Pretty Strong for a Girl

What Steph Davis taught me about bouldering bros, d-bag dirtbags, and being a woman
By Georgie Abel

You’ll hear them before you can see them. Loud grunts, hollering, and screams of raw physical power characterize their kind and alert you to their close proximity. Listen closely for the cheers from the pack to gauge how many of them you’re dealing with. Once a rare occurrence to come in contact with these creatures this thick in the forest, now even the casual day hiker must be prepared for a sighting. Make them aware of your presence and avoid sudden movements as this can trigger a monster-energy-drink-induced high five fest. Once you hear a few shouts of COME ON DUDE or F-YEAH FLASH THAT SHIT or START THE SEND TRAIN then you can be positive:

You have come in contact with a group of bouldering bros.

After a long week, I’m excited to head out to Mortar Rock, one of the local climbing spots in Berkeley. I walk up to the boulder and see a guy with tattoos dangling from the top as he tries to get his feet back on. He eventually gives up and falls onto a crash pad.

“Hey guys,” I say. They all turn around and say hi back. I look up at the sun, noticing the bands of orange light filtering through the trees. “Great day to climb, isn’t it?” They all agree. I put down my gear and ask them about the problem they’re working on.

“It’s a v6 dyno. But there’s some easier stuff down the hill,” the tatted-up stranger tells me. His friend with a mustache says, “Yeah, there’s an awesome v2 you should get on. It’s really delicate and balance-y.” I can barely hear them over the wompwompwomp of the dubstep coming from their iHome.

There are about seven other guys, lounging around on crash pads and drinking Budlight. The one with overdeveloped lats and biceps bigger than my thigh sets up a tripod and aims the video camera at the boulder. They’re all shirtless.

I contemplate making an announcement that I’ve been here before, that I practically grew up on this rock, that the v6 they’re working on is actually a v3 if they use that jug, and that I’m slightly nauseous from what I assume to be mass amounts of Axe body spray in the air. Or maybe it’s from the dubstep.

I want to question them. If it wasn’t me, a woman (with a flowery tank top, braided hair and a Luna bar in hand), but instead it was a guy who walked up on their bro bouldering sesh that day, would they have suggested an easier climb to him?

I realize that saying all of that won’t change them so I take their advice and go down the hill to Indian Rock where hopefully I can climb without someone assuming that I should probably stick to “delicate” routes just because I have a pair of boobies.

For me, my identity as a woman has never been a part of my identity as a climber. I just love climbing and that’s the end of it. The rock I’m trying to get my ass up doesn’t care if I’m a man or a woman or a mountain goat, so why should I care?

Other people care though. For a while, I considered that maybe I was just overreacting and being sensitive. The yogi in me kept saying, Georgie, it’s all in your head, these guys aren’t being condescending, they’re just trying to help you. But the semi-feminist side of me who’s a fan of Alanis Morisette and the 19th amendment said, These assholes are judging you as a climber because you’re a woman.

I think it’s a mix of both. If I go into a situation thinking, these guys are going to judge me, then I usually feel judged. But honestly, it isn’t rare for some guy I don’t know at the gym to tell me what hold to grab next, where my body weight should be, how I should probably flag out my left foot, how he’s totally gonna steal my “girl beta” for that climb.

And then when I hear, you’re pretty strong for a girl, it pretty much solidifies the fact that all this judgmental gender stuff isn’t in my head. It’s actually happening.

Steph Davis: climber, base jumper, main reason why I started climbing so often. I remember watching a video of her free solo The Diamond when I was younger, in awe, because of her bravery and confidence, but more because of her obvious passion for climbing. I wanted to love climbing half as much as she loved climbing. I wanted to love anything half as much as she loved climbing. I decided to get on the rocks more often, and not too surprisingly, I ended up falling in love.

Recently, that passion has been challenged, because of the culture that’s starting to develop in the climbing world. And it’s not just the bouldering bros, the dirt bag d-bags, the Pretty Lights bumping in the background of every single climbing video. It’s the fights over who got the first ascent, it’s the nah man that’s not a v14, the bro-ed out conversation in the middle of a gorgeous forest, the drama of who is sleeping with who, the degradation of what used to be a really awesome community. It’s the you’re pretty strong for a girl.

As I walked down the hill that day, the persistent beat of their music growing more faint, I wondered how I should feel. Furious? Irritated? Should I march back up there and throw tampons all over their little bro circle? Or should I just laugh and brush it off? I decided not to do any of those things. Instead, I just climbed. That’s it. I even climbed that delicate, balance-y v2. And it was fun.

I feel like that’s what Steph Davis would have done. So that made me happy.

I reminded myself that I love this sport way more than I don’t love all the bullshit that comes with it. To get at the level she is at now, I’m sure Steph has had to remind herself of that a million times. Maybe even every day.

It comes down to loving what you’re doing. There is a dark, unauthentic-feeling side to everything. The question is if your passion can overcome that. Mostly, it’s a choice, and sometimes we need a reminder. I appreciate all of the things that have kept me on the rock. Because damnit, I’m in love climbing, madly in love, with every part of who I am–ladyparts included.

Join Georgie Abel and Steph Davis in Moab for a yoga adventure like no other!!!