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Peter Frick-Wright (Host): Hey everybody before we get started, this is my last week as the host of The �����ԹϺ��� Podcast. I’m moving on. Even though I love making this show and we had a whole season of stories lined up and ready to go.

 

Basically, there have been some seismic shifts at �����ԹϺ��� lately, and as part of those changes, the podcast is going to evolve. I’m handing the mic over to Paddy O’Connell, the producer for this week’s episode, who happens to be one of my favorite voices in the �����ԹϺ��� universe.

 

I am sad about this change—I was raised reading �����ԹϺ��� and getting the chance to launch and run a narrative storytelling podcast for my favorite magazine, and then leave to work on a different, massive project for two years, and then come BACK and host and produce this show with a budget that allowed us to do it right for the last 18 months… well, it’s all been a very challenging and stressful dream come true.

 

So I’m glad it’s PaddyO taking over. I can’t say exactly how things are going to change. But knowing Paddy, it will probably be pretty fun. So I’m leaving you in his big, goofy hands.

 

Thank you everyone who has listened over the years. I hope we can figure out a way to continue the conversation somewhere else.

 

This is the �����ԹϺ��� Podcast

 

Do you find yourself lacking humility? Too good at every new sport you pick up? Do people call you The Natural? Do people not call you that but deep down somewhere, you feel like they should? Do you recognize this as a problem—a sign of an inflated ego that you would like to uninflate in order to be a better person, but you just can’t seem to figure out how to do that?

 

If this is you, let me recommend surfing.

 

Surfing is a sport consisting entirely of movements you would never do in any other context, using muscles it is almost impossible to train in any other way. Recently I was reading a surfing memoir that flatly stated that if you didn’t learn this sport as a child, you’ll never achieve the kind of mind body connection you need to get truly proficient at it.

 

Notice that’s “proficient.” Not “great.” Not even “good.”

 

Unfortunately, I’ve seen this exact truth play out in my own life I have been surfing for 20 years. But if you watch me in the water, it looks like I have been surfing for about a week. It is, at times, my favorite sport. An explosion of reward when you catch a wave unlike almost anything else. It is, at times, the worst thing I have ever done—like when I get spin-cycled and come up puking, with an ice-cream headache. Sometimes, those extremes are just a few minutes apart.

 

Last year, director David Mesfin premiered the film Wade in the Water, about the history of black surfing. The film came out of David’s realization that the first written accounts of surfing in Africa predated the first written accounts of surfing in Hawaii by a hundred years, and nobody seemed to talk about this. But then, in the way that the best documentaries are about more than one thing, he also managed to make a movie that weaves together black surfing with black suffering, and black joy. And there’s a way in which, kind of like surfing itself, those extremes are interrelated. They can sometimes be found right next to each other.

 

And oh-by-the-way, David had never made a documentary before. This was his first film.

 

Producer Paddy O’Connell saw the film when it played at The �����ԹϺ��� Festival, in Denver, and wanted to know: How did David do that? You’ll hear from David first.

 

David Mesfin: I really had a hard time all the way building up to black lives matter. You know, the death toll of African Americans by police, and that. Being on the news day in day out,   Here's another black person that died. Here's another black person the next day It just went on and on and on and on and I think the tipping point for all of us, Even for me, was George Floyd

 

David: And there was a moment where my son asked me,  why are they killing us? He was 15 at the time.  And as a father, how do you answer that question?  You know, it was the hardest  answer. I couldn't answer it. You know, I was trying to justify things and I was trying to, you know, find solutions to what he's seen and the pain that he was going through, the pain I was going through.

 

Paddy O’Connell: At the time his son was asking these questions, David Mesfin was 47 years old, and decades into a successful career in advertising. Becoming a filmmaker was the last thing on his mind.

 

David: You know, it was the hardest  answer. I couldn't answer it. You know, I was trying to justify things and I was trying to, you know, find solutions to what he's seen and the pain that he was going through, the pain I was going through.

 

And I couldn't, I honestly couldn't. And I started digging deeper into  How do I answer that question and how do I move forward? I went back to  a place where I needed to heal from that. And I knew my community, this community that I knew in Southern California was going through the same turmoil.

 

And I really wanted to put a lens on their stories, I needed some ways of opening a conversation, and surfing made sense and that's when Wade in the Water very much started.

 

Paddy: Surfing may seem like a strange entry point from which to begin exploring racial suffering within the Black community, but to David, that was entirely the point. Surfing, as we’ll learn, was both a place of healing for David in particular, and a place of deep African American history. And what better way to tell the stories he found than through film? Nevermind that he’d never done anything like that before. So in 2020 David set out to become a documentary filmmaker, and three years later, Wade in the Water premiered. The film quickly became an audience and film festival favorite, for good ���𲹲��Dz�.��

 

David: It really digs deeper into the dark side of America and also the beautiful side of America and this amazing community of black surfers. It's a full variety of perspective grounded in different experiences, history, facts, and culture.

 

You're learning about, you know, a community that's forging what the future would be for the Black experience on the beach. And then you have the depth of complexity and Black excellence and also experience that goes a thousand years back. Yeah, 60 minutes, it's a lot to put in a film.

 

Paddy: From the moment the film begins, Wade In The Water captivated me. Through a mixture of surfing scenes, interviews, and historical context, the film artfully uncovers and celebrates the legacy of Black surfing excluded from our history books. It’s a moving examination of Black History and tribute to Black Joy, simultaneously painful and triumphant. The film’s success is, in many ways, a direct result of David's decades-long love affair with surfing. Which all started in the landlocked country of Ethiopia. 

 

David: I grew up during the late 80s in Ethiopia, and this is during the communist regime. And Ethiopia was going through a lot of turmoil at that point. We had a war up north and south, and we had just gone through a famine. And a lot of parents were trying to find the means to get their kids out. And my mother's half Greek, half Ethiopian. And I went to Greek school, spoke Greek.  I was working in the church  and a Greek priest came to donate money. For the famine, as he donated the money he realized that there's a Greek community  in Ethiopia, in Addis Ababa. And he offered to take a child and educate him in America. And from that, I was chosen

 

So I moved in St. Augustine, Florida. That's where he lived. And I always tell the story. He had a red car and it was a Fiero and I thought it was a Ferrari. I was  like, this is like the dopest priest.  And I didn't speak a lick of English when I came. So I was speaking to him in Greek and we arrived to where he lives, and he lives literally right on the beach, it's a condominium, and he's like, ok, we're home, and it's my first time seeing  the ocean in my life of 14 and there's waves, there's people surfing. That's my first experience of surfing was. And  I was just blown away with having this opportunity and life that's in front of me.

 

Paddy: St. Augustine is a small beach community on the Northeast coast of Florida. It's the US's oldest continuously occupied settlement of European and African American origin, founded 42 years prior to Jamestown. In the late 1980s, as a 14 year old immigrant, David walked amongst its Spanish Colonial architecture and on its warm beaches and felt a pull toward the ocean. But there was one small problem. 

 

David: I didn't know how to swim.

 

Paddy: David took swim lessons at the local YMCA. He also attended classes at the library to learn English. He took to both adeptly and, though still reeling from culture shock, he began to make friends who introduced him to American beach and surf culture. 

 

David: Eventually I picked up a boogie board  and then a shortboard.  And then there was two college students that had a longboard and I used to see them out there all the time. And the waves in St. Augustine are really small and they would go paddle out and I would watch them and they will catch every wave.

 

And I'm like, man, I got to try a longboard. So  I went to their apartment and I knocked on their door and I said, Hey, can I borrow you a longboard? I just want to try like, yeah, sure. Take it. And man, I fell in love with longboarding. I caught so many waves that day. So I would go knock on their door every other day and they Got so sick and tired of me. They're like, you know what, just keep it.  So I started longboarding and I've been longboarding ever since.

 

Paddy: David says that during high school the ocean became both his playground and his sanctuary. He'd surf to find community when he was feeling homesick. He'd surf when kids would make fun of his accent or call him racial slurs in school. But that didn't mean the beach was insulated from America's history of and still lingering racism. 

 

David eventually became a lifeguard, where he'd work alongside a dreadlocked Black surfer and musician he idolized, named Sean. 

 

David: We actually were on a tower one day, working together. And, there was a woman in front of us  and he was there, you know, he was interacting with her and then later to find out that her husband was a Klan member.

 

Paddy (Int): What?

 

David: Yeah, I, I, it was, it was like, wait, Sean, I'm like, what, well, he's like, we went to school together. So just so you know, she is so and so and she's the wife of so and so. And I think he was like head of the Klan, whatever.

 

Paddy (Int):Head of the klan in St. Augustine?

 

David: In St. Augustine, yeah. And Sean was so, nonchalant about it.  And I was, I was like, I didn't know what to say. And I was just blown away. But you know, the thing about St. Augustine is, it has such a dark history

 

Paddy: Since its inception, St. Augustine has been a town of conflict. It was the site of murderous exchanges during the first stages of American colonialism. In the 1700s, it was in the crosshairs of British slave owners who resented the sanctuary it offered escaped slaves. During the American Civil War, it was a Union stronghold within Confederate held Florida. At every stage, the Black community bore the brunt of untold horrors. 

 

In the 1960s, St. Augustine became a focal point of the Civil Rights Movement, stemming from the Monson Motor Lodge incident, when the white owner dumped acid into the pool while Black activists were swimming. In response to Civil Rights protests, boycotts, and marches in support of the black community, the KKK,- long entrenched in St. Augustine- ramped up their terror. The Klan staged rallies and committed murders, shootings, and arson. And the passing of the Civil Rights Act did little to quell the Klan there. 

 

David: So when I grew up,  there were times where I see Klan rallies. It was a normal thing. There was a plaza in St. Augustine. I literally had to walk through it because that was the only way I can get to class. And it's a small town, so you knew who's who. So I knew whose dad was a Klan and whose son would be out there surfing.

 

Paddy (Int): You'd be in the water with Klan members?

 

David: Yeah, I mean, you know, I'm not going to paddle away. I knew who they were because we had one high school. You know, in one high school, it's easy for you to decipher who's who.

 

Growing up in St. Augustine, you were exposed to the history of America. And as a black kid, you were exposed to the history of the racial inequality, the racial reckoning, you can imagine being a city that had such an important impact in the Civil Rights Act passage, how much that is, being used as a means of terror and denial of freedom and rights the African Americans had. And I came to that conclusion fairly quickly in St. Augustine. I mean, it didn't take me that long to figure out what was happening.  Before I came to America, I didn't know a lot of this history because I went to a Greek school. You know, I learned, you know, Greek mythology and Greek history and European history and whatever I can learn about my culture, Ethiopia, came through my parents, you know, teaching me in Ethiopia and additional classes that I took.  So it was easy for me to quickly understand  what America was all about. And St. Augustine was  the place where you learn, you know,  the beautiful story of America, but you really also learn the dark side of American history through the lens of the civil rights, , Jim Crow era, , the Klans.

 

And that was really my experience. And a lot of that, I think, subconsciously has stayed in me.

 

Paddy: When David graduated high school in 1992, he knew he wanted to leave Florida and he knew he wanted to find a place to study and surf. And what better place to do both than California? He packed his things and set off to Cal State Long Beach.  

 

David: I fell in love with California for multiple reasons. One was the diversity. I would see a lot more black surfers out in the water than I did in St. Augustine. And that was really beautiful, you know. Just seeing another brother or sister out in the water, just nodding, you know, realizing, oh, you have something that I love, you love as well. , and that was really powerful and touching.

 

Two was, I hadn't had Ethiopian food for quite a long time, so the minute that I tasted Ethiopian food, I was like, oh man, this is amazing. It brought, you know, like, the smell, it's like you as an American not having hot dogs or burger or, you know, the dish that you grew up with. All of a sudden you discover it so many years later.

 

And then the third was, I saw so many Ethiopian women in Los Angeles and I was like, man, I have to move here and find my wife.

 

Paddy: Eventually, he did. David got married, had two kids, started a successful career in advertising, and he surfed through all of it. It was within LA's surf community where David was introduced to California's history of Black beach goers, surf clubs, and coastal businesses and towns dating back to the 1800s. 

 

But it wasn’t until the hate crimes and the subsequent global movement for racial justice in 2020, and his son’s pleading questions, that David began to pour himself into research of Black surfing in California. This is when he learned of the first-ever written accounts of surfing from Coastal Africa, more than 100 years before accounts from Hawaii. 

 

David: and me having come from Africa, that was like just a beautiful marriage of two different stories. It had a healing quality to it to discover that. And by that, what I mean is, there's a lot of African American history and African history  that is not truly shared  within our educational system  and to discover that was just beautiful and  that discovery unpacks and unlocks so many things about us,  and I think that has a healing quality to it. And to have the power to share it, to find a medium to share it was very, very much healing because I knew I could do it.

 

And I knew that healing would come for many other people.

 

Paddy: Though he’d never directed a film, David’s career in advertising has made him a gifted visual storyteller. Not to suggest that making a feature-length documentary is an easy task, but David’s talent for story and passion for the history of Black surfing drove the film’s creation. 

 

David: The emotional rollercoaster that people take when they watch this documentary. It's very much, edited in such a way so it touches your heart and challenges the things that you thought you knew. And you're discovering new things, but at the same time you're discovering them through joy and also through, the tragic of history.

 

Paddy: More on that after the break.

 

[Ad Break]

 

Paddy: At its heart, Wade in the Water is the story of how the Black American experience is inextricably linked with the history of Surfing. The film is a history lesson, introducing the audience to the founders of the Black beach and surf culture, the violence used to remove Black people from the oceanside, and the folks who made sure that Black surfing can thrive today. And it’s a history that begins far across the Atlantic ocean.

 

Wade in the Water Film: There’s a lot of misnomers about African people. One is that Africans and water don’t mix, right? That Black people aren’t in the water. That’s false.

 

Paddy: This is Professor Kevin Dawson, author of the book “Under Current of Power, Aquatic Culture and the African Diaspora.” In this interview for Wade in the Water, Professor Dawson details how surfing, and life in the water, was an integral part of coastal African life.

 

Wade in the Water Film: One thing to understand about Atlantic Africa is that it has few natural harbors. The only way to get to the continent from the ocean is to cross through the surf. And so Africans developed what are known as surf canoes to get from the beach to the coastal fisheries, to get to shipping lanes.

 

Paddy:. From Senegal to Angola, Africans were using the surf, the ocean, and rivers as a means of recreation, spirituality, community building, and commerce. The first account of surfing in Africa was in 1640 and is considered the first-ever documentation of surfing in the world, more than 100 years before the famed Captain Cook account in Hawaii. 

 

To be clear, David's film is not contending that Africans invented surfing - a debate he sees as damaging to Hawaiian legacy and distracting from the message of his film.

 

David: For me, it was important telling this story that it wasn't about the comparison about Hawaii and Africa where surfing started. I really didn't want to have that dialogue.

 

What I wanted to have was a dialogue about our history through the context of the black experience through the African experience and the focus to be on that. Because if you open it up other than that, it just really takes the attention away because there's conversations about Peru being the first place, of course, Hawaii, our brothers and sisters in Hawaii, what was interesting was for, you know, a lot of African Americans that have come. into the Americas through the slave trade.

 

There's so many examples of individuals that were so connected to the ocean, not only as, as a means of, you know, economics, but recreational or, you know, as a means of escape.

 

Paddy: For the film's title, David chose Wade in the Water, the same name of a Black spiritual, the lyrics of which present a powerful dual meaning.

 

Wade in the Water Film:

"...Wade in the water, children

 

Wade in the water

 

God's gonna trouble the water..."

 

Paddy: The use of the word "troubled", meaning a stirring up and muddying of water, is a biblical reference to the cleansing and healing entities in water, a baptism in God's love and protection. This was a comforting thought to slaves, who also used the song as a literal roadmap for escape by way of the Underground Railroad. 

 

In fact, it's believed that Harriet Tubman used to sing it to communicate to the enslaved that the way to escape is through rivers and the ocean, so the dogs won't scent their clothes.

 

Wade in the Water Film: So when you think about enslaved people in the Americas running away, at least in America, we oftentimes think of them running over land, right? And so like, figures like Harriet Tubman come to the center, come to the forefold. The term underground railroad refers to aquatics though. With this enslaved man, he’s pursued to the Ohio River, he dives into the river, he goes underwater, and the people who are pursuing him, they don’t see him anymore and they say kind of as a joke, that he must have gone on the underground railroad. 

 

Paddy: Wade In The Water contextualizes the racist economic and socio-political sabotage of Black communities, beach goers, and businesses, as well as the horrifying violence that was used to segregate Californian beaches from the early 1800s through the Civil Rights movement in places like Bruce's Beach.

 

David: Bruce's Beach was, a property that was purchased in  1912 by the Bruce's family, and , they basically built a bathhouse where African Americans can come and use it as a means to get to the beach, and this is in Manhattan Beach, and it existed until 1924.  But from the minute that they open the bathhouse, a lot of the neighbors, a lot of them, White neighbors, you know, would, would just harass them and they would tape off, you know, part of the beach so they don't have access to the beach.

 

There were times where the Klan came in and burned, you know, mattress trying to burn the house down. And then eventually in 1924, the city ended up using eminent domain to shut it down and take the property away.  That wasn't the only beach property where African Americans ended up losing access to the ocean. There was another location called La Bonita in Santa Monica where multiple other businesses around it and that area was burned and turned into the city civic center.

 

And there's history there also of redlining and building freeways, you know, the 10 freeway basically cut through the African American community. And then there's another example, which is the Pacific Beach Club. And this is a beach club in Huntington Beach. And this was, 1926. And at the initial opening, over 10, 000 people showed up, and you know, Klan came in and burned it to the ground.

 

So there's this, you know,  access to the beach being denied, by all means for African Americans using either the legal means or building freeways or actually burning, you know, properties down , which is, the hardest part of the documentary or history, you know, I should say, to see and hear and to learn is how systematic this was. This was pretty much, very well planned, becoming part of a law or pretty much part of a group, , preparing to make sure that Africans, African Americans didn't have access to the beach. And a lot of that has to do about,  most white people wanting access to the beach and owning properties on the beach and not wanting to see African Americans, being part of the community. It's, it's devastating because, you know, as a surfer, you have this amazing connection to the ocean  and you want anyone and everyone to have access to the ocean. Just imagine if La Bonita existed, Ebony Beach Club existed, the Pacific Beach Club existed, Bruce's Beach existed, how rich that culture would have been. the connection to the ocean that African Americans lost, and the financial benefits, what if there was a generational wealth that was passed on.  That's where I see the devastation in terms of the financial means and also the connection to nature

 

Paddy: But despite detailing the appalling and seemingly insurmountable racism and brutality, Wade In The Water isn’t a catalogue of injustices. It is also a film about community and hope. 

 

David: as Black people around the world,  it's always been a challenge. It continues to be a challenge and we always overcome  when we talk about, you know, black excellence is that  being able to persevere as Nick did. You know, in the fifties, as Tony did in the seventies, as Sharon did in the eighties and the younger generation that continues to be, you know, an excellent, , role model and individuals that establish new culture, find creative ways to tell stories, creative ways to have access to the beach, Wherever there is, a challenge, we've always found the ways to, to find new means of, of, of solving those problems, , I don't look at  a lot of these challenges and the stories that I told. As, as a means of, for people to feel bad or,  feel sad about the African American experience or the African experience.

 

I share them to show our strength, you know, I share it to show that there's ways out of, you know, how society treats us or changes laws or, continues not to tell our stories through our lens. I Think the power of wade in the water is that, you know, it may start  in historical facts, but it really ends with an uplifting story of the next generation.

 

We're just carrying on the torch. This is a really good example of taking, a tragic moment, right? What happened all the way up to Black Lives Matter and turning it to a, a triumphant story, as an artist, this is your role in society,  to reflect what's happening in life.

 

You can go back to civil rights movement, and you'll find amazing artists that express themselves of how they felt at that time. But I think they expressed themselves to show the triumph,  and to tell the next generation to pick up, what they had dealt with and be able to move on and, overcome the obstacles of, what it is to be a black person living on earth,

 

Paddy: David points to organizations like Intersection Surf, Color The Water, Black Surfers Collective, the new Ebony Beach Club, and Black surfers like Natasha Smith, Nate Fluellen, Brick Howse, Sierra Raequel, and Joshe Faulkner as the leaders of today's Black surf culture. These orgs and people are continuing the historic pursuit of joy in the water, using surfing as a vehicle for healing and freedom. But David knows the path forward is still unfortunately peppered with obstacles. 

 

Paddy (int): In creating the documentary.  Do you think you've found a lesson  or a different meaning to our outdoor community?

 

David: This is just me being honest. Um, you know,  a lot of  organizations, individuals and outdoors companies  wanted and said that they would support, you know, black communities and individuals and organizations.  And I'm really disappointed, not surprised,  disappointed by the outcome of that.

 

DEI is dying and continues to die  This, to me, seems like, you know, Knowing American history, I feel like we're going through Jim Crow part two, and you will always have individuals that are positive, optimistic, and know what is right.

 

And I know they will do the right thing. And you always have individuals and organizations  and companies that would cower and not. keep their promise. And that's the honest truth.

 

Paddy: So it seems like maybe the lesson is, yes, there has been great strides forward,  and yet there is still a ton of work to be done and people need to step up.

 

David: That's accurate.

 

Paddy: David is not Pollyannaish about our history, our present, or our future. Confronting our violent history is a gut wrenching and heart aching task. And Wade In The Water pulls no punches in its presentation. But that’s the point. The outdoor community needs a constant moral inventory of the lasting effects of racism. That’s not, and shouldn’t be, an activity given kid-glove treatment. To me, that is why watching Wade In The Water is so powerfully moving. But that’s not the only ���𲹲��Dz�.��

 

When I first saw Wade In The Water, I audibly sorrowed at the centuries of brutality and lack of humanity Black folks have been forced to endure. But David doesn’t ask his audience to tread water while holding a cinder block. For as long as there has been Black Tragedy, there has been Black Joy, and relentless action at the center of Black Freedom. And through surfing, David brilliantly and artfully offers a way forward for us all…the unwavering and radical act of hope. 

 

Paddy (Int): Are you hopeful of the future of, surf culture in America?

 

David: Always hopeful, always hopeful.  You know, even in the darkest moment, you have to be hopeful. hopeful and optimistic and move forward. You just have to, you know, and I think for a lot of us, as black people, that is our path, from a young age, you learn that and that becomes who you are.

 

You know, you become hopeful, resilient, and a fighter, and you'll find creative ways to solve, you know, social, political, financial solutions. That's part of life.

 

it's not easy being a black man in America. It really is not.

 

And I think having something like surfing allows you to find that one hour, two hour to just, Disconnect from everything that's happening,

 

As a black surfer, there's the escape. The spiritual experience and also the freedom from everything that's happening around me.

 

And I think every surfer feels this, but I think, to Rick's point, as a black person, your experience is truly different when you're out in the water, and then to know that this was part of the African culture a thousand years back, it probably, you know,  Older than thousand year old.

 

That makes it even better.

 

Wade in the Water Film: Before Black was labeled the oil that don't mix with water, before Black men don't swim, before Black women don't get their hair wet, we were surfers with locks and braids, afros that fade like black curl magic. Blackboard, joy, black sea rising from African shores, because before Black had barbershop and beauty salon, Black had beach, Black was always on board with fellowship and on boards, pushed from the beaches. We were pulled toward the breaks. They can arrest the surfer, but they can't arrest the waves.

So we ride, kick flip 360, and drop as if autographing the tides with our John Hancock. We move like poetry in the ocean, for we are the original bodies of water, just as much body in the ocean as we are a ocean in the body, composed of one part flesh, two parts water, and three part harmony. A body, a wave, and a blade are all we need to see the world. So come find me where motherland meets Mother Sea, let this tide carry us home, on wood, polyurethane, and soft top foam. We are made in the water, birthed from a pregnant motherland each time her water point breaks. We are saved in the water, baptized by the waves, but never capsized by the wakes.

We are spayed in the water, kings and queens of an ocean that has always bet on Black. We are raids in the water. We each take to the water and take the water back. We are swayed to the water. Like shore calls the sea, we are slaves to the water. The only place we feel free, we are home in the water. We have its DNA, it has our trust, so make no mistake, it is the water that wades in US.

 

• Wade in the water ! Wade in the water, children! Wade in the water / God's gonna trouble the water

Wade in the water Wade in the water, children! Wade in the water ! ! God's gonna trouble the water

God's gonna trouble the water

 

OUTRO