Women on the edge

Picture this: you have the power to climb a rock face with spider-like skill and superhero ability. You’re standing at the foot of a magnificent spike of granite, surrounded by awe-inspiring mountains, knowing you have the strength to propel yourself to the top. Think of the sense of achievement you’d have on succeeding.

Whereas before a SoulCycle-inspired spin class would be the best way to sweat it out for an hour and visualise how you were going to kick ass for the rest of the day, now climbing is becoming the ultimate challenge. Even if you don’t see yourself scaling Everest anytime soon, learning to climb is as much about pushing yourself physically as it is mentally. Some of the most successful female climbers on the circuit became addicted at a young age; others came to it later, often to confront deep-rooted fears.

Leading the way is 15-year-old American schoolgirl Ashima Shiraishi, who is considered one of the most talented young climbers – male or female – of all time. Shiraishi, who has been sponsored by The North Face since 2015, began climbing in Central Park when she was six years old, after watching other people clambering up the rocks: ‘At first I was just captivated by the movement because it seemed so graceful – I thought of it as dancing on the rocks – it was just like nothing I’d seen before.’

Since then the slight teenager, who is just over 5ft tall, has dedicated herself to the sport. Earlier this year she became the first female and the youngest person ever to conquer a V15 climb (V0 is like climbing a ladder, V16 is the hardest climb that exists). Aside from physical dexterity, climbs of this level (accomplished without ropes) require the utmost mental agility; Shiraishi innovates to solve the puzzle of the wall by scaling craggy overhangs with imagination, moving into gravity-defying positions, and flexing her mind and her muscles simultaneously.

Plus, she already knows at 15 what it took me at least another 10 years to realise: doubting yourself invites crisis, whatever sphere you’re operating in. She doesn’t let the ever-present possibility of falling faze her: ‘In climbing, most of the time you fall – 99% of climbing is falling. Climbers focus on that 1% chance that you might be able to do it. I think in life too you fall a bunch but the challenge is to stand back up.’

Sasha DiGiulian, 23, is also an American climber whose experience on the rocks has made her philosophical

FIRST IT WAS CANDLELIT SPIN CLASSES THAT GAVE EXERCISE JUNKIES THEIR LATEST HIT. NOW, WOMEN ARE SEEKING MORE HARDCORE CHALLENGES,

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about confronting fear and failure: ‘The only way to push your comfort zone is to step outside of it and see. There are situations in which I’ve not known if I was capable of doing something but I put myself on the line, and I’ve failed but I’ve also surprised myself with success.’ The 5ft 2in blonde powerhouse from Alexandria, Virginia, is the reigning Pan-American Champion, undefeated since 2004. She travels the world establishing ‘first ascents’, pioneering climbs that involve exploration and greater risks than routes scaled before. We’re talking colossal rock faces in wild landscapes that, to the untrained eye, have no discernible footholds. ‘Climbing is mental as well as physical,’ DiGiulian explains. ‘Physically, it’s easy to break down; it’s a strength-to-bodyweight ratio sport. But mentally you have to be able to envision yourself doing something in order to be able to do it. If you don’t actually believe in yourself then climbing is nearly impossible.’ When a climber stands at the bottom of a towering wall, any obstacles they spot are decodable; they visualise overcoming the mountain, not being defeated by it. ‘To be a success in high-risk sports, like climbing, you need to be strong and focused with a clear, consistent sense of control,’ explains Dr Rhonda Cohen, Sport and Exercise Psychologist at Middlesex University. It requires a tenacious mentality, laser focus and discipline. In return, climbers find their self-esteem, body awareness and goal-setting skills sky rocket.

Dr Cohen says, ‘The mental attraction for women is often that engaging in extreme sport is a way of

building confidence and overcoming fear.’ On the other hand, ‘Men often engage in sport to physically push themselves and mentally they pursue extreme sport for the thrill and sensation of it. Men are also regarded as more likely than women to take a risk.’ But how do men and women’s elite climbing performances compare? It’s a unique sport in that whatever your gender, you tackle the exact same climbs, so direct parallels can be drawn. This seems progressive – everyone competes at the same level – but it’s also a point of contention. Terminology such as ‘first female ascent’ exists and some climbers feel that it reinforces outdated stereotypes, highlighting the fact that women are expected to be outperformed by men (the distinction ‘first male ascent’ is not used).

DiGiulian considers first female ascents an important way of emphasising female achievement (she has 28 to her name, in addition to five first ascents). ‘What’s really going to help women meet the level that male climbers are at now is by becoming more involved with the development process of climbing, and that’s by going out there and doing more first ascents.’ She tells me that climbing is a very technical sport, so women can certainly do it as hard as men: ‘I think that women have skills that can outshine men on certain climbs, such as endurance and flexibility.’

Contrary to what non-climbers might imagine, the sport can instil a zen-like sense of calm. The climbers I speak to report a melting away of doubts as soon as they grab the first hold. ‘The concentration needed really helps you to manage stress,’ explains Dr Cohen. ‘Being on the wall requires a complete focus similar to meditation. When you meditate, you’re not responding to your anxieties or fear.’ Being able to push past fear takes commitment, but the rewards are on another level, too.

American adventurer Katie Boué, 28, knows this first-hand. Until she started climbing in college she hadn’t realised she had a fairly crippling fear of heights: ‘It’s something that I have to manage every time I climb.’ Boué’s first year of ascents was punctuated by panic attacks: ‘I stopped climbing for a while but realised that when it happened I needed to stay where I was, not come down, let it out and then keep going.’ Learning how to manage her fear gave Boué a new outlook that informs every part of her life. ‘The panic attacks gave me perspective: the importance of taking a step back, looking at the full picture and analysing how you get through to the next level. Climbing has made things easier for me to process.’

In 2013, Boué did a year-long solo climbing trip around the US in a van she retrofitted herself. At one point she spent three months in Utah trying to tackle a particular boulder problem, figuring out the best sequence of hand- and footholds from start to finish: ‘It wore me down but then one day, I just felt good.’ That day she solved the problem by conquering the gymnastics of the climb. Boué’s story is not unusual; according to Dr Cohen, ‘It is not the risk for climbers that is the drive, but the experience, sense of challenge and accomplishment… Climbers tend to be more spiritual, more introverted and more in control than those in other extreme sports.’ What about climbers who take tremendous risks? When free soloing (no ropes, no partner) at 1,000ft above the ground you’re dicing with elements you can’t control, such as weather and loose rocks, and falling isn’t an option.

Enter Steph Davis, the 42-year-old Illinois-born climber who has free soloed Colorado's Longs Peak Diamond four times. This is an alpine climb at high altitude with a vertical gain of more than 900ft. For Davis, who has 25 years’ experience, the sport has taught her that she does well under a ‘life or death kind of pressure’, so the risky styles of climbing suit her. How does Davis confront the fear factor? ‘I manage my fear, and I can differentiate between the types of feelings it manifests as. Often I’m feeling what I call “intensity” and I enjoy being in that state. If I’m feeling too much fear, I listen to it and try to get out of the situation. I eliminate all emotions except for a feeling of extreme calm and determination, because this is the best way to operate in a dangerous environment. You can train yourself to do it through practice, and setting it as an intention.’ But Davis’ biggest challenge to date has been one she’s faced off the wall: ‘My husband Mario died in the mountains during a wingsuit base jump when we were in the Dolomites [Italy] together. Learning how to go on without Mario was the hardest thing I’ve done – the biggest climbs I’ve conquered were comparatively easy.’

None of these women have the goal of risking their lives; it’s not why they climb. Instead they’re set on mastering something, whether it’s a sense of synchronicity with the natural environment or to be the best climber ever. Climbers focus on where they want to be and figure out how to achieve that in a methodical way; they’re skilled problem-solvers. And we can all learn something from them, whatever summit we’re trying to reach.

‘DOUBTING YOURSELF INVITES CRISIS, WHATEVER SPHERE YOU’RE OPERATING IN. DON’T LET THE EVERPRESENT POSSIBILITY OF FALLING FAZE YOU’

AT AROUND 9.45PM ON 10 JANUARY, this year started as it meant to go on for me. I was pulling an all-weekender reporting on the death of Hollywood rock’n’roll legend, Motörhead frontman Lemmy, whose funeral took place that Sunday in Los Angeles where I live. Fresh from finishing my article, hunger pangs struck so I went to my cornershop for milk and Cheerios (stop judging me). By the time I got home, David Bowie was dead. I plonked myself back at my desk, put on his album Station To Station and spent the next few hours paralysed, gorging on the thoughts spilling out of peers’ brains via social media as the world mourned together. The milk never made it to the fridge. As the news spread like wildfire across every social media platform, Bowie fans worldwide united in picking apart the lyrics of the newly released Blackstar album, particularly the song Lazarus in which Bowie appears to narrate his own death, as though he knew all along. ‘Look up here, I’m in heaven,’ he sang. ‘I’ve got scars that can’t be seen / I’ve got drama, can’t be stolen / Everybody knows me now…’

If 2016 had a soundtrack, it would feature a frantic beat and play at a tinnitus-inducing volume. The debate surrounding music now is louder, less predictable and more meaningful than it has been in decades. Once again, it’s dominating the cultural conversation, both holding up a mirror to society and helping to articulate how we see the world.

Our engagement with music events would suggest that we’re living in a renaissance period for pop. If the cultural essays and major happenings continue at this rate, we’ll have lost our voices before Christmas and I’ll have spent all my money on tour merchandise. Between Justin Bieber’s Purpose World Tour, Rihanna’s Anti and Beyoncé’s Formation, I’m in dire need of a tax rebate (can I claim my Rihanna ‘Most likely to not give a f **k’ hat back as a ‘work’ expense?). At long last, the world is taking pop music seriously again and frankly, I’m thrilled about it.

THIS WAS THE YEAR THAT MUSIC became a discussion, which runs much deeper than just tweeting the lemon emoji to signify you’ve purchased a copy of an album that’s occupied as much internet space as the run up to the US election. No less than 1.8 million of us tweeted about Beyoncé’s visual album Lemonade during its HBO premiere, according to Twitter UK. That’s half a million more tweets than followed the release of Adele’s Hello in October 2015, which spawned 1.3m frenzied 140-character missives over five days*.

THE FRONT PAGES OF BROADSHEETS have been hijacked by the deaths of icons; columns have intellectualised era-defining albums from the likes of Radiohead and UK grime star Skepta; consumers have grappled with their preferred streaming services; pop songs have been liberated from the anodyne subject matter of yore (boy meets girl, girl meets boy, the end) and embraced modern life following years of economic recession and social uprising; and stars such as Kesha and Against Me! transgender frontwoman Laura Jane Grace are fighting for their voice.

In 2016, a quarter of the most popular Instagram accounts are those of music stars. The knock-on effect is that I receive more messages from Miley Cyrus every day than WhatsApps from my best mate. Music is happening at us, on so many levels, and the wider public is being swept up in it, not just young girls and music journalists.

When you write about music there are four scenarios that justify emergency protocol: a band breaks up or loses a member (hello Zayn Malik’s post-One Direction album, Mind Of Mine), a band reforms (The Stone Roses), someone releases an unannounced track (everyone this year), or someone dies (it might be a good idea to cryogenically freeze Kate Bush, Cher, Björk and Paul McCartney pronto). The music world has been at Defcon level 2 these past eight months. After years of predictability in pop and the monopolisation of every platform by Taylor Swift’s 1989 album campaign, you’d forgive the non-music obsessive for considering that the playing field was positively flat. As Swift faded from view and Adele out-smashed herself, there was room for a glut of releases across the spectrum of genres.

WITH THE SHOCKING DEPARTURE OF PRINCE in April, the collective sense that the cosmos was sending some sort of a message was palpable, no matter how irrational, but it had a galvanising effect. ‘The tragic losses have made people realign with legendary albums and reconnect with current music,’ says Anna Meacham, who still works on Prince’s publicity. A cynic may consider the public hysteria surrounding these deaths as panic about the impending loss of our remaining irreplaceable icons. Perhaps these deaths have provoked today’s stars to aim higher

with their creative vision. Meacham, who also masterminds press for Zayn, Adele and Beyoncé, agrees that making music isn’t enough anymore. Artists now create a universe around themselves; you only have to look at Kanye unveiling his album The Life Of Pablo at Madison Square Garden in February with a fashion show to realise that a simple on-sale date won’t do.

Usually the most anticipated albums are released in the weeks leading up to Christmas. This year’s biggest records were landing just ahead of summer festivals and tours, and all at the same time; the explosion of the festival market means artists want their albums out earlier so the crowd can sing along. Rihanna put tour tickets on sale without the album, then released Anti just in time.

Let’s pour one out for all the critics and broadcasters who suffered a mild breakdown in April/May of this year when Lemonade kickstarted 13 days of madness, as surprise albums from Drake, Radiohead, James Blake and Chance The Rapper were all dropped one by one. Fast forward to August when Frank Ocean released a surprise visual album, Endless, and subsequent follow-up, Blonde. It forced the importance of albums again and stuck up two punk fingers at the iPod shuffle culture. The lyrics generated stories of their own, too: Drake, who’s become an expert at creating a meme out of his every move, used the restaurant chain Cheesecake Factory as the setting for a lovers’ tiff on his track, Child’s Play: ‘Why you gotta fight with me at Cheesecake? / You know I love to go there.’

THE LONG-AWAITED ‘MOMENT’ also came for UK grime hero Skepta, whose album Konnichiwa landed six days before Chance’s. ‘The feds wanna shift man / Wanna put me in a van / Wanna strip a man’ go the lyrics of Crime Riddim, announcing himself as Britain’s most politicised bard, calling the authorities out on stop-and-search laws and racial profiling.

These artists are all individuals in their own right, but together they share the key to this reinvigorated dynamism via their grappling with greater questions of identity. Journalist and punk frontwoman of Perfect Pussy Meredith Graves says we’ve become more engaged with whether our pop stars are ‘good people. Especially in such a contentious [US] election year. When it comes to artists who are capitalising on a perceived authenticity, they should be transparent and give their fans the choice.’

ARTIFICE IS NO LONGER WELCOME in 2016. As Zayn Malik told ELLE this year, ‘Authenticity is the key to being a successful artist, and to being iconic.’ Our relationship with music is more intimate now, too; technology allows us to have music with us wherever we go. It’s creating feverish levels of anticipation around forthcoming releases. That, combined with the fact that music is meeting us where we are in our lives (socially, politically and personally), has sparked vital interest. We seek to connect with artists who are using their platforms to talk about the things that affect us daily because they’re in our lives daily. Jessica Hopper, Editorial Director at MTV News, recalls being in the New York courtroom when Kesha’s appeal was thrown out, an ongoing saga with recent news that she’s since dropped one of the lawsuits against producer Dr Luke. ‘Kesha is taking on the status quo of her industry to fight for her self expression; it’s part of the continuous conversation we’re having about the way women are taken advantage of everywhere.’ It reminds me of seeing Beyoncé close a show in September in LA with Freedom, her most politically charged song to date. ‘I’m a wave through your shallow love,’ she hollered, stomping through puddles of water, kicking away frivolities of the past. With a final cry of ‘Freedom, cut me loose […] cause I need freedom too!’ she threw down the gauntlet for a year of uninhibited artistic expression. And as art imitates life, so too life begins to take art seriously again.