Seattle Group Hijabi Skaters Helps Muslim Girls Learn to Skateboard and Build Community

It's a Saturday evening in August. Asmaa Bah, 20, and her friend Seline pull a wagon with a handful of skateboards, along with pads and helmets, up to one side of the Seattle Center Skate Plaza.

On the other side of the skate park is a typical scene: Guys sit at the top of the bowl while others try to land tricks as a stereo plays Motown tunes.

Bah and Seline start setting up back on their side. There's no one there, which is perfect.

Hijabi Skaters is holding a drop-in session tonight. Bah started the group in an attempt to build a community of Muslim girls who skate.

"When I would go skateboarding, I was the only Muslim girl with a hijab skating, and as much as I made a lot of friends who understood me and everything, I just thought it would be cool to see more Muslim girls out there," Bah said.

The skate sessions are informal and free, open to any Muslim-identifying girls, and are usually held at All Together Skatepark in Fremont. But today, they're in the shadow of the Space Needle.

For the first 20 minutes or so, no one shows up. Seline does a few runs on the ramp.

"There are days where we just have one or two, but, at the end of the day, it's — we're there for anyone and everyone who wants to be there," Bah said.

But then a woman in a hijab appears, carrying a skateboard and pads, with her daughter by her side. Bah recognizes Fareeha Azeem: Azeem had reached out about when there'd be another Hijabi Skaters session, which is what prompted Bah to organize this gathering.

About eight months ago, Azeem started bringing her 8-year-old daughter, Heba, to another skating group, Skate Like a Girl, which is where she met Bah.

"When I brought her [the] first time to Skate Like a Girl," Azeem said, "the people over there were so nice, like, the reason why she wanted to come again."

Learning How to Fly

Unlike Heba, Bah didn't find community and Skate Like a Girl immediately.

Bah started skating during the pandemic and was inspired by the sport's inclusion in the Olympics to give it a try.

"I was watching Sky Brown do all these cool vert-air tricks, and I was just like, 'Oh, my God, that's so cool.' Like, I want to be able to fly and do all that," Bah said.

But her parents, from Guinea in West Africa, weren't enthralled with their daughter taking part in such a dangerous sport, let alone any sport. And as Bah puts it, they have pretty traditional values.

"To them, girls aren't really supposed to be playing sports, or they're kind of supposed to be like, you know, homebodies, like, very relaxed, poise — and I'm like, the complete opposite," Bah said. 

At that point, Bah was in high school and ready to embrace a little rebellion to explore this newfound interest.

"I was like, 'You know what? I'm gonna go buy myself a skateboard without telling my parents and start skating,'" Bah said. "I hid it from them for like a year, and I was just learning on my own."

Bah's mom eventually found out, and despite being scared for her daughter, agreed to keep it hidden from her dad, who also learned about her secret hobby.

Bah said that even now, her dad doesn't know how much she's into skateboarding.

Going into her senior year at Garfield High School, Bah signed up to do a summer internship and one of the places with openings was the nonprofit Skate Like a Girl.

"I was just like, 'Oh, my God, it's meant to be,'" Bah said.

Before that, Bah was going to her local skate parks and teaching herself.

"I don't mind being alone because I was learning and I was like, falling, getting hurt, but people at the skate parks were nice and helpful. But at the time, I didn't really have any friends who skated," Bah, currently a student at the University of Washington, said.

Community is what Skate Like a Girl provided. The nonprofit's mission is to create an inclusive environment in the skating world for women and trans/nonbinary folks.

"They're not like, competitive, it's more vibes," Bah said. "And I really like that because I think skateboarding, most of the time, people think it's like, 'Oh, you have to be good to be a skater.' But no, I think it's more about the community and just learning at your own pace."

Creating Space for 'Dropping In'

Back at Seattle Center, Heba practices with the guidance of Bah. The park is across from the Skate Like a Girl offices, where Bah grabbed the extra skate gear for the session. The organization has supported Hijabi Skaters since Bah started it a year ago.

Heba's mother, Azeem, credits Skate Like a Girl for creating such a positive and warm environment, but notes the importance of having something like Hijabi Skaters.

"So she can see women who are practicing Islam, and that they can also do everything," Azeem said. "It feels more relatable, and I want her to connect to our community."

Growing up in Pakistan, Azeem had traditional parents who weren't so open to her interests in athletic activities.

"I've gone through that resistance — not doing martial arts at that time, and I wanted to do it," Azeem said. "But then, when I'm a parent, because I've been through it, I know how important and beneficial it was for me. I am like, 'If you want to do it, I want you to do it.'"

Bah works with Heba one-on-one for the next couple of hours. Another skater joins the group, and Selene works with her on dropping in: starting at the top of a ramp and going down it. The pair practice over and over, sometimes falling, but always getting back up.

"Heba is not really that talkative, but when her mom tells me how helpful it is and how even her mom is happy to see a program like this exist, it's very rewarding, because I can see my vision come to life," Bah said.

The group decides to relocate from the empty side of the park to where all the serious skaters are. Bah reassures the girls that the other side has a better ramp for them to practice dropping in and that they'll be there to support them.

Bah and Selene knew a few of the more experienced skaters who sat at the top of the ramp watching the students work on dropping in. Each time, they holler in support and tap their boards on the ground, a skater's way of clapping.

At the moment, Hijabi Skaters isn't a full-time thing for Bah. But Bah has a dream of opening her own skate park one day, a place where women skaters, particularly women and girls of color, can come and feel seen and be in community with each other.

"I think it was much harder for me to start skateboarding because of so many cultural norms and pressures that are placed on women," Bah said. "I want to create a space for not just Muslim women, but any other culture or societies that have these pressures placed on women."

In the meantime, she's finishing her degree and looking after her three younger siblings. But despite everything, Bah is dedicated to the sport, which has become a community.

"I love to help people. I like to be there for people, and if I can do it in a way with the thing that I love to do, then that's awesome," Bah said.