ve had to pivot?
I chose this question because I think I’m right there. At the pivot. My full-time job is as an engineer, which obviously provides a lot of stability in every way possible and funds LonelyBones, but I’m constantly questioning my happiness, whether I’m fulfilling my potential, and in general why the fuck I’m spending the majority of my time doing something that isn’t necessarily miserable, but is just “fine.” I’m a people person at heart. I like cute things, I like colors, I like whimsy. That isn’t really what people in the biotech industry are into – I think I was initially attracted to the idea of helping people (which is why I wanted to be a doctor for a long time, until I realized I selfishly did not want to spend my entire 20s in med school) but came to quickly realize that’s not really what this is about. I’m toying with the way I want to pivot right now, and it’s really something to be fumbling around in the dark like this. Some people tell me I can do both – that just because the people I work with don’t stimulate me in the ways I’ve encountered in more creative industries doesn’t mean I can’t also mind my own business and excel here, and then go do the fun stuff after work. I don’t know, to be honest, which way is better. To do one whole-heartedly or both half-heartedly, or both whole-heartedly somehow. I’ll let you know if/when I figure it out.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://lonelyboneskateco.com/
- Instagram: @lonelyboneskateco
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/company/lonelybones-skate-co/
Image Credits
Becca Brichacek, Claire Lee