Tracing the roots: surfing’s African heritage
Long before surfing became synonymous with the beaches of Hawaii or the sun-soaked shores of California, the sport had deep roots in Africa. Historical evidence suggests that the art of riding waves was practiced along the western coast of Africa, particularly in regions now known as Senegal, Ghana, and Angola. Here, coastal communities engaged in wave-riding activities that were not only recreational but also deeply spiritual, reflecting a harmonious relationship with the ocean.
In these African societies, the ocean was revered as a powerful force, a source of life, sustenance, and spiritual energy. Wave-riding was more than just a pastime; it was a way to connect with the natural world, to honour the sea, and to demonstrate skill and courage. Early accounts from European explorers and traders describe African fishermen and villagers using wooden planks or canoes to ride the waves, often with remarkable agility and grace.
These early forms of surfing were deeply embedded in the cultural fabric of these coastal communities. The ocean was seen as a living entity, and riding its waves was a way to engage with its spirit. This connection to the sea was passed down through generations, with wave-riding becoming a rite of passage for many young men and women. It was a practice that fostered a sense of belonging, identity, and respect for the natural world.
However, much of this rich history has been overshadowed by the dominant narrative that positions surfing as a sport with Polynesian origins. While the contributions of Hawaiian and other Pacific Islander cultures to modern surfing are undeniable, the African roots of the sport have often been overlooked or forgotten. This erasure has contributed to the perception of surfing as a predominantly white, Western activity, disconnected from its diverse and ancient origins.
As new research and documentaries begin to shed light on the African heritage of surfing, there is a growing recognition of the sport’s global and multicultural history. By acknowledging the African origins of wave-riding, we can begin to appreciate the broader, more inclusive story of surfing, one that spans continents and centuries.
Cultural erasure and the rise of modern surfing
The rise of modern surfing, particularly in the 20th century, coincided with a period of cultural erasure that saw the African roots of the sport largely forgotten. As surfing gained popularity in the West, especially in places like California and Australia, the narrative around the sport became increasingly whitewashed. The image of the quintessential surfer—blonde-haired, tanned, and carefree—became the dominant representation, leaving little room for the diverse origins of the sport to be acknowledged.
This erasure was not accidental. As colonial powers expanded their influence across Africa and other parts of the world, they often dismissed or devalued indigenous practices, including wave-riding. The African communities that had long engaged with the ocean in spiritual and recreational ways were either displaced or forced to abandon their traditions under colonial rule. The result was a gradual disappearance of African wave-riding from the global consciousness, replaced by a narrative that centred on the Pacific Islands, particularly Hawaii, as the birthplace of surfing.
While Hawaiian surfers like Duke Kahanamoku played a pivotal role in popularising the sport internationally, the African contributions were largely ignored. This was compounded by the fact that, as surfing became commercialised in the mid-20th century, it was marketed almost exclusively to white audiences. Surf culture, as it developed in places like the United States and Australia, became synonymous with a particular lifestyle—one that was often exclusionary and inaccessible to people of colour.
In Australia, the rise of surf culture in the 1960s and 70s mirrored this trend. Surfing became a symbol of freedom, rebellion, and connection to nature, but it was also deeply tied to a predominantly white, middle-class identity. The beaches, which had long been places of cultural exchange and community for Indigenous Australians, were increasingly dominated by this new, Westernised version of surf culture. Indigenous and African-descended surfers were often marginalised, their presence on the waves seen as an anomaly rather than a continuation of a long-standing tradition.
As a result, the African and Indigenous histories of surfing were pushed to the margins, overshadowed by the rise of a commercialised, Western-centric version of the sport. This erasure not only distorted the true origins of surfing but also contributed to the exclusion of Black and Indigenous surfers from the mainstream surf community. For decades, surfing was seen as a sport for white men, with little recognition of the diverse cultures that had shaped its development.
However, in recent years, there has been a growing movement to reclaim these lost histories and challenge the dominant narrative of surfing. Documentaries, academic research, and grassroots organisations are working to highlight the African and Indigenous contributions to the sport, offering a more inclusive and accurate portrayal of surfing’s global heritage. This shift is not just about correcting the historical record; it is also about creating space for Black and Indigenous surfers to reconnect with the ocean and reclaim their rightful place in the surf community.
Reclaiming the waves: Black surfers and spiritual revival
In recent years, a powerful movement has emerged within Black communities around the world, particularly in places like the United States, South Africa, and Australia, to reclaim surfing as a spiritual and cultural practice. For many Black surfers, the ocean represents more than just a place for recreation—it is a space for healing, empowerment, and reconnection with ancestral traditions. This resurgence is not only about riding waves but also about reclaiming a sense of identity and belonging that was lost through centuries of colonialism and cultural erasure.
For Black surfers, the act of getting on a board and paddling out into the ocean is often a deeply spiritual experience. Many describe it as a way to reconnect with their ancestors, who once rode the waves along the coasts of Africa. The ocean, with its vastness and power, serves as a reminder of the resilience and strength of their forebears. In this way, surfing becomes a form of resistance—a way to push back against the historical forces that sought to sever their connection to the sea.
In Australia, this movement is gaining momentum as more Black and Indigenous surfers take to the waves, challenging the predominantly white surf culture that has long dominated the country’s beaches. For many, surfing is a way to reclaim their relationship with the land and sea, which have been central to Indigenous cultures for millennia. The ocean, once a place of cultural exchange and sustenance, is being reimagined as a space for healing and empowerment for communities that have been historically marginalised.
Grassroots organisations and surf collectives are playing a crucial role in this revival. Groups like the Black Girls Surf and the Indigenous Surfing Program in Australia are creating safe spaces for Black and Indigenous surfers to learn, grow, and connect with one another. These initiatives are not just about teaching people how to surf; they are about fostering a sense of community and belonging, where surfers of colour can feel seen, heard, and valued.
For many Black surfers, the ocean also serves as a metaphor for life’s challenges. The unpredictability of the waves mirrors the struggles they face in a world that often marginalises their voices and experiences. Yet, by learning to navigate the ocean’s currents, they find strength and resilience. As one Black surfer put it, “The ocean doesn’t care about your race, your gender, or your background. It’s a place where you can be free, where you can find yourself.”
This spiritual revival is also about reclaiming the narrative of surfing itself. By acknowledging the African origins of the sport and the deep connection that Black communities have to the ocean, surfers are challenging the dominant, whitewashed version of surf culture. They are rewriting the story of surfing to include the voices and experiences of those who have been historically excluded, creating a more inclusive and diverse surf community.
As this movement continues to grow, it is inspiring a new generation of surfers to see the ocean not just as a playground, but as a place of healing, empowerment, and spiritual connection. For Black surfers, reclaiming the waves is about more than just riding the ocean’s swells—it is about reclaiming their history, their culture, and their rightful place in the world of surfing.
Rediscovering the roots: surfing’s African heritage
When you think of surfing, your mind probably drifts to the sun-soaked beaches of Hawaii or Australia. But what if I told you that the roots of surfing stretch much further back, all the way to the shores of West Africa? Yep, long before it became a global phenomenon, surfing was already a thing in places like Senegal and Ghana. African fishermen were riding waves on wooden planks, not for sport, but as part of their daily lives. It wasn’t just about catching fish—it was about connecting with the ocean in a way that was spiritual, practical, and, let’s be honest, pretty damn cool.
In fact, historians have found evidence that wave-riding in Africa dates back centuries. Fishermen would paddle out on their boards, not just to navigate the waters, but to ride the waves back to shore. It was a skill passed down through generations, a way of life that was deeply intertwined with the rhythms of the sea. And while the modern surf scene has often been dominated by images of bronzed, blonde-haired dudes, the truth is, the sport’s origins are far more diverse.
But here’s the kicker—when European colonisers arrived, they didn’t just take land and resources; they also erased cultural practices, including surfing. The African connection to the waves was largely forgotten, buried under centuries of colonialism and the rise of Western surf culture. It’s only now, thanks to new research and documentaries, that we’re starting to rediscover this rich history. And let’s face it, it’s about time we gave credit where it’s due.
So next time you’re out there waiting for the perfect set, remember: the ocean’s been calling people to ride its waves for a lot longer than you might think. And some of the earliest surfers? They were African.
A cultural resurgence: Black surfers reclaiming the waves
Fast forward to today, and there’s a powerful movement happening in the surf world. Black surfers are reclaiming their place in the lineup, not just as athletes, but as torchbearers of a cultural legacy that runs deep. It’s not just about catching waves—it’s about reconnecting with a history that was almost lost to time. And let’s be real, it’s about showing the world that surfing isn’t just for the stereotypical beach bum with sun-bleached hair.
Across the globe, from the shores of California to the beaches of South Africa, Black surfers are making waves—literally and figuratively. They’re forming communities, creating spaces where they can share their love for the ocean, and, most importantly, where they can feel seen. It’s a cultural resurgence that’s as much about identity as it is about sport. And it’s not just the pros—everyday surfers are getting in on the action, too.
Take groups like the Black Surfing Association in the U.S. or Surf Ghana, who are not only teaching people how to surf but also educating them about the African roots of the sport. These organisations are doing more than just handing out boards—they’re fostering a sense of belonging and pride. And let’s face it, there’s something pretty special about paddling out knowing that you’re part of a tradition that goes back centuries.
“It’s not just about riding waves; it’s about reclaiming our space in the water,” says one surfer from the Black Girls Surf collective. “For so long, we’ve been told that surfing isn’t for us. But the truth is, it’s always been ours.”
And it’s not just happening overseas. Right here in Australia, there’s a growing number of Indigenous surfers who are tapping into their own cultural connections to the ocean. For many, surfing is more than just a sport—it’s a way to honour their ancestors and their deep relationship with the sea. It’s a reminder that the ocean doesn’t belong to any one group of people. It’s a shared space, and everyone has a right to ride its waves.
So, next time you’re out there waiting for the perfect set, take a moment to appreciate the diversity in the lineup. The surf world is changing, and it’s about time. After all, the ocean doesn’t care what you look like—it just wants you to ride.