According to data tracked by the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award program, the number of young women and girls who identify skateboarding as their chosen activity rose 800% between 2017 and 2022. At the international competition level, according to a peer-reviewed study published in early 2025, the number of female competitors has quadrupled since 2016. Right now, the best skaters on the competitive circuit are teenage girls, some as young as 15.
None of that was true yet when Jeanean Thomas (@JeaneanThomas) took her 6-year-old daughter Peyton to a skate park in Cambridge, Ontario, in October of 2015. But the moment that happened that afternoon has been quietly circulating the internet ever since, and it keeps finding new audiences because the thing it’s really about hasn’t changed at all.
Thomas, a firefighter, had spent months convincing Peyton that skateboarding wasn’t just for boys. “She’d only ever seen boys skateboard so she just assumed that it was a boy sport,” Thomas told Today. When they finally arrived at the park, her resolve nearly broke. It was full of teenage boys, smoking and swearing. Peyton wanted to turn around immediately.
Thomas did too, if she’s being honest. “I secretly wanted to go too,” she later wrote, “because I didn’t want to have to put on my mom voice and exchange words with you. I also didn’t want my daughter to feel like she had to be scared of anyone, or that she wasn’t entitled to that skate park just as much as you were.”
So they stayed. Peyton slipped onto the board and started falling. And then one of the boys skated over.
“I heard you say, ‘Your feet are all wrong. Can I help you?’” Thomas wrote in a letter she posted to X that night, addressed to the teenager she never got to thank in person. “You proceeded to spend almost an hour with my daughter showing her how to balance and steer and she listened to you. I even heard you tell her to stay away from the rails so that she wouldn’t get hurt.”
His friends made fun of him for it. He kept going anyway.
“I want you to know that I am proud that you are part of my community and I want to thank you for being kind to my daughter,” Thomas wrote. “She left with a sense of pride and with the confidence that she can do anything, because of you.”
The letter went viral almost immediately. It later emerged, through reporting by the Cambridge Times, that the young man wasn’t a teenager at all. His name was Ryan Carney, a 20-year-old skate coach who worked at an indoor park in nearby Kitchener. He was baffled by the attention. “If I didn’t know what the heck I was doing, and I was in a place that could be intimidating at that age, I’d want someone to help me,” he told CBC News. “That’s all I did.”
When they left the park, Peyton had gone from slipping off the board entirely to riding up and down ramps. She asked to go back every day after that.
The culture Peyton stepped into that afternoon was one that had actively excluded girls for decades. What Carney did, without thinking much of it, was exactly the kind of thing that changes a kid’s relationship to a sport before she’s old enough to know she was supposed to be excluded from it. The 800% participation increase didn’t come from nowhere. It came from moments like this one, scaled up, repeated, normalized.
“I just seen a little girl struggling to enjoy her time there,” Carney said. “I wanted to see her leaving wanting to skateboard again.”
She did.
This article originally appeared last year.
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