“Nice board.”
The voice was sweet but firm, the kind that carried both kindness and authority – the kind you listen to. I looked up mid-rinse at the beach park shower and nearly froze. Standing there, in all her legendary grace, was Auntie Rell Sunn. Rell Sunn!
The woman who shaped my entire outlook on surfing as a pre-teen and made me believe that being a female wave rider was not only possible, but empowering . And here she was, casually admiring my board.
For the record, it was a total beater. A hand-me-down from my dad – yellowed, dinged, and light-years away from freshies most everyone else had. I’d spent years being embarrassed by that thing.
But Auntie Rell? She saw the soul in it. She had this effortless way of making you feel like you belonged, no matter what you rode. It was just another example of how she spread Aloha to the younger generation.
I come from a time where girls wore one-piece swimsuits with oversized boys’ board shorts, before the ubiquitous, Brazilian thong bikinis that are the standard North Shore uniform of girls today.
Back then, women’s surfing wasn’t commercialised like it is now. No massive sponsorships for the most part, no Instagram clips, and no influencer deals. There were only a handful of women consistently in the lineup, so if you paddled out, you were usually surrounded by men.
Being born and raised in Hawai’i, surfing was all about the community when I was growing up.
Families packed their coolers, stayed all day, and you’d find anything to ride – surfboards, boogie boards, paipo boards, bodysurfing fins, whatever kept you in the water. There was no ‘Surfline’ to check the forecast. You just went and hoped for the best.
The few amateur contests that existed, like the Menehune, Buffalo’s, or Rell Sunn’s competitions, were about fun, tradition, and getting the groms stoked.
When Quiksilver launched its women’s brand, ‘Roxy’, the industry finally started recognising female surfers – not just as athletes but as a market to the masses. Suddenly, women’s surfing had a look –sun-bleached hair, ‘Roxy’ boardshorts with those iconic side ties, and glossy half-page spreads in ‘Surfer’ magazine.
But in the North Shore lineups? Still about five guys to every one gal. Sure, you had women out there – locals, a few touring pros –but the numbers were small. If you weren’t confident, it’d be very difficult to get a wave. Luckily, I had grown up in competitive water sports – outrigger canoe paddling, water polo, paddleboarding, surfing, swim team and whatnot – so I knew how to hold my ground. You learned fast: wait your turn, respect the Uncles, don’t drop in on anyone, or you will get pounded.
Then ‘Blue Crush’ happened.
Hollywood got its hands on the North Shore surf scene, and while the movie took major creative liberties (like a woman learning to surf Pipe in two weeks), it made an impact. Suddenly, the world saw women not just surfing but charging some of the scariest waves on Earth. The lineup started shifting. More girls paddled out. All walks of life started to pay attention to the North Shore culture and waves, and they started to come in masses, which meant more visitors throughout the year instead of just surfers in the wintertime.
The North Shore still holds onto its roots – respect, tradition, and a little localism – but it’s evolved. Once predominantly male dominated, it now boasts an eclectic mix of female talent, including a flock of new faces from around the world.
The charge in my era was led by surfers like Megan Abubo, Rochelle Ballard and Keala Kennelly, to name a few – who weren’t just stylish; they were fearless. To me, these trailblazers changed the face of women’s surf culture, just as the likes of Judy Trim, Jodie Cooper, Pam Burridge, Carol Philips, and Lynn Boyer did in the generation before.
Meanwhile, seeing women like Lane Davey, Alex Florence, and Emilia Perry in the lineup at Pipe was always both comforting and inspiring while I’d be out there bobbing around like a seal with my bodysurf fins on; looking for corners, while they patiently waited hours just to catch one wave. But that’s just how it worked out there – you waited your turn, and if you were patient, you might get something.
I remember competing in the Pipeline bodysurf competition. I was the only woman in the entire event, and honestly, one of my biggest motivations for entering was just to enjoy the rare experience of being out there with only a handful of people instead of battling the usual crowd.
During my heat, as I was sitting between sets, one of the male competitors looked over at me and said, “Hey girl, you need to move down the beach; we’re having a contest here.” Before I could even process how ridiculous that was, another guy in the heat immediately corrected him:
“That’s Crystal; she’s in our heat.”
At that moment, I didn’t care about winning – I just needed to beat ‘him’. My entire competitive drive narrowed down to one goal: making sure I beat ‘that guy’. And I did, luckily.
Now, a new generation is pushing things even further. Coco Ho, Moana Jones Wong, and Bettylou Sakura Johnson aren’t just holding their own; they’re redefining what’s possible. And it’s not just shortboards. The longboard scene has its own nobility, with surfers like Honolua Blomfield, Leah Dawson, and Rosie Jaffurs bringing classic style to heavier waves.
Even in big-wave surfing, women are making major moves. Emi Erickson and up-and-comer, Zoee Bradshaw, are continuing their fathers’ legacies, proving that charging giant surf isn’t just for the guys. There are even prodigies, like 16-year-old Chesney Guinotte, a grommet whose parents don’t surf, yet she has the drive and community support to be one of the youngest girls invited into the VANS Pipe Masters.
The waves of the North Shore remain as challenging as ever, but the lineup has transformed. The legacy of female surfers from the past to today is a tapestry of resilience, innovation, and community.
As more women paddle out, inspired by those who came before, the future of women’s surfing on the North Shore looks brighter –and bolder – than ever.
As social media takes hold and perhaps makes it all seem easier than it is, you can now feel the shift in the lineup – more unfamiliar faces, many inadequately skilled for the setting, making it more challenging and dangerous. The need for safety awareness and etiquette becomes increasingly more apparent.
Now, as a 40-something-year-old mum and sponsored freesurfer, I find myself part of a whole new category of surfers. You could call them ‘The Frothing Mums’. Beyond the competitive scene, the North Shore’s female surf community has grown into a supportive network. I’ll admit it – I didn’t fully see them before I had a kid. Sure, I knew they existed, but I never really appreciated what they did to make this surf community work, or the impact that North Shore mums had on the up and coming professional surfers.
Take Lisa Andersen – arguably one of the greatest surf mums ever. She didn’t just balance surfing and motherhood; she won four World Titles while doing it.
When I had my daughter I was desperate to find anyone who could meet me at the beach so I could sneak in a session. I started dipping her underwater at three months old, getting her used to the ocean. By eight months, we were boogie boarding together, and our mother-daughter double act continues to evolve into surfing and bodysurfing.
I found my crew – other ocean-obsessed mums just as desperate for waves as I was. We rotated childcare duty, tag-teaming the lineup while the other wrangled kids onshore. It was part survival, part sisterhood, and honestly, some of the most fun I’ve ever had. It was my saving grace while my husband was at work.
As my daughter got older she started paddling out with me. Soon I was showing her the lineup at Pipe from the channel, going out with her crew to our favourite spots, and watching the after school kid fest at Ali’i Beach Park.
Suddenly, it was full circle. I found myself in the water with the next generation – teaching them, hyping them up, reminding them that they belonged.
It took me right back to that moment as a little girl in the beach park shower with Auntie Rell Sunn.
Because at the end of the day, North Shore surfing isn’t just about competition – it’s about community.
And right now? That community is looking a whole lot more female.
