A Woman's Place is in the Outdoors
Updated: Sep 3
Femininity in the Outdoors
In recent years, women have made major strides in outdoor sports, reclaiming space that was once considered off-limits.
In snowboarding, a sport that still feels largely male-dominated, camaraderie among women is growing. The change is palpable; we’re building our own communities and supporting each other in intentional, uplifting ways, even when most of the people on the lift beside us are still men.
The boom in outdoor recreation over the past decade has pulled more women into these spaces than ever before. Being a woman participating in outdoor recreation is no longer taboo, but it still comes with a tax: the ongoing work of dismantling stereotypes while trying to show up as ourselves.
One creator shared a video with a hack to have “slut-strands”—two pieces of hair that you keep out of your helmet to show you’re a girl—even if you don’t have long enough hair. She used clip-in extensions so women without long hair could do it too, which struck me as genius rather than vain. Predictably, men showed up in the comments calling it shallow.
If women want to express themselves on the mountain, let them. If you’re a snowboarder who wants to ditch the baggy style and wear a fitted skisuit, you should! If you want to wear a full face of makeup on a powder day or during your thru-hike, more power to ya! We shouldn't have to negotiate away our femininity to be taken seriously outside. Put on the (biodegradable) glitter and get out there.
The gear industry is catching up, too. More brands built specifically for women are gaining visibility. Brands showing up in the space, with outdoor gear made for women and by women, help us feel seen and valued in outdoor spaces. Ski boots cut for female calves, pants built around actual hips. The anatomy-as-an-afterthought era is finally ending.
Ultimately, while there’s still progress to be made, the outdoors are becoming a more inclusive, empowering place for women, one where femininity and strength can coexist and thrive.
“Bro” Culture
As a content creator of the minority gender in my chosen sport, the “bros” come running to my comments every time I post a snowboarding clip—mansplaining and judging my looks, body, form, and humor.
"Bro culture" often involves high-energy, competitive dynamics, and a focus on pushing boundaries.
Sure, this can inspire some, but in a space where I already feel a little out of place, it sets a tone where only certain voices and perspectives are heard.
In snowboarding or climbing, there’s pressure to perform at high levels or "go hard," which can overshadow individual growth, safe progression, or even just enjoying the outdoors at your own pace.
For those not fitting into this "bro" stereotype, the culture can feel exclusionary.
Many people and groups are pushing back against this culture, striving to create more inclusive spaces focusing on camaraderie and shared enjoyment rather than pure performance.
Organizations like SheJumps and Brown Girls Climb, and women-founded brands like Halfdays and Nobody's Princess, are building spaces where the point is enjoyment and camaraderie, not proving yourself to strangers. The message: this was never supposed to belong to one type of person.
Sending It Safely
This is the one that hits closest to home. As someone who prefers to adventure alone, I've learned that women carry a heavier logistical burden in the backcountry than any man has ever even considered.
I tell multiple friends exactly where I'm going, when I'll be back, and what time to worry if I don't check in. I hold off on posting to Instagram until I'm home. I carry bear spray less for wildlife than for people. It's a form of vigilance most women are taught from childhood; habits we already practice in cities, just with higher stakes and fewer witnesses.
Camping alone comes with its own set of precautions: a fake engagement ring, an extra folding chair set up like I'm expecting company, never letting a neighboring site know I'm solo. Booking an official campsite under my own name, somewhere I'm accounted for, helps too. Above all, trust my instinct if something feels off, and have an exit plan ready before I need it.
Bro culture complicates this further. I've ridden with groups of guys who push the pace past what feels safe, and early on, I didn't have the nerve to say so. Learning to advocate for myself—even when it means being the one person slowing the group down or riding back to the life alone—has been its own kind of progress.
There have been moments, on a trail or a run, where something in me pulls back — not fear exactly, more like a gut-level not this, not today. There's, of course, a thin line or should I say, ridge line- to walk here. Not always giving in to unmet anxiety, but also listening to yourself when something isn't right. Pushing ourselves to do hard, sometimes scary things, but not overdoing it so we can do them again.
Speaking up if you’re uncomfortable or need to adjust the plan keeps everyone safe. Adventure is about pushing limits but doing it smart.
Body Issues
My relationship with my body has been reshaped almost entirely by trail running, hiking, and snowboarding. It's no longer something to scrutinize or pick apart; my body has become something built to do things.
On the ski lift or trail, I’m not thinking about how my body looks; I’m focused on what it can do and how it carries me through incredible places that not everyone's body has the capacity to show them. These activities taught me to be proud of my strength and resilience. Every hike and every turn on my board reminds me of what I’m capable of and how strong I have to be to move in nature.
The more I've centered experience over image, the less bandwidth I have left for worrying about size.
When I’m outside, my body feels like a vehicle for adventure and freedom. Literally like a vehicle that I must fuel, care for, and get regular maintenance done on. Stretching, eating correctly, resting when I need to, and above all, listening to my needs of when to stop or have a snack. Being in nature—having the opportunity to experience wild places on foot or on a board—has done more for my healing journey than all my years of therapy combined.
Hiking and snowboarding remind me to appreciate the present moment, to be grateful for the power of my legs on a steep ascent or the stability of my core in deep snow. Each challenge makes me stronger and shows me that my body is enough just as it is.
How I approach caring for my body
I don't feel pressure to look a certain way, and I'm not chasing anyone's approval. At any size, I already knew I was strong and capable. That part never changed.
What changed is how I take care of myself. I stopped drinking because I felt better without it. I pay more attention to how I fuel my body and how I move it. Not as punishment, and not to chase an image, but because I only want to move in ways that bring me joy. Trail running, hiking, and snowboarding are that. Nothing about this needs outside validation. It's mine.
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