Commercially speaking, surfing has taken the world by storm. There have never been more people interested in and talking about surfing worldwide. Surfing receives more worldwide attention now arguably than it has ever in its history, a prime example being its first-time inclusion in the upcoming Olympics. Another example is the rapid rise of wave pools popping up all across the globe. The questions that the quick rise of surfing globally leads to are: why is this happening now, what is the result of this in changing and or creating surf culture, and how does this affect the average surfer?
In the broadest sense, this is the journalistic mission of The Wavelength. To document, and question every aspect of surfing and surf culture to better understand why surfing has become such a global phenomenon.
The second mission of The Wavelength is more personal– my critique of surfing culture. Growing up 30 minutes from the beach, I was always an outsider at spots like Topanga where the people who were catching all the waves seemingly all knew each other. While much of surf journalism, magazines, commercials, and surf competitions make it seem like surfers are a peaceful group who just chase waves, ask anybody who has surfed Topanga, Steamer Lane, Malibu, input your own spot on a busy day– the feelings in the water are anything but peaceful. The history of surfing will show the ways in which this “feeling” is far beyond just a feeling. This is not a case of just a few bad apples– the dominant variant of surf culture we see and are enmeshed in today has very strong ties to white nationalism and even nazism.
It will take a community to reimagine what surfing in a communal sense should and could mean. The dominant surf media has perfected its depiction of the surfer and the wave– what remains obscure and ambiguous is what a line-up without hostility and selfishness would look like.
The Wavelength 