I’ve only recently discovered the power and joy that come from being in affinity spaces. That realization inspired me to apply to UiY and after being fortunate enough to have attended and to have engaged in community with such a richly diverse group of folks, I left feeling more empowered as a climber, an ally and an advocate. —Amy Razo, 2023 Participant
I am still processing the whole event. It was such a special place to be within a community that is so different from the climbing community we are used to in our respective local crags/gyms. It was so comfortable being around BIPOC and LGBTQIA+ people the entire week and reminded me that I was not alone! –Giselle Tungol, 2023 Participant
United in Yosemite was a soup of melanated beauty seasoned to perfection. I was so enamored by the experience that would almost forget to look around, and when I did, my I would be in awe of how much life has to offer. So grateful!—Kwasi Adusei, 2023 Participant
United in Yosemite was the highlight of my year and I plan to share my experience with other local climbers so that they too can witness and be a part of something so magical! —Jessica Uscamayta, 2023 Participant
Yosemite United was healing and rejuvenating. – Erica Rodriguez, 2023 Participant
Because in Yosemite, it's the big walls that should be intimidating, not the community.
With an array of climbing, clinics, vendors, art, presentations, and community time, United in Yosemite (UiY) might at first glance look like your typical climbing festival. But talking to participants and organizers about what it was truly like to be there, it’s obvious that the experience, intention, and thoughtfulness of creating United in Yosemite made it something incredibly special. In creating a distinct and welcoming space for climbers who identify as BIPOC, LGBTQ+ and/or adaptive, and leaning on the expertise and insight of community organizations like Brown Girls Climb, Queer Crush, and ParaCliff Climbers, United in Yosemite manifested itself as by the community and truly for the community.
The AAC's Climb United organizers Shara Zaia and Eddie Espinosa reflected that the energy of the event was magical—unlike other climbing festivals they had attended before, there was no cliquiness—or even just innocently wanting to chat only with your own friends. Instead, there was an openness and willingness to meet people and learn and laugh with everyone. Zaia reflected that the Farm to Crag group meal, which was hosted on the saturday of the event, was particularly illustrative of this idea:
“The word family came up a lot throughout the weekend. We had a family dinner where everyone was sitting at these long tables with beautiful tablecloths, meshing with new folks and eating this beautiful meal that had just been picked from the ground locally the day before by the Farm To Crag team.”
Espinosa argues that a lot of that electricity and openness came from the agreed norms and guardrails that the planning team set and shared with all participants from the get-go, to make sure everyone was on the same page about expectations and attitudes. With grassroots organizations like Brown Girls Climb, Queer Crush, and ParaCliff Climbers on the consulting team from the beginning, UiY was determined to do right by their participants and uphold the best practices that promote equity. This looked like creating financial accessibility—the event was free, and travel stipends were available for those who needed them—and paying the photographers and guides who were dedicating their time to this space for BIPOC, LGBTQ+ and adaptive climbers, among other things. In other instances, accessibility meant pre-emptively ensuring those at the adaptive clinics had all the logistics sorted out that normally is a lot more complicated for their community—and frequently completely forgotten about by non-adaptive climbers. They didn’t have to do the emotional work of advocating for themselves…they just showed up and got down to it—the climbing!
There was also simply the accessibility challenge of Yosemite itself—the most popular park in the USA. You can’t underestimate how complex something like finding parking or registering for camping can be for any person, let alone someone who might find the climbing community intimidating or uninviting for other reasons. Eddie Espinosa captured the idea in the best way: “It’s easier to get Taylor Swift tickets than it is to get a camping reservation in Yosemite.”
Perhaps naturally flowing from the sense of “family” were moments of mentorship and authentic connection between climbers of all abilities and experience levels. Zaia reflects: “Personally, I feel that the most pivotal moments of mentorship I've had are realizing that the people I like really look up to are relatable to me—seeing them scared, or hearing them experience things that I experience while I'm climbing. Sometimes when you put climbers you see on the internet on a pedestal, you almost dehumanize them. And I think these spaces are really important in humanizing each other and really relating to one another and putting us more on the same playing field. Because no matter what grade you're climbing, climbing is scary. And it's hard. And that experience that you're having is parallel to what someone's having no matter what they're climbing.”
More than a climbing festival, the event seemed to be a celebration of community, with climbing as the glue that held everyone together. Espinosa described it as a huge cultural event as well. Memories that stood out to the organizers were the little things that take our breath away in the moment, but are hard to capture on paper—you just have to live them.
Zaia shared: “Shea's acoustic set was gorgeous. Shelton Johnston speaking was incredible. Biking around the Valley with the team. I can’t pinpoint it, but I laughed the whole weekend. There were so many smiles. I also loved that it wasn’t just a climbing festival. Santi was doing lino prints with a group and Tasha was doing plein air paintings. The two and half hour discussion with Shondeen and Monserrat about the Indigenous experience. It was so much more than going climbing all day and coming back and having a party. It was really beautiful seeing people share their passions and talents.”
For Espinosa, it was “talking to people and how much appreciation they had. Appreciation for being alive in that space with the people around them. It was very tangible. They understood where they were in the world in that moment, and it was very powerful.”
With a bit of time and distance since the event, what does it all mean? How does United in Yosemite signify in the larger scope of climbing?
“It really did feel like melding—the knowledge and connections and access that come from bigger organizations and older organizations, and partnering so intimately with grassroots organizers was just like the perfect combination of figuring out how to implement best practices and having the resources to do it," said Zaia.
“It’s a bit of a proof of concept that something like this can happen in a National Park," said Espinosa.
Cheers to another incredible event next year!
“United in Yosemite was such a beautiful experience. I felt safe and in community with like-minded people. I am new to the climbing scene and was so excited to meet people who were so open to letting others learn from them and share their gear, pointers for climbing and their stories/experiences. It was such a positive experience being able to see every single person genuinely wanting every other person to have a great weekend. I think the thing that was most important for me was seeing other brown people like me sharing these spaces with confidence and in community. Representation matters and I definitely felt the BIPOC love this weekend. Thank you.”—Adriana Becerra, 2023 Participant