Skating up a storm with Mel Warner

Words and images by Alex Hallifax.

Mel runs Onboard Skate’s all girl’s skateboard sessions with Erni and Jess in Wellington, which is where I met her. She was kind, cool and patiently held my hand for what felt like half an hour as I tried to skate off a wooden block. I later bumped into her at Spacesuit, a second-hand clothing store here in Wellington. After learning that she was also doing environmental studies, I felt that I had to talk to her. There’s nothing like a chick with a board to get me excited, and sometimes it feels like there aren’t so many of those chicks around. Who cares if you’re shit or no longer a teenager, have a read about Mel, and maybe you’ll be inspired to grab a board and give it a go - just for you.

It’s been three and a half years since I started skating. When I left college, I only knew how to push on a skateboard, but I went to Cash Converters and bought the shittest $90 board. I worked full time at the local orthodontist, but I needed something for myself. I was going through some shit. I was really depressed. I enjoyed my work, but after work, I didn’t have any friends I wanted to reach out to, and I didn’t have any hobbies. None of my high school friends wanted to do the things that I wanted to do. I realised that I didn’t have to hang out with them if I wasn’t going to enjoy it. I’d always tried to skate in primary school, but every time I held a board or tried to leave my house, I felt that it wasn’t meant for me. Finally, I thought, ‘it’s time’. 

It was a real boys club. I used to only skate if there was nobody else at the park or I was with my boyfriend, Cullum. One day I realised I had to stop worrying about what other people were thinking. Most of the time, when I roll up, I’m going through all these emotions in my head and my heart, but I tell myself, ‘fuck, just skate’. It’s my own perception. All this shit bubbles up. But it’s cool because you learn how to cope with it, and it translates into other aspects of my social life and work. My therapist has taught me that I won’t be able to get rid of feeling self-conscious, but I can learn how to deal with it.

I’ve been teaching with Onboard for two years now. I went down to the skate park in Lower Hutt one time and met Bailey. She was so excited to see me skating, “Omg, there’s another girl”. She was running the Kilbirnie sessions at the time. She told me to come along and maybe get a job out of it. I went to the session, and Steve saw that I was confident at skating and told me I should teach. One thing led to another, and I got a contract. In the last year or so, he’s started to step back and let us girls run the sessions. 

I wish I had this when I was younger. It’s really heart-warming to have parents tell me that I’m a role model to their children, that their daughter looks forward to this every weekend. We’ve got kids that would never play a sport at school, but they love to come here and skate. It all ties into my mental health, having people outside of my bubble, giving me that sense of approval. It makes me think that maybe I am on the right path, and maybe I can start to appreciate myself too. I can see that what we’re doing is important. I was thinking about moving to Melbourne before the virus, but I feel like I’ve got unfinished business; it’s my baby. These girls come here, and they’re so excited to show me everything. When they land something, they can’t wait to show their parents.

Some girls don’t even need my hand; they just want me to stand there. Knowing that I’ll be there to correct or catch them makes them feel confident enough to do it. Skating is so scary, and some of these girls only come once a month. Every time they come, they’ve got to reset from the beginning, but they still love it just as much as they did the last time. When you come back, and you have to reset, you’re asking, where’s the reward? But when you get it again, you’re rewarded. There are so many endorphins. My goal is to stay positive and realise that I don’t need to see it as a competition or that I’m not good enough if I can’t do something.