LonelyBones Skate Company: The Neon Snooze Interview
CLAIRE LEE AND RAYVEN TATE – WHO FOSTER AN INCLUSIVE & WELCOMING SPACE FOR SKATERS OF EVERY ILK WITH LONELYBONES SKATE CO. – DISCUSS THE MERITS OF BEING AN ABSOLUTE FUCK AND WHY SKATING IN BOSTON IS DIFFICULT, BUT NOT IMPOSSIBLE.
Art by Alyssa Doust, Photography by Sam Eggert
If I told you to picture a classic skater, where does your mind go? For me, it’s mainly “Sk8r Boi” by Avril Lavigne.
Skateboarding began in the 1950s and gained popularity among surfers who were looking for a land-bound alternative, and remained prominent through the mid ‘60s. The popularity of the sport ebbed and flowed through the decades until a talented, daring, and highly marketable skater hit the scene in the ‘90s: Tony Hawk. Hawk became a household name, landing brand deals, endorsements, and even his own video game, Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater. But of the 11 playable characters with real pro-skater counterparts, the game only featured one person of color and one woman.
The Tony Hawk-esque skater boy image permeated through pop culture, cementing the image and “in” crowd of skateboarding as white and male. Which brings us back to the Y2K smash hit “Sk8r Boi.” The music video stars graffitiing bad-boy skaters sporting baggy clothes—and all of those skaters happen to be white males. I wouldn’t exactly feel welcome showing up to a skate park as a beginner if it was filled with those guys.
Rather than fight their way into skate culture’s prominent “Boys Club,” Claire Lee and Rayven Tate took it upon themselves to create their own space—one that’s welcoming to fellow BIPOC and Queer skaters in the Boston area. LonelyBones Skate Co. was born.
Since LonelyBones’ genesis in 2020, Lee and Tate have hosted meetups for dozens of people of varying ability and wheel preference (including skateboards, roller skates, longboards, and anything else that spins). Word of the group spread like wildfire, with news outlets abound covering their story and thousands of eyes flocking to their social media accounts. I was intrigued to see how their community had grown since 2020 and what Claire and Rayven’s experience has been like in the skating community as BIPOC and Queer people.
On a hot evening in June I met up with Rayven and Claire to ask them some questions and do a little skating. Amidst rush hour traffic in Cambridge’s Central Square, we scoured dead ends and one-way streets for alcoves that would lend themselves to street skating. A newly paved lot behind a duplex was working—until a tenant loudly banged on the window to let us know it was time to find a new spot. A small empty church parking lot seemed tantalizing, yet unfriendly (something about the Catholic Church makes it feel like a natural enemy to skateboarding). We finally settled on a shaded one-way street where Claire and Rayven could skate around and show us an amalgam of tricks, including time-tested favorites and a handful still in the works.
Once they had their fill, we found a stoop to sit on and chatted about LonelyBones’ origins, their most prominent influences, and the merits of being “an absolute fuck.” The following conversation has been lightly edited for content and clarity.
Neon Snooze: Can you tell me why you guys decided to start LonelyBones?
Claire: I started skating at the end of 2018-ish after surfing and snowboarding for a while, but I always felt like skateboarding was a little more exclusive and intimidating for whatever reason. I got introduced to it by my boyfriend because, you know, you want to learn and you have no one to learn with. I skated for probably a year and a half-ish until I posted a little bit more on my story and started being open about it. I felt weird because I was like, “I’m not good enough to be posting about it,” and I’m still not good enough to be posting about it I guess, but the whole point is there shouldn’t be that standard. Rayven and I had already been friends at that point, but she started responding to my stories and we started talking more about skating and about how skate style is tied into it all and stigmatized by the toxic side of skate culture. For a long time I’ve been inspired by GRLSWIRL, which is a women-owned skate collective based out of California, but there were some things that I felt like were missing from the female-led skate clubs that already existed—like BIPOC representation and Queer representation, as well as just East Coast representation, because it really is different over here. We have an off-season where we can’t skate – or it’s really difficult to skate – and so that was what inspired me. And then of course when I had the idea, I was like, ‘I’m gonna ask Rayven!” So I just texted Rayven and said, “If I did this would you do it with me?” She was like, “Yup!” and that was it. It was not dramatic. I cannot stress how little thought went into it.
NS: I’ve never heard about GRLSWIRL. What’s their whole deal?
Rayven: They’re another skate collective that started in Venice Beach, and they started a chapter in New York and another one in San Diego. So they very much lean into the whole sunset vibes and “we’re on the beach,” which is very different from here.
C: Yeah, it’s not anything wrong with GRLSWIRL.
R: It just doesn’t really fit the mold here. I like what they do—I mean, they’re fantastic people. They’ve set a standard. Without them, I feel like we wouldn’t be where we are now. It’s fantastic what they’ve done but it just doesn’t translate over here. What beach are we skating on, Carson Beach? The fact of the matter is Boston is super cold, it snows, there’s cobblestone, everywhere. That was another one of our big things: We wanted to show that you can skate in Boston. This should be a resource for people to be able to find skate spots here. When you think of East Coast skating, you think of New York. But you can skate in Boston, too. People don’t really think about that or know about that. Like, even in terms of parks, there’s just not that many.
“My favorite is being an absolute fuck. Just, like, throwing myself at it. I feel like there’s no other time in my life I get to do that. We always talk about going to a really intense school where everything has to be perfect and you have to be so on top of it . . . It’s nice to do a thing where it’s okay to suck and be really goofy and bad.”
NS: Do you think that the obstacles in Boston – like weather and cobblestone streets – have hindered your ability to skate? Or have you benefited from the challenge of skating in a city like Boston?
R: I feel like both, honestly. Because there are fewer spots, there are always people skating here which helps build community. Where I live the roads are bad, so it’s either a major highway, a major parkway, or potholes. When I lived on campus I could go behind one of the buildings in a parking lot and I can’t really do that now, so it definitely hinders it in that respect. But I feel like in terms of bringing people together – because other people need the same spots – even if we’re not talking to each other, it is nice seeing the same person over and over again skating in the same spots that you skate at.
NS: How would you describe skate culture in your own words, both from an outside perspective and now that you started LonelyBones?
C: I guess from an outside perspective – like from my teen years looking in on it – it definitely seemed really male-dominated. As I started to try to integrate myself into it, it felt like a lot of those same people who kind of intimidated me from ever trying it also seemed to say, “Oh, skateboarding is so inclusive! We’re the most welcoming environment!” We’ve had so many people say, “I don’t know why LonelyBones has to exist.” And so that in and of itself is really discouraging, because you start to question yourself and you start to think, “Oh…maybe I should be feeling included but I’m not. What’s wrong with me?” Right? “Why don’t I feel the way that the people who know skate culture and the industry really well are saying I should?” I guess having thought for a long time as a kid that skate culture was this scary and intimidating place hardened me a little bit. And as I started skating, I realized that there are these pockets of people who share our values and have shared our experiences. So I would say it isn’t all this super-harsh, unfriendly environment. Some of it is, some of it isn’t.
R: Definitely from an outside perspective it seemed like a boys club and pretty intimidating and clique-y. Especially because the main people who perpetrate that are the same ones who’re saying, “I don’t know why you guys say that—we’re so inclusive! I don’t know why you guys say this that and the third!” Which I don’t even know if they’re doing it on purpose…They’re inclusive within their own community, but when you start to look even a little bit different or move even a little bit different, they become very guarded because they want to gatekeep something that’s super special to them. Sure, but like at the same time, it is something that everyone can do. I feel like when I’m by myself I still feel that way, but when I go with a group it definitely feels a lot different. If that was someone’s first experience, it can change the trajectory of how they see skating. Because my first real introduction to skating was through Claire, I think I have a way better lens of it. The main thing that kept me from skating in the first place was the intimidation of it all. Had I just said “fuck it” and gone by myself, I think I would have felt jaded and not wanted to start to learn again. Creating that environment where it’s people’s first real introduction to it all can really set the tone for how they see skating and will hopefully continue to want to do it.
NS: What’s your favorite part about skating?
C: My favorite is being an absolute fuck. Just like throwing myself at it. That time we filmed for Channel 5 I fell so much. And there was a camera on me at all times. I had a mic and I fell on the mic and that hurt so bad. I feel like there’s no other time in my life I get to do that. We always talk about going to a really intense school where everything has to be perfect and you have to be so on top of it…it’s nice to do a thing where it’s okay to suck and be really goofy and bad.
R: I’d say the camaraderie. I usually go with groups so I’d say the friends I go with. Everyone is in a good mood every single time, so it’s just very uplifting. So definitely the friend aspect of it all.
C: We just want people to have a good time. That sounds so stupid and vague but that’s really it. At our meetups we hold the responsibility of setting the vibe, setting the energy, you know? And honestly the community is so vibrant and beautiful that the meetups kind of run themselves, except for the logistics. The community just comes together and becomes its own little bubble. But we try really hard to keep it warm and make it this positive space.
