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Abstract

In South Africa, the spatial divides established through colonialism and apartheid still structure public space. Access to recreational space and space to play remains unequal in townships and informal settlements where people face significant challenges in accessing basic resources and live with everyday threats to their safety and wellbeing. In this article I demonstrate how maintained divides still limit movement in Cape Town as well as increase potential exposure to discrimination and violence. Empirically, I discuss participant experiences of skateboarding, establishing skateboarding parks, and skateboarding programmes and groups. Through participant narratives I demonstrate how skateboarders and skate programmes have created social connection and access to recreational space and public space in Cape Town. At the same time, I highlight how entrenched divides and socioeconomic dynamics infringe on structurally marginalised residents’ capability to exercise the right to the city. In summary, I outline that through these encounters and support networks skateboarders create new communities and exercise their right to the city.

Keywords

the right to the city skateboarding public space inequity Cape Town

Introduction

In South Africa, communities living in townships and informal settlements face significant barriers in accessing basic resources as well as spatial barriers to accessing education, employment, and safe spaces for sport and recreation. While the transition to democracy occurred over 30 years ago racialised socio-economic inequalities persist. Despite the significant involvement of civil society in securing the end of apartheid the transition moved the epicentre of politics ‘from the people to the state’ (Neocosmos, 1996: 77). This transition co-occurred with economic neoliberalism and the right to the city increasingly held by private interests (Fourie, 2022; Harvey, 2013: 23-4). Neoliberalism has exacerbated spatial injustice in Cape Town driving up housing costs and displacing more people further outside of the city centre, replicating the displacement of the system of apartheid. Spatial inequality in Cape Town also unfolds at proximity and there are numerous examples of more affluent areas adjacent to townships and informal settlements with significant disparities in safety, quality of housing, and access to water, sanitation, and hygiene facilities (WASH) (McFarlane and Silver, 2017). In these spaces young people are particularly vulnerable and are more likely to experience gang violence (Lindegaard, 2017). Colonial occupation in South Africa was a form of necropower enacted through the establishment of racialised boundaries and arbitrary hierarchies that increased risk of harm and proximity to death (Mbembé, 2003: 25). The ongoing spatial inequity in Cape Town is intrinsically tied to colonialism and apartheid as racialised geographies of inequity are maintained within the neoliberal city (Clarno and Vally, 2023: 3439-40). This infrastructural divide reflects ‘politics, power relations and the production of inequality’ which reproduces barriers to accessing city space as well as resources (Truelove and Cornea 2020: 233). This dispossession increases the likelihood of death for some which Banerjee conceptualises as ‘neocapitalism’ (2008: 1548). In the context of Cape Town, this is identifiable through the way in which access to basic resources and the provision of utilities are still shaped by the apartheid era divisions (McFarlane and Silver, 2017: 126). While access to water and water services have improved in some townships and informal settlements, in many more there remains a persistent lack of access to basic resources which exacerbates individual risk and mortality (Banerjee, 2008: 1551). Infrastructural neglect and structural violence also impact on other elements of basic service delivery with informal settlements and townships particularly vulnerable to flooding due to poor infrastructure (Joubert and Martindale, 2013: 16). This results in an increased risk of illnesses from escaped sewage or damp and mould as well as higher risks of electric shocks or fires that can spread quickly in informal settlements (ibid: 16-19).

The variability of infrastructure in townships and informal settlements also extends to a lack of accessible recreational space, sometimes due to a lack of access to facilities or safe transport. Young people living in townships, in particular, face significant barriers to accessing recreational spaces as well as accessing the wider city. When young people living in these areas can attend school, they do so within one of the most unequal education systems in the world often having to travel long distances (Amnesty International, 2020: 7). The above conditions result in a restriction of movement either due to cost, time, or safety concerns. This differential mobility can be seen through variables of mobility and access to the city space whereby ‘some initiate flows and movement, others don’t, some are more on the receiving-end of it than others; some are effectively imprisoned by it’ (Massey, 1991: 26). Within the gap of state support and community needs, community led programmes as well as Non-Governmental Organisations (NGOs) and Non-profit Organisations (NPOs) in Cape Town often provide access to recreational space and different sports (Höglund and Sundberg, 2008; Schulenkorf et al., 2016). Globally there are an increasing number of skateboarding focused programmes that aim to empower young people living in poverty and conflict, such as Skate Pal in Palestine¹ and Skateistan among others. Notably, some sport for development programmes can be critiqued as reaffirming the hegemony of the Global North instead of contributing to long lasting systemic justice and equality (Saavedra, 2020: 212). At the same time, such programmes often provide vital day to day support where there is gap of state support. Through a mixed methods study based in Cape Town, Sorsdahl et al. (2021: 20) identified that a skateboarding programme organised for young people living in townships provided ‘physical, emotional, and social benefits’ to the those who participated. Other research into the benefits of skateboarding in different contexts also evidence the mental health benefits of skateboarding for women and girls (Paechter et al., 2024) as well as the wider social support of skateboarding in skateparks (Walker et al., 2016).

Through participant narratives, I present skateboarding as a social activity and a form of movement that creates different opportunities for engagement with city space but also as a means of forming new communities. The first part of the title of this article is a quote from one of the participants who described the role of skateboarding as opening ‘a whole new world’ for young people who came to informal skate sessions (Gloria, Interview, 2020). From skateboarding programmes for young people to skateboarding interest groups and skateparks, these spaces bring people together in community that counters the socially fragmented city space. At the same time, these spaces can also be a prism that reflects local and international tensions with participants also discussing barriers to accessing certain spaces, discrimination, and tensions over who is welcome and where. In this article I present ongoing restrictions to movement as a barrier to exercising the right to the city while also demonstrating how people change the city space through skateboarding and skate groups.

My interest in skateboarding stems from my interest in surfing. Skateboarding evolved from surfing, the origins of the latter are traceable to ancient Polynesia as an Indigenous practice with spiritual dimensions. As a form of movement that facilitates engagement with the urban context skateboarding is of particular relevance in a (post-)colonial city where movement is frequently restricted. The majority of the research for this article took place in the early years of the COVID-19 pandemic during travel restrictions and bans. The potential impact of the virus was not known, and the global distribution and availability of the vaccine was starkly unequal. Participant involvement in the research was opportunity based and I contacted potential participants² based on their work with community spaces, with young people within NGOs or NPOs, or their work on mobility or social justice activism. Interviews typically lasted between 45 minutes to an hour and included questions on their experiences in the city and in their work or volunteer work dependent on the background of the participant. I used thematic analysis to focus the contribution of this article on individuals who discussed skateparks as a part of public space or who facilitated formal or informal skateboarding groups. Raafe and Harry both worked in urban placemaking and design. Saafir, Britney, Wandile, Fred, Gloria, and Max collectively established a skatepark as a group of skateboarders in Hout Bay. Zane and Ben are both skateboarders and both worked in different skate organisations in townships in Cape Town. Matteo is a city planner, skateboarder, and has co-led skate lessons with his partner as well as organising skateboarding based public space orientated events. Cecilia led the establishment of a queer skate group which regularly runs informal meetups, social events, and solidarity skate sessions at different skateparks around the city. Skating was discussed by participants as an activity that took place on walkways, streets, and in skateparks across the city with two in the city centre, one in the Eastern suburbs, one on the Atlantic Seaboard, and one on the West Coast of the municipality. Through participant narratives of the city and of skating, I demonstrate how movement and use of skate spaces provide opportunities for diverse groups to meet and exercise their right to the city. While the discussions intersect, I discuss the narratives through the following sections: Spatial divides and skateboarding in the city, and Community, wellbeing, and connection. In the next section I discuss the relevance of access to recreational space and how time for leisure and play support individual capabilities to exercise the right to the city.

Skateboarding, play and the right to the city

During apartheid, legislation denied the majority of South Africans access to sport and recreational spaces. This included restricted access to beaches and forced removals of people racialised as Black and “Coloured”³ from seaside communities with the ‘best access to the city’s commercial, leisure and sporting spaces, including the beach reserved for whites’ (Simon’s Town Museum, 2024; Thompson, 2011: 2119). Following the end of apartheid the Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP) highlighted the way in which apartheid restricted access to sport and recreation and how this prevented young people from enjoying a healthy life (1994: 74). Sport became a key area of symbolic reconciliation and addressing the longstanding disparity of access was a core goal of the Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP) (1994: 13). As noted in the RDP, access to sport and leisure spaces are integral to health and wellbeing. In the post-apartheid context of South Africa both access to sport, recreation, and time for wider wellbeing and health are dependent on community and place. In South Africa, anti-apartheid movements campaigned for the right to the city in practice as they contested legislation which restricted movement, use, and access to city space. Though the end of apartheid led to the transition to democracy and removed social and economic legislative barriers, structurally minoritised communities still experience obstacles in accessing the city space. To understand the extent to which spatial injustice is also temporal injustice in the city it is important reflect on what the experience of mobility actually looks like for people or how people move through the city (Frith, 2012: 134). In Cape Town, people living in lower income households spend more time and money on travel when compared to higher income households (Morilly and Behrens, 2021: 1, 12). In combination with this, the longer travel times and costs also have a detrimental social impact which increases the risk of social exclusion (ibid). In the border context of South Africa, it can be argued that access to land and housing are an integral part of securing the right to the city, for example with the District Six land restitution campaign, and through housing activism in the city such as the work of Reclaim the City and Ndifuna Ukwazi among others (District Six Museum, 2025; Forde et al., 2021). The way in which spatial inequality in Cape Town results in extended travel time required to access work, education, or recreational and social spaces can be understood as a barrier to exercising the right to the city (Harvey, 2008: 23).

Skateboarding can be argued to be well suited to expanding access to space or creating new forms of movement by challenging norms in city spaces. Vivoni and Folsom-Fraster in particular discuss the creativity of skateboarders as introducing novel spatial interpretations and representing the ‘democratic potential of the street’ (2021: 315). Similarly, Pugalis et al. (2016: 131) frames skateboarders as ‘urban explorers’ who can create a playground within cityscapes which are designed for other purposes such as private businesses or spaces of commerce (Woolley and Johns, 2001). Whether practiced as a form of recreation or sport, skateboarders transform infrastructure through movement and their reinterpretation of urban architecture such as stairs and banisters, among other city textures (Tonkiss 2005: 144). Through this creativity and engagement with space, Atkinson and Wilson (2002: 386) underscore skateboarding as a form of ‘empowerment through movement’ and Willing and Pappalardo (2023: 265) highlight the unique potential of skateboarders to challenge norms. The capability of skateboarding-based movement to facilitate wider movement and use of space as well as transform urban spaces is intrinsically linked to the right to the city. Lefebvre (1996: 179) first conceptualised the right to the city and emphasised the importance of engagement with urban life and ‘the need for social life [as well as] the need and the function of play’. Castañeda (2020: 60-2, 67) also underscored the relevance of fun or play by demonstrating how people exercise the right to the city by through playful movement and cycling activism in Bogotá. Play and time for leisure are well established acts that may be liberatory, subversive, or sometimes a means of resistance (Shepard, 2012: 8, 57; Budd, 2001; Woroniecka-Krzyzanowska, 2020). In terms of challenging spatial segregation, Lefebvre (1996: 154) emphasised that the working class are the only actors able to ‘put an end to a segregation directed essentially against it’. Similarly, Haas (2020, 42) outlines the right to the city in Palestine as people-led ‘a political class struggle to de-colonise everyday life’. Harvey (2008: 23) also foregrounds the primacy of people-led engagement and change and discusses the right to the city as a common right that involves the exercise of collective power and ‘a right to change ourselves by changing the city’. In addition to this, Romero and Miles (2025: 221-222) highlight the importance of collective action and change and emphasise the potential for skateboarding education to create new worlds with ‘Indigenous worldviews that actively maintain intersubjective bonds based on reciprocity and responsibility’. The centrality of reciprocity and responsibility is also inherent in Attoh’s (2011: 677) discussion of the right to the city as a right to collective power that must also be ‘a right against unjust collective decisions’ wherein minoritised communities’ rights are protected and respected. The above discussions of the potential of skateboarding as a means of change and community coupled with the framing of the right to the city as a collective power provide a critical point of departure for this article in exploring how skateboarders exercise their right to the city.

In this article, I utilise the right to the city as a concept that concerns the right to access city space and the capability to transform space through movement and social connections. Through narratives of skateboarding and accessing skate spaces, I discuss the potential of play and recreational movement as a mode of exercising the right to the city and as a way of countering spatial segregation through collective power (Harvey, 2008: 23). In the following section, I present participant narratives of access to skateparks and public space, how skateboarding transformed access to the city for some participants and how others experienced boundaries and spatial divides in the city.

Spatial divides and skateboarding in the city

Across South Africa the availability and accessibility of safe recreational spaces is starkly unequal (Venter et al., 2020). In townships and informal settlements access to space for leisure is more restricted or parks are poorly maintained (Willemse and Donaldson, 2012). In terms of access to recreational space, participants discussed barriers such as distance, poor transport links, a lack of public lighting, or limited access to facilities. The poor availability of recreational space and sport facilities has a direct link to the capability of young people to access such services which are essential for wellbeing and health. The majority of participants discussed the need for better access to safe public space and space for sport across the municipality. These concerns extended to skateparks with participants highlighting issues with the maintenance and accessibility of some parks.

‘We do have a skatepark, the one I mentioned that wasn’t built well, that one is not central at all that one is on the edge of Atlantis, in one of the, or in one of the more likely dangerous areas of Atlantis. […] Every skater knows what that park feels like- horrible!’ (Zane, Interview, 2022; emphasis by participant)

‘[the skatepark under the bridge] gets unsafe at night and when people leave the park like we have to be very conscious, “okay we’re the last people and we are all like queer presenting and we need to get out of here.” We always check that everyone has a way home.’ (Cecilia, Interview, 2024)

For Zane, the quality of his local skatepark as well as the location were major criticisms while for Cecilia the safety of the city centre skatepark was time dependent. Cecilia also discussed issues of the upkeep and maintenance but noted that the skate group often see some ‘older skaters’ picking up litter and taking care of the park (Interview, 2024). Notably the safety of some of the parks is time dependent as with many public spaces but this came with an additional concern for Cecilia and the group who are queer presenting. This reflects the way in which people with marginalised identities in different global contexts often have the additional burden of planning out or restricting their movement for the purposes of safety (Pain, 1997). In discussing the same location, Matteo reflected on the establishment of this park which had previously doubled as a shelter space for unhoused people.

‘It came at a cost of the homeless people that used to sleep under the bridge, the city had used skateboarding to clean up the area, so they had used the skatepark to activate the area so that the homeless people would not have a place to be […] following that project, I’ve dealt with so many councillors wanting a skatepark because they’ve had issues with the homelessness in the area.’ (Interview, 2022)

This particular example demonstrates the way in which public space may be designed or maintained for a particular group over another and the way in which spatial strategies to ‘activate’ space can be used to displace others. The term ‘activate’ as an urban place-making strategy involves creating use of a space for a particular purpose. Morrow and Shields (2020: 2) emphasise that activated spaces should give back to their communities and ideally also involve community members in the design process. The tenson between the use of the space as activated or disused also reflects Attoh’s discussion of the right to the city and the risk that the right to collective power and a right against unjust collective decisions may conflict in certain contexts (2011: 677). Through creating different movement and use of space, Matteo highlights how the establishment of the skatepark was utilised as a strategy to dissuade use of the space as a shelter. More commonly the dispossession of unhoused people comes in the form of spikes, slanting ledges, segmenting bench arm rests as well as criminalising rough sleeping (Single Homeless Project, 2024; Petty, 2016; Western Cape Provincial Gazette, 2022: 1351-2). Hostile architecture estranges unhoused people from engaging with public space and sets a narrative of who can use what space, when, and how. Similarly, activation of public space sets a certain narrative of expectation of use which Kudla (2024: 564) frames as prioritising an ‘aesthetically pleasing environment’ over acknowledging socio-spatial injustice.

In contrast, those with the capabilities to engage in commercial spaces are encouraged to spend time in malls, shopping complexes, and these ‘public/private’ spaces for as long as possible (Miraftab, 2007: 603). Across the city, a key space of public/private land in the city is The Victoria and Alfred Waterfront (V&A). The V&A Waterfront is a colonial historic port ‘redeveloped’ by a consortium of international property developers in 2006 with a renovated Victorian aesthetic, it is also more recently home to a popular skatepark (Ferreira and Visser, 2007: 228). Named after deceased members of the British Royal Family, the Waterfront is one of the largest shopping complexes in the city and attracts a high footfall of visitors (Harry, Interview, 2019). As well as being a tourist hotspot, the waterfront hosts the ‘Nelson Mandela Gateway to Robin Island’ which is the transport hub for the former prison island bringing visibility to the historical violence of the space. The V&A Waterfront has numerous free activities and forms of entertainment in public spaces from buskers to public art exhibitions which encourage visitors to stay in the space (Harry, Interview: 2019). Due to the appeal of such spaces, shopping malls can facilitate wider social use of city spaces including that which might ‘cross’ socio-spatial boundaries (Aceska and Heer, 2019; Forde, 2018; Shtern, 2016). Nevertheless, the waterfront, like most spaces in the city, reflects the spatial injustice that has persisted in the post-apartheid era. Typically, hygiene and security personnel who work in the V&A shopping centre live in townships such as Khayelitsha (New Home in isiXhosa) and face long commutes due to poor public transport infrastructure (Harry, Interview, 2019). This dynamic demonstrates why it is important to understand the power and choice behind movement or how people can move through city space as well as the impact this has on possible movement for recreation or social connection (Frith, 2012: 134; Morilly and Behrens, 2021). These spatial and social dynamics of differential mobility are emblematic of the way racialised divisions persist in the neoliberal era.

A recent expansion of the waterfront led to the excavation of a colonial military battery which led to the establishment of Battery Park. The park bridges the central business district and the waterfront, it is free to access and is home to a skatepark, basketball court, and picnic area. Several participants discussed the park positively and noted that it draws a diverse crowd of skateboarders with some participants also regarding it as well-built and better than skateparks in their communities (Raafe, Interview, 2019; Ben, Interview, 2022; Zane, Interview, 2022). While being a diverse space, some participants also critiqued the park as an overly sanitised space due to its location (Cecilia, 2024).

‘it’s shit man that’s erasure, it’s such a sordid space, like instead of encountering the history and heritage of that space […] they shroud the heritage in these things.’ (Matteo, Interview, 2022)

However, Battery Park skatepark held significant appeal for younger skaters who travelled with friends on public transport to the park. For some, this was a new pattern of movement that participants viewed as linked to new social networks formed through involvement in skateboarding groups.

‘The kids from Atlantis [established during apartheid as an area for people racialised as Coloured] take the MyCiti bus now to go skate at the V&A waterfront, skate in Cape Town. So, skateboarding has connected them, and it became this portal out of their communities […] they spend hours and hours at Battery Park. So that’s what skateboarding does, it became a gateway for most of the kids.’ (Ben, Interview, 2022)

‘a lot of the Imizamo Yethu kids [this area was established during aparthied as an area for people racialised as Black] and the valley kids [the valley was designated as a residential area for people categorised as white] have become such good friends that they actually have sleepovers, they play PlayStation together, they spend time together, they go to the waterfront skatepark […] So, we helped them to get money on their public transport cards and they then go together to other skateparks in Cape Town. So, what we’ve seen is that it’s opened up a whole new world to them.’ (Gloria, Interview, 2020)

The above narratives of friendship and exploration demonstrate the way in which new social connections can create new patterns of movement and how through play young people can exercise their right to the city. This also demonstrates the wider support that skatepark organisers provide by helping young people get money on transport cards. The majority of participants discussed skateboarding as an inclusive activity, or one that could be made so through adaptive skateboarding and creating intentionally inclusive skate groups or spaces (Ben, Interview, 2022). In particular, participants reflected on how skateboarding was a foundation of personal friendships as well as new communities.

‘Skateboarding is such an inclusive sport […] the sport has never discriminated anyone on skin colour, on their ability, on their gender, it has always been to bring people from all walks of life together, and that’s what makes skateboarding so special.’ (Ben, Interview, 2022)

‘When we were younger you would find these relationships were happening because people shared a common passion of skateboarding it would transcend the racial demographics these um different age groups, boy and girl, and we were actually just skater kids.’ (Max, Interview, 2020)

‘We naturally became friends after some time, […] and some of the kids from the informal settlements would skate with us sometimes and it would be the same, this Rainbow Nation, different background kids skating together, just a beautiful image of what South Africa is all about […] I myself come from that background where I didn’t have much and I can truly say that skateboarding was the one thing that helped me […]’ (Saafir Interview, 2020)

In the above quotations the importance of proximity and access to local spaces of recreation and sports can be identified as creating opportunities to interact and potentially form new communities with people from diverse backgrounds. While the group in Hout Bay noted the new friendships formed between young people from Imizamo Yethu (Our collective effort in isiXhosa) and the young people from the valley, they also reflected on some tensions between young people from Hangberg and those from Imizamo Yethu. Hout Bay or Houtbaai (Wood Bay in Dutch) is a small valley on the Atlantic seaboard. Hangberg is a township that sits on one side of the valley and was established through the Group Areas Act of 1950 that designated the space as a ‘Coloured’ area. People categorised as ‘Coloured’ were displaced from the village to the slopes of the valley but were retained in the same area to work in the nearby lumber and fishing industries (SA History, 2024). Imizamo Yethu was established in the early 1990s to displace predominately Black African residents who had been living in informal housing around the village (SA History, 2023). The centre of the valley is home to a predominately white community, with the adjacent but segregated communities reflecting the broad racialised separation in South Africa. The communities of Hangberg and Imizamo Yethu notably face multiple stressors with high rates of crime, violence, inequity, and resource scarcity. In combination with this De Greef (2014: 86) noted tensions around resource allocation with some residents of Hangberg believing that Imizamo Yethu received preferential treatment and political favouritism post-apartheid, one example of this being in fisheries quotas. With the skatepark located close to Imizamo Yethu some participants noted that the proximity of the skatepark strengthened feelings of ownership and responsibility among the young people. This community also had greater ease of access to the space comparative to young people from Hangberg who had to walk further and sometimes across busy roads to access the park.

‘It’s a bit sad that the integration between Hangberg and the Imizamo Yethu kids are not as successful, but I also think that there really is a lot of other issues there that would be very difficult for us to address. It’s systematic and historic grudges between the communities […] but obviously we do try to create a safe space for them to integrate. I think kids will be kids and territorial fights have been something that have been going for many years and it’s not always necessarily a racial fight I would not put it down to a racial fight, it’s very much territorial.’ (Gloria, Interview, 2020)

‘That kind of stuff just takes time so the more time they’re rubbing shoulders together the more they will be friends so that kind of stuff just takes time.’ (Fred, Interview, 2020)

In this example the space of the skatepark helped create friendships between young people from Imizamo Yethu and the ‘valley kids’ who travel to other skateparks together and at the same time it has also been a space of negotiation, with conflict between the young people from Imizamo Yethu and Hangberg (Gloria, Interview, 2020). The tensions between these young people born after the end of apartheid demonstrate the longstanding impact of the apartheid era residential segregation and the stressors of scarcity and poverty. Fundamentally, the main barrier to accessing the park for young people from Hangberg are logistical and safety-based which demonstrates the way infrastructure which can restrict movement and use of the city space, as well as importance of understanding power dynamics within mobility (Frith, 2012: 134; Massey, 1991: 26).

The limitation of movement or liminal boundaries within the city also emerged in Matteo’s discussion of his experiences skateboarding in Cape Town. Matteo felt that his experiences in the city were inseparable from the spatial and social divide and noted that some public space such as Sea Point still lack diversity (Interview, 2022). Sea Point is an affluent residential suburb on the Atlantic seaboard which was a designated as a ‘white’ area during apartheid with the bathing pavilion leisure space also designated as a ‘whites Only’ amenity. Today, the promenade has play facilities, green spaces, ocean views, and art installations. In an effort to develop the inclusivity of the space, Matteo and his friends set up a skate event in this area to challenge not only perceptions of skaters as a ‘nuisance’ but also the perceptions ‘of people of colour in those spaces’ (Interview, 2022). While the group still meets up, Matteo felt that the programme had been taken over by ‘privileged life kind of kids’ and the initial purpose of the group had been diluted (ibid).

‘it still is seen in many ways as a white activity, a white boys activity, and I sort of had to overcome some of those challenges as a Brown person in the city […] my wife who also skates, and she’s a Brown woman, she always makes me aware that she wouldn’t go and skateboard on the [Sea Point] promenade with that group because it’s not for her. So, race does play a massive factor in this, if you speak to any white skateboarder in South Africa, they will say “Race doesn’t play an issue in skateboarding we all love each other”, they also say the same thing about gender and they say, “Oh no we don’t have any gender issues”. But the reality is, it does.’ (Interview, 2022)

More recently different skate groups in the city meet at the promenade including Queer Skate Cape Town and Skate for Palestine. However, access and belonging in the city can be framed as temporal and variable. As well as experiencing exclusion in Sea Point, Matteo also reflected on racialised barriers he had personally experienced elsewhere in the city and discussed how racialised dynamics of access and power unfold in public space.

‘We were teaching skateboarding in an affluent area, generally to less privileged kids who were the children of domestic workers who lived in the area […] the kids that were skating they were often hassled by the securities or hassled by the police or the very affluent residents that didn’t like to see Black kids in their spaces. And what became really apparent to me was that those residents, police, and securities were emboldened by this perception but also strengthened by the legislation that was in place, so there was a by-law in the city of Cape Town around public streets and nuisance by-law […] this by-law, like many legislations in South Africa, is based on preference and prejudice, right. Who has power in the city and what they don’t like to see in the city.’ (Interview, 2022)

As a result of the by-law Matteo noted that he had been fined and had his board confiscated. The same by-law that prohibits the use of skateboards on public roads without permission also criminalises rough sleeping and other associated activities necessary when there is no access to WASH facilities ((Western Cape Provincial Gazette, 2022: 1351-3). While both have the potential to be criminalised, in some spaces skateboarding is endorsed and also used to generate movement that in turns limits unhoused peoples use of space. Matteo’s personal experiences also reflect the way in which security and private citizens uphold boundaries and monitor public space as well as the way in which skateboarding embodies a culture that is oppositional ‘towards (colonial) authority and the contested politics of space’ (Romero and Miles, 2025: 228). In contrast with Matteo’s experiences in affluent or predominantly ‘white’ neighbourhoods, Ben and Zane both discussed skateboarding as a hassle-free form of transport in townships.

‘For me it became a shield because I could walk through the township with my skateboard and no one would really bother with me, no one would really harass me, especially the gangsters. Because yeah you become invisible or you become this cool figure, people are less firm to ask you for money. Cause that’s what they ask you every day; “Don’t you have money for me? Don’t you have two rand or five rand?” So as soon as I started skating, I could see myself on this magic carpet just flying past all that, navigating through my community without harassment. So now when a gangster sees me, he will ask me to either do a kick flip or a trick for him, the first thing he would have asked me if I didn’t have my skateboard would be “What’s the time?” to check if I have a phone to see if he could mug me.’ (Ben, Interview, 2022)

Ben’s experience underscores the proximity to violence he experiences in townships as well as how he felt skateboarding changed the way gangsters interacted with him and reduced the likelihood he would encounter violence (Interview, 2022). Both Matteo’s and Ben’s experiences demonstrate how other residents can uphold and reinforce spatial boundaries and limit movement. Depending on the context skateboarders were seen as a nuisance or a novelty. At the same time, across different city spaces these two accounts demonstrate how people who are racialised encounter barriers in their everyday movement as well as experiencing greater proximity to both structural and physical violence across the municipality.

While some participants also discussed wider usage of skateboarding as an affordable form of transport the implications of the nuisance by-law as well as car centred transport infrastructure means that the potential for skateboarding as a form of transport is restricted (Wandile, Interview, 2020; Ben, Interview, 2022; Matteo, Interview, 2022). Through these narratives it is clear that skateboarding facilitated opportunities to explore the city. In some examples, this brought skateboarders into proximity with others who monitored movement and attempted to control the use of space. The varying ways in which skateboarding facilitated wider movement or led to the restriction of movement depended on the community space and others present. While some skate spaces had been established with the intention of inclusivity, the social and racialised divisions stemming from apartheid still permeate skateboarding in a way that is space-time dependent. However, it is through skateboarding and wider movement that skateboarders collectively set the intentionality of the use of space and challenge spatial narratives in the city through their movement. It is in such encounters that rigid ideas of power and control over space may be challenged. In the following section, I explore the influence of skateboarding on community, wellbeing, and social connections in relation to the right to the city.

Community, wellbeing, and connection

Skateparks and skate events create fixed and temporary spaces that draw diverse crowds to the same location. In some spaces, this convergence has led to new communities and support networks that extend beyond skateboarding. One example of this is the skatepark established in Hout Bay. The group that came together to organise the space discussed the process as complex and challenging from the beginning and emphasised the high level of engagement and consistency with local communities needed to build relationships (Max, Interview, 2020; Britney, Interview, 2020). During the construction of the skatepark the team experienced context specific challenges such as a drought impacting on water supply for the concrete, crime near the planned space, and threats from unhoused people who wanted a buy-in or job in the park (Britney, Interview, 2020). This latter issue can be compared to the city centre skatepark in terms of the tension between potential uses of public space in a context where many people live without adequate housing or shelter. After a shack fire in Imizamo Yethu the team also provided financial and practical support with the land planned for the park turned into a temporary housing site for displaced families (Britney, Interview, 2020). Through this the organisers demonstrated the priority of the immediate needs of the community as well as their collective responsibility within the wider Hout Bay community. This community dynamic was also identified as important for the young people who attended the skateboarding group. Participants in Hout Bay who organised these sessions discussed how they had trialled a structured programme similar to ones organised by NGOs and NPOs but found that the young people attending the skatepark preferred the informal social dynamics and the community connection.

‘The kids were incredibly unhappy because the [informal] sessions just didn’t happen, but again for me it highlighted the importance of the social cohesions and belonging somewhere and feeling seen and being part of a community as a whole’ was the main draw of the skate group.’ (Gloria, Interview, 2020)

This social and community-based approach to skateboarding sessions reflects the potential Romero and Miles outline in terms of anti-colonial skate pedagogy to ‘uplift forms of learning that encourage people to work for the people’ (2025: 239-40). In contrast, Matteo discussed internationally organised skate programmes in general and how such programmes were often agenda based, orientated on employability or faith, with some programmes lacking sustainability and wider awareness of community needs. When discussing one programme organised in South Africa Matteo felt that the programme was ‘positioning little Black kids to be saved’ and that the introduction of skateboarding had an impact on the community farming practices resulting in a cost to the community (Interview, 2022). These criticisms around international and local dynamics of these programmes reflect the argument that sport and development are interwoven with colonial legacies (Saavedra, 2020: 212). While the participants who had worked for local and international organisations discussed different positive experiences and opportunities that they had personally experienced through the programmes they also reflected on organisational strains. Both Ben and Zane reflected on the pressures they felt due to higher student-to-staff ratios and the emotional strain of supporting young people living in multi-stressed households and communities. Fundamentally, while these programmes provide an important space for support for young people, they do so within a socially and spatially unequal (post-)colonial context with uneven local and international dynamics and differential mobility.

Several participants noted the immediacy of the gap of support and the everyday vulnerabilities of young people living in townships and informal settlements face. Some participants discussed how these young people generally had weak support systems and faced greater vulnerabilities such as parents struggling with substance misuse or engaging with gangs. As a result, young people often assume caring responsibilities at home including arranging meals for younger siblings (Gloria, Interview, 2020).

‘Us being there giving that space to do their homework and study provides for them. They don’t get that support at home, […] their parents are probably teenagers or very, very young. […] we have parents that maybe are gangsters as well, we have siblings that are gangsters.’ (Ben, Interview, 2022)

‘No parental role models, that’s the real pandemic.’ (Wandile, 2020)

The skate groups organised for young people notably provided an important space for recreational time and play outside of the home, as well as providing a community of support. The gap of support at home can be argued to be an extension of spatial injustice with parents and care givers often travelling long distances to work or being absent due to their own vulnerabilities. Within this gap, and within multi-stressed communities, young people are particularly vulnerable to coercion and gang involvement as gang members often provide food, security, financial support, and even affection for young people (Ben, Interview, 2022).

‘I also grew up in a township, I wanted to become a gangster, I begged the gangsters to make me one, because I wanted to be like them, […] it gives you a sense of belonging. With the friends I grew up with we were experimenting with crystal meth and doing all these stupid things and my friend got really deep into and they became this mirror for me […] Then there were these [skateboarders] and the more I hung with them the more I felt better about myself.’ (Ben, Interview, 2022)

‘Skateboarding is really something that keeps a lot of kids from causal nonsense, doing drugs, joining gangs, ‘cause you’ll never see a guy with a skateboard in with a group of gangsters.’ (Zane, Interview, 2022).

As discussed earlier, Ben began to use skateboarding as a means of avoiding harassment, this can be contrasted to the allure of gangs and gangsterism he experienced when he was younger. Despite being in proximity to gangsters still, he felt that he has transformed into ‘this whole new being’ by integrating skateboarding into his life (Ben, Interview, 2022). In different contexts other skateboarders also reflected on the transformative effect skateboarding had in their lives and for their own personal confidence, self-perception, creativity, and problem-solving capabilities.

‘I myself come from that background where I didn’t have much and I can truly say that skateboarding was the one thing that helped me become who I am today like, opened up my eyes and broadened my horizon.’ (Saafir, Interview, 2020)

‘You land a trick once and miss it one hundred times. And learning that you’re progressing even if it doesn’t feel like it […] And it’s just a release also, so like yeah if you’re struggling in other things, it’s that rise in endorphins.’ (Cecilia, Interview, 2024)

‘It was just bliss, it was something I could do, and I didn’t need others, I didn’t need to prove to anybody that I’m doing this. You could fail and still see a positive outlook.’ (Zane, Interview, 2022)

In particular, several participants who described living in townships or coming from a background where they ‘didn’t have much’ discussed their involvement and experiences through skateboarding as transformative of their social circle as well as in terms of their personal wellbeing (Saafir, Interview, 2020). Through engaging in skateboarding the participants were connected to a wider network either through peer groups, community work, or organised skate programmes, which expanded their friendship groups and network of support. This materialised in diverse ways dependent on the space, from programme organisers and mentors to non-hierarchical dynamics of community and support. While the structure of community engagement differed between formal and informal skate spaces both provided social connection and support. Both formal and informal skate programmes operating between the gap of state support and can be argued to provide an important social space for young people outside of the home or school based educational spaces. The informal skate group in Hout Bay is an important example of community care and connection that has the potential to create new support networks and opportunities for use and access of public space. For the young people attending skate groups, the community created through these spaces offer an alternative space and social points of contact outside of day-to-day responsibilities and pressures. In other groups and spaces, skate events and skateboarding led to new friendships and support networks which created tangible change in the city through establishing new skateparks. The purposeful design of the informal and formal groups and spaces create an intentionality of who is “welcome” in these spaces (Matteo, Interview, 2022; Fred, Interview, 2020; Saafir, Interview, 2020; Cecilia, 2024). These initiatives demonstrate the collective power of social connections and communities which are essential in exercising the right to the city (Harvey, 2008: 23).

Conclusion

The spatial legacy of apartheid still shapes access to sport and recreational spaces in South Africa. In this article I have highlighted the barriers that still exist in terms of accessing recreational spaces and time for leisure. The main findings of this article demonstrate that the extent to which skaters might feel like they are on a ‘magic carpet’ depends on the skateboarder and the time and space of movement.

At the waterfront, the site of an old colonial military battery is now home to a popular skatepark. In the city centre, the establishment of a skatepark displaced unhoused people who had previously used the area as a shelter, while in Hout Bay unhoused people who used the land threatened the park organisers for buy-in to the project. In the same space, the skatepark became a temporary home for residents of Imizamo Yethu who were displaced by a shack fire. Over in Sea Point, Matteo discussed how a purposeful intervention he designed with friends to diversify a historically assigned ‘white area’ through skateboarding had been taken over by ‘privileged life kind of kids’ (Interview, 2022). In an affluent area, Matteo also described how young people racialised as Black had been hassled by security workers and neighbours as well as sharing his own encounters, which demonstrate how racialised spatial narratives are upheld socially and institutionally (ibid).

At the same time, informal and formal skate programmes created important opportunities for recreation and created new communities of support. In two examples, participation in skateboarding and skate groups has expanded young people’s movement and use of the wider city space opening up a ‘whole new world’ through friendships formed around skateboarding (Gloria, Interview, 2020). Ben and Zane also discussed their experiences of skateboarding as integral to their wellbeing and for Ben this meant avoiding involvement with gangs and drug misuse. Similarly, Cecilia reflected on the personal benefits she experienced through skateboarding with the queer skate group as well as the supportive nature of the group. Several participants also reflected on the inclusivity of skateboarding and how the identity of being a ‘skater kid’ transcended racialised and gendered identities (Max, Interview, 2020). Critically, skateboarding, skate programmes, or groups alone cannot dismantle transgenerational systems of inequity. For some participants, encounters in the city reaffirmed power dynamics and structures of hegemony, highlighting the complex negotiation of the right to the city (Attoh, 2011). Yet in the spatially unjust city, skateboarding communities have managed to create essential spaces for recreation which have led to new friendships and communities that provide essential support.

This research was limited by the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic, related logistical issues, and the scale of the project. Future research could include skateboarders outside of organised programmes, social groups, or activist circles to help develop a wider understanding of perceptions and experiences of skateboarding in Cape Town. Additionally, future research could explore the potential impact of a universal basic income on mobility and access to recreational space in divided and spatially unjust cities. Methodologically, future research could be collaborative, with the use of mobile methods to explore how residents in divided cities exercise the right to the city through playful movement and movement based around recreation.

In this article I have demonstrated the ongoing complexities of access and movement in Cape Town where spatial inequity still shapes infrastructure and social perceptions of space. These lingering divides continue to have a detrimental impact on opportunities and capabilities for exercising the right to the city. At the same time, amidst stagnated divisions and socio-economic challenges, skate spaces, groups, and programmes provide important social opportunities for community and support. For some, skateboarding has led to a wider exploration of the city and new friendships, for others skateboarding has increased their confidence and positive self-perception. Through explorative and intentional movement, creating new communities and regular skate meet-ups or new skateparks, skateboarders in Cape Town have exercised the right to the city by changing the city through new communities and movement.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

I am extremely grateful to the people who participated in the research for sharing their experiences and reflections. Thank you also to the reviewers and editors for their comments and feedback.

ORCID iD

Susan Forde

Funding

The author disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: The research was funded by The Leverhulme Trust ECF-2020-486.

Declaration of conflicting interests

The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Notes

Author biography

Susan Forde is a Career Development Fellow in the Department of Sociology at Durham University.

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