Outside of speech or coupled masterfully with any limited language (earthly or otherwise), the modern-day gesture and all its subspecies have often said what our fancy evolutionary birthright can only begin to articulate: Sometimes there are no words.
The only layback air that matters. Jeff Phillips grabs ahold of the wheel and steers one around. Photo: Grant Brittain
“Up yours,” for example, is far better as a backward peace sign at the end of a bent elbow, leading the charge for a furrowed brow and a snarl. Vocabulary—that high-class collected bark of the English major—simply falls short. Change it around and give it context and we can see eye to eye, celebrate victory, bomb rabbit-ears, and order a couple beers, all while shutting the fuck up—in effect, spraying it and not saying it.
The international gesture for “Up yours, up mine.” But up everybody’s? That takes time! Christian Cooper delivers a double-truck you. Photo: Ray Zimmerman
The close-fisted thumb-up/thumb-down floated an entire decade of Happy Days, the careers of a handful of movie critics, declared ancient Roman verdicts, and will bum a ride like no amount of screaming and yelling can.
Tuck your thumb and a raised and clenched fist is a sign of power, solidarity, strength, and defiance. Left and right, black, red, and white, it’s come to symbolize the uprising of numerous istsand isms. Turn that fist around and prepare to get what’s coming to you, ranging from a viscous beat down to a friendly tap of the knucks.
If feet could talk, Jonas Skröder’s would petition for a gentle catch-and-release policy. Kicky wallride. Photo: Michael Blabac
Okay. Shaka. Slayer! Loser. Live long and prosper. Jack off. Pray hard. Time out. Kill me.
And the middle finger? Fuck you, that’s why.
But what of skateboarding’s own nonverbals, in which every push and trick, every bend of the arm, crook of the head, and hold of the hand invokes meaning? Each time we skate, the bodily functions of the originators (as well as the original appropriators) are all remembered with a distinct meaning, calling to mind a time, a vibe, a team, a neighborhood, a spot.
Reese Forbes bums a ride down in the ATL. Photo: Jon Humphries
Hackett’s slash, Alva’s tuck-knee, Lance’s sadplant, Tommy’s bounce, Gonz’s front foot, Phillips’ straight-leg, Monty’s back horns, J. Lee’s tre, Cardiel’s bluntslides, the Boss’ frontside flips, Heath’s lipslides. Say no more.
Actions speak louder. Davis Torgerson goes full Monty. Photo: Michael Blabac
All that and then some, everyone who emulates or deviates says something—about themselves and about skateboarding—without saying shit. And luckily, few care to or dare to step to the mic, because while talking about what you just did rarely enhances it, it can always make things worse.
Better, in the case of skateboarding, to let the actions speak louder.
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