The Film Kids 25 Years On: A Qualitative Study of Rape Culture and Representations of Sexual Violence in Skateboarding

Abstract

This article examines the 1995 fictional feature film Kids, which locates its story in skateboarding culture. The film reached its 25th anniversary in 2020; it is directed by Larry Clark and written by Harmony Korine, both recognizable figures in skateboarding, and it featured a cast of youth from the New York skateboarding scene. The research analyses narrative content that depicts sexual coercion and rape. Contemporary social and feminist theories of sexual violence, rape culture and media on the film inform the analysis. The discussion points to how the characters that the boys play embody forms of hegemonic masculinity, pointing to the social and cultural dimensions of male power and how sexual violence can be an element of that. The article also presents an occasion to reflect on such issues in skateboarding culture more widely, with emerging insights that can be useful to studies of other male-dominated youth cultures, lifestyle sports and subcultures.

Introduction

This article presents a qualitative study of Kids (Clarke, 1995), a feature film that reached its 25th anniversary in 2020 and is described by various film media as a significant part of cinema history (Detrick, 2015; Hynes, 2015; IndieWire, 2015). The film locates its narrative in the culture of skateboarding, based on a day in the life of a group of American teenagers in New York city in the 1990s. Although entirely fictional, Heriot-Darragh (2015) also explains ‘Kids was, to the initiated, an ode to inner-city skateboarding tribes and the culture that connected them’. The film also depicts various forms of masculine power that involve sexual coercion and non-consensual sex, themes that will be explored in more detail in the discussion ahead. Accordingly, Kids offers a unique and detailed case study to analyse representations of sexual violence, a theme examined in other male-dominated mainstream sports and youth studies (Martinez, 2017) but rarely addressed in skateboarding culture and lifestyle sports.

Another characteristic in Kids that links it to and, in some ways, makes it a cultural artefact of the actual world of skateboarding is that its production involved real-life skateboarders (Detrick, 2015; SVD, 2020). Filmed in a cinéma vérité (documentary style) to convey a sense of realism, it was directed by Larry Clark, who was a photographer of the skateboarding scene before the film, and written by Harmony Korine, a skateboarder who was then 19. Kids was also acted by a cast made up of youth aged between 13 and 19 at the time of filming, with most hand-chosen from the Washington Square Park skateboarding scene in New York City (Garcia-Vasquez, 2015). One character, the late Harold Hunter, was a professional skater who played himself (HHF, 2020), while the then 16-year-old Leo Fitzpatrick (Telly) and Justin Pierce (Casper) were also skaters in real life who played fictional characters who skate. Other pivotal characters were played by a 15-year-old Rosario Dawson (Darcy) and Chloë Sevigny (Jennie) who was 16 years old. The film was produced by Gus Van Sant and was distributed by the Excalibur Films company of Harvey Weinstein who was highly influential in Hollywood at the time of the film’s release, resulting in its reach to audiences not only within but also well beyond the skateboarding scene.

Kids is described by various film writers as one of the most controversial films ever made about youth (Hynes, 2015; IndieWire, 2015). Telly and his friends are shown to inhabit a world without parents or adults, where violence and heteronormative, hegemonic masculinity (Connell, 1995) is centred and where sex is explicitly portrayed as something boys can achieve with girls through using pressure, manipulation or deceit. Producer Harvey Weinstein is quoted as claiming, ‘Kids was the most controversial film I’ve ever been associated with’ (in Detrick, 2015). Korine also stated in hindsight that ‘It would be impossible to make that film now’, adding ‘You could never get away with it’ (quoted in Locker, 2015). The film used actors under 18 years of age who were filmed in simulated sex scenes including the one that unambiguously depicts rape. Recent retrospective media articles further highlight how, in 1995, Kids was labelled by some as ‘child pornography’ and promoting ‘child obscenity’ (see Hynes, 2015; Locker, 2015).

This study does not propose Kids reflects a core reality that is an exclusive and inherent issue to skateboarding. Rather, this research aims to use the film to critically analyse and reflect upon themes of masculinity, male power and sexual violence, which are nevertheless observed in historical studies, media reports and ethnographic investigations of skateboarding (Bäckström, 2013; Bäckström & Nairn, 2018; Borden, 2019). The findings in this article provide ways to understand how certain social constructions of masculinity rely upon a sense of entitlement and status that subordinates and exerts power over girls and women. The article concludes by suggesting conceptual and theoretical insights drawn from a thematic and narrative analysis of Kids can act as useful lenses and frameworks for further studies, education and awareness projects focused on sexual violence and sexual consent in skateboarding and other youth cultures, action sports and subcultures.

Conceptual and Theoretical Frameworks

The term ‘sexual violence’ is useful for exploring rape as a sociocultural issue and refers to acts that can vary, in degrees of severity and criminality, from sexual harassment that is not physical (e.g., jokes that promote rape culture) to forms of physical assault that are categorized as sexual (groping to penetration). Current social movements like #metoo founded by Tarana Burke and #hollerback (Mendes et al., 2018; Ryan, 2019) that address issues of sexual violence, rape culture and sexual harassment advance the work of feminists in the past (Connell & Wilson, 1974; Lazarus & Wunderlich, 1983). In a pioneering feminist study of rape, Connell and Wilson (1974) drew attention to how sexual violence is a form of exerting power. Most importantly, their work dispels ideas of rape as the result of men’s biological make-up or a ‘natural’ urge. Recent theoretical and empirical work forged by ‘new feminism’ and ‘post feminism’ (Keller et al., 2018; Mendes et al., 2018; Pavlidis & Fullagar, 2014; Phipps et al., 2018; Toffoletti et al., 2018) continue to advance understandings of the social dimensions of gender rather than biological theories. Such literature places an emphasis on the social construction of gender hierarchies, in which hegemonic forms of masculinity and heteronormativity currently dominate and work to sexually objectify women and position them as inferior and subordinate.

The concept of ‘rape culture’ is also drawn upon in this study as it emphasizes cultural dimensions of rape that can involve ‘harmful practices, including rape jokes, sexual harassment, cat-calling, sexualized “banter”; the routine policing of women’s bodies, dress, appearance and code of conduct; and the re-direction of blame from the perpetrator in an assault to the victim’ (Keller et al., 2018, p. 24). A guiding definition of rape culture was drawn from the gender and feminist study by Keller et al. (2018, p. 23) who explain that a ‘rape culture is one in which sexual assault is not only seen as inevitable in some contexts, but desirable and excusable’. Entitlement is another aspect of rape culture, described as involving situations ‘where men not only feel they have a right to access women’s bodies, but feel confident they can access them without fear of consequence’ (Keller et al., 2018, p. 27).

In their research of what is known as ‘acquaintance rape’, Demant and Bruvik Heinskou (2011) also point to where boys and men fail to seek clear and active consent. In their study of Danish youth, these authors highlighted ‘grey areas’ where some individuals report that the lines of consent can be complicated by alcohol, notions of chance due to familiarity and alleged misinterpretations. The phenomenon known as ‘date rape’ also highlights how those who commit sexual abuse can take advantage of being familiar to victims and, in the case of men, may even be perceived as ‘good guys’ (Martinez, 2017). In other words, the charm, charisma or likeability of the accused can shape people’s disbelief or minimization when/if they are accused of rape. In a study of sexual violence on university campuses, Wooten and Mitchell (2016) also explain that rape and sexual violence do not always involve obvious force such as physical violence (e.g., at knifepoint, punching, strangling). Coercion may be emotional, psychological and by deception. These studies further emphasize the need for stronger awareness and understanding as to what constitutes consensual and non-consensual sex. Contemporary suggestions (such as in Klement et al., 2017; Wooten & Mitchel, 2016) include that consent must be confirmed with a clear yes and enthusiasm rather than through an absence of saying no.

It is also important to recognize that the perpetrators of sexual violence are not limited to any one gender, sexuality, ethnic and socio-economic background. This research is especially focused on analysing a fictional film that represents White, heterosexual, cis-gendered teenage boys who are the two main characters in Kids. At the same time, it is valuable to acknowledge that harmful forms masculinity are also argued to be evident in cases of sexual violence where perpetrators are from the lesbian, gay, bi-sexual, transgender, intersex and queer (LBTIQ+) communities (Bedera & Nordmeyer, 2020). Such considerations also further support the stance of this research, which is based on social and cultural understandings of rape which depart from biological frameworks of sexual violence.

The term ‘toxic masculinity’ has had usage in recent feminist efforts in skateboarding to specifically challenge misogynist-based behaviours. However, Browne (2019) argues the term has limitations for capturing less overt forms of power and risks being ‘reductive and deterministic, and struggles to emerge from its historic essentialist roots. It simplifies the complex contextualisation of decisions around the practices of men’. She also argues for conceptualizations of male power that provide for ‘a rigorous examination of … the specifics of social bonding practices and entitlement among men, and the ways these are structurally supported’ (Browne, 2019).

In this study, gender does not refer to the biological sex categories and instead draws on the seminal work of Connell (1995) who argues there is a spectrum of non-fixed yet hierarchically ordered and socially constructed gender formations. As Johansson et al. (2012, p. 70) explain further, ‘Gender can be seen as action rather than fixed “roles”. People constantly “do gender” through everyday action and interaction, and negotiate and renegotiate what …[that] means’. Hegemonic masculinity (Connell, 1995) is maintained through social processes, such as physical domination, aggression, competition, sexism and homophobia, and has been useful for the study of men’s friendships, rivalries and identities in previous studies of skateboarding videos and documentaries (Willing et al., 2020; Yochim, 2010). Studies of ‘lad culture’ (Phipps et al., 2018), which is more directly associated with boys and young men, also connect this type of masculinity to expressions of rape culture and sexual violence. Accordingly, ‘hegemonic masculinity’ (Connell, 1995) provides a highly suitable lens to study the portrayal of teenage boys in Kids, and also acts as a reflection point for how such themes can sometimes be normative in skateboarding culture more generally. As we shall see in the next section, forms of hegemonic masculinity and rape culture can historically be observed in some aspects of skateboarding. Attention will also be given to contemporary shifts, including consent-themed campaigns emerging from within the skateboarding community.

Background

As the skateboarding community navigates its way into the second decade of the 21st century, it is timely to reflect on what kind of social history and cultural legacies are the skaters of today inheriting from the past. Kids, which is used as a case study for this research, was released in the mid-1990s. The period from the 1990s is particularly ripe for exploration, as the styles of skating, skate videos and many famous skateboarders of that era still have a strong influence on the culture of skateboarding in the present. Scholars also note that a significant cohort of skaters from the 1990s are also now reaching middle age and passing on forms of ‘temporal’ and ‘subcultural’ capital that positively shape skateboarding culture through creating social bonds and belonging from a sense of collective interests, lifestyles and identities (O’Connor, 2017; Willing et al., 2019). Concurrently, this period in history is also argued to not be entirely progressive (Pappalardo, 2019) and as also having elements of misogyny (Borden, 2019).

Various studies of gender in action sports and skateboarding in contemporary times (Bäckström, 2013; Thorpe & Olive, 2016; Yochim, 2010) also illustrate how Western, heterosexual, cis-gendered boys and men have tended to dominate and operate in ways that can exclude or subordinate girls and women. Constructions of what ‘being a skateboarder’ (Abulhawa, 2017, p. 420) entails are, however, not static. Prevailing cultural norms are always open to variation as studies of skateboarding as both a subculture and official Olympic sport indicate (Schwier & Kilberth, 2019). Furthermore, skateboarding cultural norms are not always influenced by the ‘West’. It is important for researchers to engage in research on the emergence of skateboarding scenes in places like Palestine, where there can be both continuations and shifts in gender relations that shape individual’s experiences as skateboarders (Abulhawa, 2017). But as Bäckström and Nairn (2018, p. 425) argue, even in Sweden where gender equality is upheld as ‘a normative ideal’, girls and women still struggle to achieve a sense of equal space and belonging in skateboarding.

An issue that can further compound gender inequality is ‘the heterosexual male gaze’ (Bäckström & Nairn, 2018, p. 428), which refers to a type of objectification and sexualization that is observed to hinder the participation of girls and women in places like skateparks, even if they do not want to segregate. A Swedish study that investigated young people’s perceptions of public spaces in general also revealed that girls can feel extra cautious to assert their presence in public spaces due to everyday experiences of overt sexual harassment, such as on the streets and at outdoor locations (Johansson et al., 2012).

It is important to note that in skateparks not studied by these researchers, men can be highly inclusive. But the rise of groups that offer events for women and non-binary skaters appears to be responding to a need by those skaters to have dedicated safe and supportive spaces (Willing, 2019a). Furthermore, comments online on social media accounts that sexually objectify girls and women also demonstrate how this type of ‘male gaze’, while not always present in physical spaces, can be present in virtual interactions (Keller et al., 2018).

Themes of rape culture and sexual violence are also sometimes weaved into imagery, marketing, art, music and videos of skateboarding. Examples can be found in skateboard graphics (art that is printed on the ground-facing side of a skateboard) depicting rape and domestic violence (Jenkem Staff, 2014) to derogatory terms against women in various skate merchandise (Carayol, 2014). In a study of the history of skateboarding, Borden (2019) also acknowledges that sexism and misogyny often go unchallenged and are sometimes harnessed by skate companies who try to market exclusively to boys and men. He states for example that, ‘In the mid-1990s this misogynistic tone increased. Most extreme was the company Bitch, whose 1993 logo depicted a man pointing a gun at a woman’s head’ (Borden, 2019, p. 38).

An overview of ‘some of the most offensive graphics’ in Jenkem Staff (2014) and a book on skate deck art by Carayol (2014) highlight many examples of sexual and violent art. A typical example illuminating themes of sexual violence is a graphic by enjoi Skateboards, which featured an illustrated image of a distressed woman with a broken arm in a cast with the text ‘He really does love his skateboard more than me’. A magazine advertisement by the same company featured the image of a man holding a puppet of a woman in a defensive pose, with the text ‘enjoi, where no means yes…’ (see images in petition by Klasek, 2013). However, Louie Barletta, who is the current manager of the brand, stated that the people involved in those ads were no longer with the brand, that those ads appalled him now and that his company was making efforts to be inclusive (per comms July 2020).

Recent demographics of skateboarding are becoming more reflective of various generations, genders and sexualities, ethnicities, abilities and First Nations and non-Western skate scenes (Borden, 2019; Schwier & Kilberth, 2019; Willing, 2019a, 2019b). This increasingly broader participation has drawn more attention to issues of intersectionality in skateboarding, which reflect wider calls for social change in mainstream sport and physical cultures (Pavlidis & Fullagar, 2014; Toffoletti et al., 2018). Incidents of sexual violence (such as rape), however, are argued to still be met with dismissal, inaction, avoidance and downplayed, particularly in skate circles where men are typically dominant (Dobija-Nootens, 2018; Ebeling & White, 2019).

In Borden’s (2019, p. 33) study, rape and sexual violence are recognized as a marginal yet evident feature in skateboarding’s history among high-profile skaters, with cases like Mark ‘Gator’ Rogowski given as an example. The issue of domestic violence is also revealed to be part of the personal life of well-known figures such as Duane Peters (Borden, 2019, p. 33). Bing Lui’s recent skateboarding documentary Minding the Gap (Lui, 2018) also tackles the issue of intimate partner and family violence. Through interviews in the film, harmful patterns of hegemonic masculinity are revealed, such as pressures to be dominant, a ‘bread winner’ and to avoid feeling emotions, which then become expressed through aggression and/or addiction.

Skateboarding is not a static or monolithic culture, and various attitudes and shifts are observed. This includes in studies that observe the presence of alternative and non-hegemonic masculinities in lifestyle sports including skateboarding are inclusive towards various genders and sexual minorities (Atencio et al., 2018a, 2018b; Beal, 1996; Borden, 2019; Thorpe & Olive, 2016; Willing, 2019a; Willing & Shearer, 2015). Additionally, men skateboarders have been observed to participate in broader social campaigns such as ‘Walk Against Rape’ in the West Coast of the USA (Atencio et al., 2018b). There are also groups and campaigns that are specifically dedicated to taking a stand against sexual assault and sexual harassment in skateboarding; for instance, Fatta! (www.instagram.com/faatanu) was established by skateboarders online in 2014 in Sweden and features educational posters, videos and events as well as advocating for anti-sexual violence laws.

Another example is Consent is Rad (www.instagram.com/consent_is_rad) that was launched in Malmö, Sweden at the Pushing Boarders skateboarding conference in August in 2019. With an international focus, this education-based project features photographs and videos of both elite and ordinary skateboarders holding up signs with the text ‘Consent is Rad’. Both of these groups target and are represented by a range of genders and sexualities. This diversity points to how sexual violence is not an exclusive issue to just heterosexual cis men and cis women. The overall influence and reach such groups have may, however, be limited, as they tend to be grassroots and community-run collectives rather than well-funded, formal institutions, and more research is needed to understand their impact.

There is also a critical lack of studies on how large, formal organizations enforce sanctions and institutional or legal actions against sexual violence in skateboarding. Umbrella bodies such as USA Skateboarding, SafeSport USA, Play the Game (Denmark), Sports Integrity Initiative (United Kingdom) and Sports Australia all have processes in place for addressing sexual misconduct. But research is needed to understand how effectively their codes of conduct are implemented and how they might be adapted in skateboarding organizations worldwide. Organizations such as USA Skateboarding can also face conflicts of interest, such as when Neal Hendrix, an executive member, was investigated for sexual assault (Roenigk, 2019). In October 2018, Kindstrand Nelson accused Hendrix, her former coach, of grooming and sexually abusing her from the age of 14. The case was closed by October 2019 after an investigation by SafeSports ruled there was not enough evidence. This follows the 2008 criminal case against Brian Patch who was charged with having sex with a minor, later revealed to be Kindstrand Nelson, when she was 15 (Dobija-Nootens, 2018). Both cases point to the uneven power dynamics young skateboarders can face when trying to report incidents of sexual misconduct and sexual assault (Dobija-Nootens, 2018; Ebeling & White, 2019). When boys or men are sexually assaulted by men, shame and homophobia are argued to also make them less likely to report it formally; hence, documented accounts do exist but are rare (Murrel, 2019).

Reports of ‘acquaintance rape’, and where the victim is intoxicated, are also informally reported in skateboarding communities. This issue is visible in the no consent = sexual abuse zine by a skateboarder and journalist Tessa Fox (2016). Featuring self-reported stories of individuals who discuss being sexually abused by men in the music and skateboarding scenes, the zine provides personal narrative-based insight into how girls and women in Australia and overseas often know the perpetrator, are commonly assaulted at parties of friends or in their own bedrooms and describe feeling a lack of power to talk about it openly and take formal action.

Community-level and institutional responses to real cases of sexual violence fall outside the immediate scope of this study. But the recognition of sexual violence as a part of actual skate culture, both symbolically and in proven and alleged instances, supports the relevance of this study of Kids, which depicts rape and involves related themes for discussion. Furthermore, while sexual violence is not exclusive to just skateboarding, case studies of how it is represented and portrayed—even in fictional narratives such as films—can assist with understanding certain character traits, attitudes and behaviours that underpin sexual violence.

Research Approach for the Study

The primary data for this study were the film Kids (Clarke, 1995) and its script (Korine, 1995). As a genre of skateboarding, skate videos are argued to effectively communicate the styles, language, heroes and values of the culture of skateboarding (Willing et al., 2019a, b; Yochim, 2010). While Kids is fictional, it draws heavily on cultural conventions from skateboarding videos, including the characters’ choice of skate spots, dress style and language, and featured a cast of actual teenage skateboarders (Heriot-Darragh, 2015). The characters they play in Kids are archetypes rather than autobiographical. Yet, while only symbolic, archetypes are argued to have the power to inspire a sense of connection, familiarity and affective responses in audiences (Faber & Mayer, 2009). This study is therefore limited in terms of generating insights about real people and real events. Nevertheless, Kids offers a powerful symbolic reference point for reflecting on themes of sexual violence and masculinity that, as the last section of this article outlines, are observed as realities in skateboarding yet remain critically under-explored.

Another key limitation to consider in this study is that cinematic films that portray rape as a singular event, such as in Kids, elude the ongoing effects on real victims. In an in-depth analysis of rape scenes in Hollywood films, Spallacci (2019) explains that by just depicting rape as an ‘event’, the weight of ‘traumatic memory’ felt by victims that is social, emotional and psychological is ignored. Moreover, depictions of rape rather than its after-effects are argued to distract from systemic issues that promote sexual violence and may even be complicit and reproduce them. Kids warrants such critical reflection as its narrative also focuses on the moment of rape rather than its after-effects.

One strategy that was employed in this research during the analysis phase was to consider the broader issues of sexual violence rather than considering rape as an incident that is void of broader influences and consequences. This included exploring theoretical and empirical research literature on rape and sexual violence discussed earlier in the article, plus also specific reports, reviews, videos and news stories capturing various social responses to Kids. These secondary resources were found using Google Search, Google Scholar, university and state library catalogues and ‘crowd sourcing’ using the hashtag #skatetwitter on the social media application. Other useful resources included videos featuring interviews of some of the main cast members and Korine, the writer of Kids (BaMorg, 2015; Epicly Later’d, 2017). Of particular interest were material from 2015 to 2020 that covered the 20th and 25th anniversaries of the film. This parameter allowed the research to consider responses to the film in an era where issues of consent and power are more predominant in reviews even if that is not the intended focus of such texts. The increased visibility of these issues in the media and elsewhere can be seen as influenced by social movements such as #metoo, new feminism and post feminism and youth-led and online campaigns against sexual violence (Karlsson, 2019; Keller et al., 2018; Mendes et al., 2018; Toffoletti et al., 2018).

The researcher is also an ‘insider’ who is a woman skateboarder and is one of the co-founders and facilitator of Consent is Rad and other consent awareness activities in the skateboarding community. This background allowed her to approach the topic with sensitivity to a number of nuances in skateboarding culture and the iconic status that Kids is accorded with. The film and this research were also discussed via email correspondence with John Dahlquist, the Vice Principal of Bryggeriet School (https://www.bryggeriet.org)—a skateboarding high school in Sweden—where Kids was recently screened to students aged 18–20 in a workshop on skate history. This process received ethics approval, keeping the identities of the students anonymous, and assisted with some preliminary understanding of how younger generations of skaters respond to the film. The collection of rich data on youth perspectives based on in-depth interviews and a substantial sample is lacking in this article, but it is seen as a valuable direction for future research.

The analysis for this research is based on a qualitative approach and Braun and Clarke’s (2006) guidelines to thematic analysis. The process consisted of identifying relevant units of meanings in the data, building and refining codes to create categories of significance and then developing themes and theoretical insights. Guidance was also drawn from media studies and narrative structure analysis by examining the film’s story line in chronological and sequential order and interpreting key characters for broader social meanings (Faber & Mayer, 2009; Spallacci, 2019). To assist with inter-rater reliability, the coding and final narrative analysis were also shared with two other researchers. One was a man who is a skate journalist who has been a skateboarder since the 1990s, and the other is a woman and feminist researcher who is not a skateboarder to check for researcher bias and historical inaccuracies. The analysis was also checked against relevant sports, gender and feminist literature to reflect on issues of transferability.

Film Analysis and Discussion

As the following analysis reveals, the storyline in Kids shows clear links between formations of hegemonic masculinity and rape culture and scenes of coerced and non-consensual sex which will be chronologically detailed, analysed and reflected upon. This section discusses key scenes that are described and presented in the order of the film’s narrative sequence of events. In the opening scene of Kids, we see Telly and an unnamed young girl (written as 12 years old in the script) in her bedroom. The girl appears vulnerable and cautious, which is juxtaposed with his presence, which is portrayed as predatory and manipulative. Telly, we learn as the narrative develops, calls himself a ‘virgin surgeon’ due to his pursuit of sex with virgins. The girl states she is a virgin and expresses concern that he will treat her differently if they have sex and expresses that she wants sex to be an extension of romantic connection. He assures her that he does care, that nothing will change and that he will be will gentle and not hurt her. Telly, who is unknowingly HIV positive, also insists on unprotected sex. We next see a scene where she is screaming in agony; the screen fades to black and in a voice over, and Telly states that he loves virgins, because among other things, they give him ‘pure pleasure’.

In the next scene Telly meets his friend Casper who has been drinking a bottle of alcohol while waiting for him outside the girl’s apartment block. Telly boasts to Casper about the sexual encounter, how she was ‘really young’ and that he found that arousing. Both boys rejoice in this ‘conquest’ of yet another virgin, and the girl is not seen in the film again. The next object of Telly’s sexual desire, we learn, is Darcy, who he describes to Casper as a virgin who is 13 years old and who he makes a bet that he will have sex with her that evening. Casper jokes that having sex with two virgins in the 1 day should be illegal, and the boys laugh.

Telly clearly revels in the sense of control and self-gratification these sexual encounters give him and how he conquers girls rather than seeking their active consent. These aspects of his character drive much of the storyline and illuminate hegemonic masculinity and rape culture, but also a type of ‘scary heterosexuality’ (Hubbard, 1999; Pini et al., 2013), a term used to illustrate how heterosexuality can be non-normative and morally shifting. The concept of ‘compulsory heterosexuality’ (Rich, 1980) also emphasizes social processes and structural bias towards upholding and idealizing heteronormativity as the ‘norm’ to which all other sexual orientations are measured. Through these lenses, the idea that Telly’s quest to ‘deflower’ girls is due to a ‘natural’ biological drive in men can be dismissed and instead understood through how virginity in the world portrayed on screen is socially constructed. Moreover, we are better able to understand the social rewards Telly feels when he ‘takes it’ away from girls.

The term ‘virginity’ refers to when a person has not had sexual intercourse and is critiqued as heavily ideological and historically used to maintain male power in terms of having property rights through marriage and paternity (Berger & Wenger, 1973). Historically, males have also received praise for ‘losing’ virginity or ‘taking it’, while girls and women are judged negatively. Virginity as a prerequisite and ‘passport’ to marriage is less normative now; yet, it is still symbolically linked to ideas of sexual desirability and used as a source of control, status and pleasure for men. Casper represents such admiration and envy when Telly boasts about having sex with girls he describes as being virgins. In a later scene, Telly also talks with pride about how he manipulates girls by saying he cares about them in order to further control and pressure them into sex.

The film offers other symbolic examples of how male power is upheld among boys through performances of hegemonic masculinity and compulsory heterosexuality, and how any threat is dealt with through aggression and violence. Homophobia is portrayed as a part of the boys’ strategies for social power, such as when, in a group, upon sighting two gay men on the street, one shouts at them using homophobic slurs. A following scene shows the boys violently assault a random man they have a confrontation with where they are skateboarding, taking joy in (possibly) beating him to death with skateboards and repeated kicks to the head.

As the film’s narrative progresses, Telly catches up with Darcy and spends the rest of his day flirting with her as they move about the city socializing with his friends. This includes Casper, some of the other boys, Steven and Harold, who are also skaters and two teenage girls, Joy and Kim. At a pool, while Telly takes Darcy aside, the other boys watch Joy and Kim take their clothes off until they are in their underwear and ask if they can touch them sexually. The girls refuse. One of the boys then asks if they can watch the girls kiss each other and they oblige. When one of the boys asks if they are ‘dykes’, they respond that they are not lesbians and that ‘it just feels good’. In contradiction to how they treat gay men, the three boys all express appreciation rather than homophobia, demonstrating the flexible boundaries of compulsory heterosexuality portrayed in the story. The male characters’ appreciation of non-heterosexual encounters between girls, it can be argued, are illustrative of a ‘male gaze’ which, as Bäckström and Nairn (2018, p. 428) have argued more broadly, privileges male pleasure and sexually objectifies the girls and women.

There are two occasions in the critical final scenes of the film that also provide narrative portrayals for further reflection on themes of hegemonic masculinity, rape culture and sexual violence. In this part of the narrative, Telly, Casper, Darcy and later Jennie, attend a house party. In one scene, Telly takes Darcy into a bedroom and pressures her into sex. Like the unnamed girl at the start of the film, Darcy does not say no, but clearly states she is scared. She also states that Telly is hurting her, but he persists until he is finished.

The fictional sexual encounter depicted between Telly and Darcy can usefully highlight proposed ‘grey areas’ (Demant & Bruvik Heinskou, 2011; Karlsson, 2019) of sexual consent among youth and an important window into understanding the problematic gender roles and expectations boys and girls face in their sexual encounters; for instance, gender and sex researchers (Loofbourow, 2018; McClelland, 2017) point to how prevailing outlooks on ‘good sex’ prioritize male pleasure over the negative social impacts, fear and physical pain that sex can cause girls and women. Men tend to associate ‘bad sex’ with feeling bored but can view ceasing sex mid-encounter as a form of ‘failed’ manhood based on an inability to perform sex, and in some cases, male sexual power (Loofbourow, 2018). In contrast, ‘bad sex’ as perceived by women might involve unwanted sex that is nevertheless tolerated and endured. Women may even fake gratification rather than requesting men stop so as to avoid psychological, emotional or physical confrontation (Loofbourow, 2018).

In a critical review of Kids, Chappel (2015) argues that Telly’s sexual encounter with Darcy is one of rape as she does not want to continue. The sex scene with Telly and Darcy demonstrates a clear lack of enthusiastic consent before and during sex. If we reflect on gendered notions of sex in the frameworks above (such as Loofbourow, 2018; McClelland, 2017), her portrayed powerlessness to stop it may also be unpacked through the research that argues that for girls, ‘bad sex’ is often endured out of fear of consequences. Considerations of what kinds can be drawn from how actual rape victims report fearing emotional, psychological and social consequences if they say no to unwanted sex. This ‘grey area’ of consent on screen then offers an occasion to reflect how consent can be clearly communicated and enthusiastic. The idea of making consent normative and openly discussed is also observed as central to the Consent is Rad campaign (founders interviewed by Coughlin-Bogue, 2019), in calls to action by high-profile woman skateboarders such as Kristin Ebeling and Alex White (2019) and also outside skateboarding such as by activists on university campuses (Wooten & Mitchell, 2016) and online (Keller et al., 2018).

The other main scene in the final part of Kids for reflection is between Casper and Jennie. In a room beside where Telly and Darcy fall asleep, Casper, who is intoxicated, sexually assaults Jennie who is passed out on a couch after being given a mysterious pill at a night club. Unknown to Casper, Jennie is also HIV positive (passed on from Telly). As he starts to undress her, Casper says ‘Jennie. Don’t worry. It’s me Casper’. Then, as he is raping her, she becomes semi awake and slurs the words, ‘Don’t. Please don’t. No, no’. Casper continues to rape her while saying, ‘Shh. Don’t worry Jennie. It’s me Casper’. The film soon ends with Casper waking up in the morning, still at the party, dishevelled and disorientated. He stares directly at the camera and states, ‘Jesus Christ, what happened?’

Casper’s sexual assault of Jennie can be viewed as a representation of ‘acquaintance rape’, as they are not strangers (Demant & Bruvik Heinskou, 2011). Importantly, the character of Jennie is clearly sedated and does not give consent. Casper’s assault depicts that he holds a sense of ‘entitlement’ to women’s bodies for sex, which reflects feminist scholarship that links how forms of hegemonic masculinity and rape culture are influential and can underpin individual’s decisions to rape; for instance, Keller et al. (2018, p. 27) argue such sense of male entitlement does not happen spontaneously or naturally and is instead fostered through things such as rape culture where sex is promoted as the paramount goal and where boys and men become desensitized to the idea of non-consensual sex as having consequences. The lens of rape culture also allows for a clearer understanding of ‘sexual violence as a structural rather than personal problem’ (Mendes et al., 2018, p. 238).

Importantly, Casper is portrayed earlier in the film as having likeable personal qualities and a sense of right and wrong, such as in a scene where he shows kindness to a homeless person and street busker. As Chappel (2015) explains, our impressions of him prior to the rape are that, ‘Casper is not the villain that Telly is. And yet in this final scene, it is Casper, not Telly, who is guilty of the worse crime’. Chappel (2015) also highlights that by talking ‘nicely’ to Jennie during her rape by stating his name—and telling her ‘it’s me’—Casper is portrayed as though he feels that he is doing ‘nothing wrong’, and that he is entitled to have sex with her.

The portrayal of Casper also draws attention to why caution is required to not see rapists as one-dimensional and unfamiliar; for instance, studies such as those by Martinez (2017) draw attention to how in some cases, so-called good guys do rape and Browne’s (2019) argument that ‘It is all too easy to point the finger to a cartoonish misogynist. The flip side of a spectrum of harassment for women is the reproduction and acceptance, by men, of social norms of sexism and power’.

Conclusion

The film analysis in the previous section discussed one scene that illustrates a case of a non-ambiguous rape and two other sex scenes that promote critical thinking about ‘grey areas’ in sexual encounters. The film Kids provided a way to consider interrelating themes of hegemonic masculinity, rape culture and sexual violence. The discussion moved away from biological and essentialist explanations of rape and employed a social constructionist approach guided by literature from feminism, gender and sex studies.

It is important to remember that this analysis is based on characters and scenes in a fictional film, not the real lives of the actors. ‘High’, who was a skateboarder who featured in Kids states, ‘The film portrays segregation between girls and guys, which wasn’t reality. The main point [of the film] – the whole virgin-fucking, misogynistic thing – was not necessarily how we lived our lives’ (quoted in Heriot-Darragh, 2015). According to Dahlquist (personal communication, 2020), a number of students at Bryggeriet School who saw the film suggested it negatively stereotyped skaters by only focusing on the ‘bad and extreme’. The students also made a clear distinction between ‘then’ (the 1990s) and ‘now’, and ‘them’ (the ‘bad’ type of skaters as portrayed in the film) and ‘us’ (their generation, who they felt were a positive part of society). However, Dahlquist also explained that one student expressed that the rape scene had the constructive effect of highlighting an issue that is often avoided by skateboarders. Future research directions could include screenings of the film followed by in-depth interviews or focus groups with young adult skateboarders on how they interpret the film today, and what impact it may have on their ideas about consent.

As skateboarding matures, we need to acknowledge that the existing support system tends to fail the survivors of sexual assault. Too often accusers aren’t believed, and their accounts are discredited by those in positions of power. Even more often, the stigma around discussing these issues results in them going unreported, sometimes leading to mental issues, addiction, self-harm, and other long-term trauma for the affected. (Murrell, 2019)

While hard to quantify, sexual violence is observed to exist in skateboarding, and strategies to ensure skateboarders are more aware, critically reflective and active in creating safe environments are still lacking. A key recommendation from this research is that screenings and discussions about the film Kids, combined with the availability of promotional material about consent, could be a part of future skateboarding outreach and education programmes, and within other parts of the culture such as events. There is also a need to acknowledge the after-effects of rape that can include ‘traumatic memory’, something that Spallacci (2019) warns films about rape avoid or erase when it is only treated as a singular moment or ‘event’. Accordingly, more research is needed not only on preventing acts of sexual violence in the skateboarding community through stronger education and information about consent, but also the kinds of care and support that might be needed or able to be more effectively provided to victims now and throughout their life course.