Cruxing in Color
How people of color are finding connections through climbing
Things are not going according to plan for Shara Zaia. It’s a Friday morning in late October and what’s supposed to be an important weekend for the climbers of Cruxing in Color is threatened by predictions of a coming snowstorm and bone-chilling, finger-numbing cold.
Zaia continues on from Denver toward Cañon City, where an iconic wall of limestone rising from a valley has become famous among climbers for its accessibility, quality holds, and endless number of routes for climbers of all levels.
Many things have complicated Zaia’s work since she and Menesha Mannapperuma founded the nonprofit Cruxing in Color (CIC), which will be participating in the American Alpine Club’s Craggin’ Classic this weekend. As she drives, she thinks through the list of those she knows are coming, what their goals are, and what type of climbing experience they have. For Zaia, setting the intention for each event in advance creates a successful and supportive atmosphere. As a former teacher, Zaia also understands how things can quickly change and the importance of adapting to what people are feeling on that day.
Zaia arrives and helps prep for the event. Day turns to dusk. The dirt parking lot transforms into a festival zone. Various branded tents form a square around an outdoor theater. Companies like Scarpa, La Sportiva, Adidas and CAMP offer climbing gear and merchandise, while organizations like Leave No Trace provides climbers with techniques to minimize their impact on the areas that make climbing so special.
The evening is crisp. Folks bundle up in their big puffy coats and beanies. They walk around the tents in search of little fires to stand by and warm up their frozen hands. S’mores and IPAs are the popular choice of the evening, and a perpetual “oontz oontz” from the speakers adds to the frozen ambience. Huddled around a portable stove, people check their phones and discuss the weather outlook for tomorrow.
The general consensus — these people are here to climb and with the right attitude anything is possible.
The Craggin’ Classic has space for everyone. New and experienced climbers are welcome. The next morning, Zaia crawls out of her toasty sleeping bag and steps into the cold air, confronted with snow and below-freezing temperatures. Zaia puts on three puffies and at 9 a.m. she gathers CIC and the other affinity groups in a circle outside the AAC tent. Around 25 individuals stand in a circle with smiles on their faces.
Zaia says, “I think we might just end up going for a hike today.”
Introductions are made and the sun begins to peek out from the clouds. Relieved, Zaia announces to the group, “Well now that the sun is out, I think we can try to go climb!”
Everyone hops into their vehicles carpooling to The Bank, a parking lot farther up the road and closer to the crag aptly named Piggy Bank. Wrapped in their down coats with rope-laden packs on their backs, the group begins the 15-minute approach to the crag. They walk down into the valley and begin ascending a steep trail interspersed with rock steps back up to the base of the crag. A small path follows the cliff band. Climbers plop their packs and gear to the sides of the path, establishing their base for the day.
Silver bolts line the vertical walls. The sun dips behind the clouds as a general sense of trepidation settles amongst the group. The combination of frozen hands, frozen toes, and frozen rock does not sound appealing. Zaia takes the lead, climbing a 5.10c called Abu Simbel. At the third clip she hollers down to her belayer, “Can you take?”
At the end of the evening, Zaia tucks herself into the back of her car to sleep for the night. A thin film of frost develops on her windows, the freeze, a grim outlook for tomorrow’s event.
Not all climbers in the BIPOC community are fortunate enough to have access to or find groups like CIC. For Anna Castro, climbing became part of her life in college at Colorado State University.
When getting into any new sport, especially a sport that involves a lot of skill, safety, and understanding of gear, it helps to have a mentor. “Both of my mentors in climbing were white men,” says Castro. As she progressed in route setting and climbing, it became more apparent to her that she was in the minority within the climbing community.
According to the American Alpine Club’s 2019 State of Climbing Report, more than 80% of the 7.7 million individuals who participate in rock climbing are white. This number dwarfs the number of climbers who identify as a person of color, with only 7% of non-AAC members identifying as Asian/Pacific Islander, 5% Hispanic or Latino, and just 1% of both Black and Native American folks.
It was until she found CIC, that Castro felt she was missing something in her life. Castro was adopted and raised by a Colombian family. “I’m ethnically Latin, but if I’m talking about race, I am white, but I am not white-passing. I think that’s a difficult thing for some people to understand,” explains Castro. Although, she has experienced the feeling of being put into a box. Castro says, “I’m the brown girl who climbs and that’s how people sometimes identify me.”
The first CIC event she went to, she met another Latino climber. This was a novel experience for her. As a female boulderer, Castro found the space to be dominated by white men. CIC shared a whole new community of colored climbers who were equally strong and psyched to push themselves in the sport. It also created a space for Castro to express her feelings as a person of color. Castro says, “It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, but it was a little unsettling to always be the only brown woman climber in a gym full of men.”
At five feet tall, Castro is often underestimated in climbing spaces. Bouldering involves strong powerful moves. “I really like the masculine energy that comes with bouldering because it’s very unexpected.” Her climbing partner who is six feet tall climbs at a similar grade as her. “Being able to climb the same things he does brings me so much power in my internal being.”
Aside from the physical side of bouldering, Castro appreciates how bouldering teaches her to be accountable and face her own emotions.
Castro finds climbing and community to be interconnected. Climbing teaches her how to be a better communicator in her friendships and romantic relationships. She’s learned how to ask for what she needs, how to express what is and is not working for her in positive and constructive ways.
Climbing is a fixture in Castro’s life and continues to teach her lessons. Castro says, “When you’re climbing, you’re staring in a mirror. It’s just you and whatever problem you’re working on. Either you do it or you don’t.”
There are many longtime members like Castro, but CIC’s population is growing with each new event they put together.
Morgan MDanat’s first experience at a CIC event was about a month ago at The Spot Boulder, a bouldering-focused climbing gym located in Boulder, Colorado. She heard about it through a friend and fellow CIC member. “In Colorado, I don’t see many brown people in the outdoors. I have a yearning to be with people who are like me,” says MDanat.
“Race and ethnicity are always a hard question, even when it comes to checking the box. Usually, the box I check is Hispanic or Latino,” says MDanat. Born and raised by a Jordanian father and Hispanic mother, MDanat attributes much of her upbringing to those cultures.
MDanat moved to Colorado about two years ago, but grew up and lived in New Mexico for much of her life. She started climbing about six years ago, learning in a very different space with different ethics when it came to climbing outside.
Climbing is a sport that is often handed down through mentorship and teaching, especially when there is a smaller community. MDanat learned from climbers who had a ground-up attitude. According to MDanat, the mentality was, “If you can’t make the first bolt, you’re not climbing it. You’re strong enough to do it or you don’t do it.” Unaware of all the risks that come with climbing, MDanat describes herself as a “bold” climber when she first started out. Obsessed by the movement, the power, and the community, she threw herself into the sport.
After moving to Colorado, MDanat began to focus on building strength in order to achieve her goals that once felt out of reach. She describes her relationship with climbing as something that “ebbs and flows.” Her excitement is part of what propelled her to attend a CIC meet-up in hopes of finding more climbing partners that make her feel part of the community. There was a noticeable shift in MDanat’s surroundings when she arrived in Colorado. “I’ve always been surrounded by areas where there is more culture and there are more brown people,” says MDanat.
According to the 2022 Census, 89.5% of Boulder’s 327,468 residents are white. The barrier to entry can feel intimidating when entering a new space. MDanat explains, “In New Mexico, people just climb to climb. It didn’t matter what you were climbing, just that you were climbing. Moving to Colorado, especially in Boulder, people are like, ‘How hard do you climb?’ It’s a shift in being surrounded by a lot of people who climb very hard.”
MDanat wanted a space and community where she could feel supported and challenged without feeling the pressure to feel like she had to prove herself in order to be accepted.
With any sport, ego is involved, but certain individualistic sports, like climbing, can be especially ego-driven. Climbing harder grades can lead to an inflated sense of self and a superiority complex.
MDanat expresses this elitist mentality saying, “In New Mexico, when you go at a specific time to the gym, and you know all the people there, they talk to you know matter what. I don’t feel like that’s the case in Boulder. It is an off place where people only talk to you if you climb a certain grade.”
“I think that anyone who has been marginalized has kind of felt this need
to puff up their chest and rise up to meet these expectations of other people,
and be perfect, and do everything a little bit better,” says Zaia. “At CIC,
I don’t feel like I have to perform a certain way, or look a certain way,
or show up a certain way, it just feels really relaxing.”
The Craggin’ Classic has space for everyone. New and experienced climbers are welcome. The next morning, Zaia crawls out of her toasty sleeping bag and steps into the cold air, confronted with snow and below-freezing temperatures. Zaia puts on three puffies and at 9 a.m. she gathers CIC and the other affinity groups in a circle outside the AAC tent. Around 25 individuals stand in a circle with smiles on their faces.
Zaia says, “I think we might just end up going for a hike today.”
Introductions are made and the sun begins to peek out from the clouds. Relieved, Zaia announces to the group, “Well now that the sun is out, I think we can try to go climb!”
Everyone hops into their vehicles carpooling to The Bank, a parking lot farther up the road and closer to the crag aptly named Piggy Bank. Wrapped in their down coats with rope-laden packs on their backs, the group begins the 15-minute approach to the crag. They walk down into the valley and begin ascending a steep trail interspersed with rock steps back up to the base of the crag. A small path follows the cliff band. Climbers plop their packs and gear to the sides of the path, establishing their base for the day.
Silver bolts line the vertical walls. The sun dips behind the clouds as a general sense of trepidation settles amongst the group. The combination of frozen hands, frozen toes, and frozen rock does not sound appealing. Zaia takes the lead, climbing a 5.10c called Abu Simbel. At the third clip she hollers down to her belayer, “Can you take?”
“Oh my god my hands are freezing!” Zaia shakes her hands and blows hot air into them. Insecurities creep into her mind. I’m supposed to be this leader. I’m supposed to be brave. Voices from below disrupt her thoughts. The CIC group hoots and hollers at her, offering words of encouragement. Zaia grabs at the chalked handholds and continues climbing until she reaches the anchors. She’s lowered to the ground and says, “It’s pretty cold. My hands numbed out a few times.” Beta, or information regarding the best way to climb a route, is discussed and with encouragement from Zaia, another climber decides to hop on the route to toprope.
The sun begins to poke its head out again. Others begin to put their shoes on and gear up to climb. Chris Mendez hops on a 5.8 called Large Marge. Near the top he faces the most difficult section of the climb, also known as the crux, taking a few minutes to think about his next move. From below, his belay partner shouts, “You got this! I’m with you!” He takes one step and falls. Pulling back onto the wall, he reaches for the last hold and makes it to the anchors. As he is lowered to the ground, there’s a huge smile plastered across his face.
“I think I can do that clean,” he says. “I really want to try it again.”
Walking up and down the crag path, a conquest takes place. Ropes hang from the tops of many routes. People scale up the faces like monkeys playing on a rock jungle. An organized chaos ensues. From the outside it looks like gear is strewn everywhere and there is so much chatter, one can barely hear their own thoughts, but the symbiotic relationship between belayer and climber is clear.
“TAKE!”
“I got you!”
“Climbing!”
“On you!”
For those who aren’t climbing, there is still fun to be had and stories to be exchanged. Climbers sit in circles talking. Two women, one Brazilian and one Columbian, share and bond over their experiences of being au pairs in Denver and the struggles it takes to get to the U.S., let alone make a living wage.
Many CIC members talked about the quizzical looks and questions they receive from friends and family when they explain that in their free time, they enjoy pulling themselves up a rock face to death defying heights. Bianca Laurendine, who spent the day belaying and connecting with other members of the organization, recounts the time when she told her mother about her love for climbing.
“Oh lord!” her mom shouted, reacting to the picture Bianca had just shown of herself on the side of a mountain in Clear Creek Canyon, “Don’t show me pictures like that again, you’re no mountain climber!”
To which Bianca replied, “Yes, I am Mom. This is literally a picture of me climbing a mountain.”
Twenty-five turns to 40 climbers of color at the Piggy Bank crag. Numbers are exchanged and future climbing plans are made. The sun hides behind the clouds once more and people begin to hike back to their cars in hopes of avoiding the drive through the winter storm. Little do they know, it’s already begun to snow in the foothills. Zaia sticks around until 4 p.m., making sure everyone gets down safely.
The final festivities begin back at camp. The remaining climbers stay warm dancing under the snow and lights, turning the center of the event into a technicolor snow globe. In the morning, Zaia heads back out on Shelf Road leaving behind the limestone pockets and taking home a feeling of gratitude. Zaia says, “I’m really thankful for Mother Nature who opened her skies for us. It was fun to have the snow when we were dancing and it was fun to not have the snow when we were climbing. I think we were really lucky.”
The Craggin’ Classic is just a glimpse into what it takes to organize and continue garnering support for CIC. Zaia, along with her co-founder Mannapperuma, continue to organize climbing meetups in the Denver and Boulder area year-round. In the past two years, Zaia and Mannapperuma, supported by a group of dedicated volunteers, have built a community of over 4,000 people. CIC supports a vast range of self-identified climbers of color, from experienced climbers to those who are looking to get into the climbing space for their first time by helping them find gear, offering gym scholarships, and providing access to climbing events across the country.
Zaia and Mannapperuma founded CIC in 2019 after inspiration from Jalen Bazile, founder of Melanin Climbers of Colorado. Zaia and Mannapperuma then spurred CIC into a powerhouse of an advocacy organization, heading fundraising efforts, linking CIC with the AAC’s Climb United Affiliate network, and funding instructional scholarships.
For many BIPOC individuals in Colorado, CIC provides a supportive community where climbers can learn the basics, try their hardest, and connect over a shared interest. Whether it be finding a new climbing partner or meeting a significant other, CIC events, like their meetup at the Craggin’ Classic, can be a catalyst for lifelong relationships.
From trying so hard on a climb that your fingertips look like they went through a cheese grater to having a good time on some casual routes with friends, climbing fulfills a special role in the lives of those who partake in the activity. The barriers of entry to the sport range from the steep price of gear to feeling like “the other,” which prevents many people from ever discovering the profound impact it can have on their own personal lives.
According to the 2023 Outdoor Participation Trends Report, the outdoor participation rate of Hispanic people in the U.S. increased by 22% over the past seven years, and the rate of Black people participating increased by more than 5% in 2022.
Mannapperuma, who moved to Colorado seven years ago, has observed this progress in the places where she climbs. “I am able to find spaces where I can be around other climbers of color, which when I first moved to Colorado, I thought maybe there are none.”
