Being BIPOC in the Backcountry: What Needs to Change and How We Show Up

by Misty Johnston

You’ve seen the photos. Endless powder fields. High fives in the skin track. Faces glowing with sun and stoke.

But if you look a little closer, there’s often something missing: people who look like us.

For Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC), the backcountry isn’t just about avy gear and fitness. It’s about belonging in a space that wasn’t always built with us in mind. We show up anyway—but the path is different. Heavier. Sometimes lonelier. Often more powerful.

Here’s what it means to be BIPOC in the backcountry—the barriers we face, the community we’re building, and the future we’re carving, one skin track at a time.

Khai Bhagwandin (right) : A PNW Snowboarder, activist, mentor and fighter for inclusivity in the outdoor space.

What Gets in the Way?

1. Access = Money + Location + Exposure

• Gear is expensive. Touring setups, transceivers, probes, airbags—it adds up fast.

• Most BIPOC communities are nowhere near snow-covered mountains.

• Many of us didn’t grow up with parents who skied or hiked. The culture wasn’t “normal.”

  
  

2. Representation Is Still Lacking

• How many brown faces do you see in ski films?

• Who’s teaching the avy courses?

• Who’s designing the gear, the marketing, the safety messaging?

When you don’t see yourself reflected, it subtly says: this isn’t for you.

3. Unspoken Gatekeeping

• Microaggressions in the lift line.

• Getting stared at in mountain towns.

• The “you’re new here” energy when you’re skinning up.

It’s not always overt. But you feel it.

4. Safety Beyond Avalanches

We carry more than beacons and shovels. We carry the knowledge that remote spaces—especially in politically charged areas—aren’t always safe for BIPOC folks in ways white people may never have to think about.

Tip Bee: An outdoor enthusiast, snowboarder and dedicated 14er hiker playing with a husky at Purgatory Ski Resort.

What’s Changing—and What Still Needs Work

There’s been progress. But not enough.

Progress:

• BIPOC-led groups like Unlikely Riders, Indigenous Women Outdoors, Edge Outdoors, and Brown Girls Climb are out there, thriving

• Brands are starting to support inclusive storytelling

• More scholarships, mentorships, and BIPOC avy classes are popping up

  
  

Still Needed:

• Long-term investment, not seasonal diversity hires

• Land acknowledgment + access to Indigenous communities

• More leadership roles in guiding, instructing, and decision-making

• Not just inviting BIPOC into the outdoors—but letting us reshape the culture itself

  
  

So How Do We Show Up—Fully?

For BIPOC Riders:

• Take up space—without apology. You earned your line.

• Build your crew. Community makes everything safer, louder, and more fun.

• Seek out mentors of color—or become one.

• Tell your story. The more we speak, the more the narrative shifts.

• Rest. You don’t have to be the “only one” every day. Pace yourself. Heal.

  
  

For Allies:

• Pass the mic—don’t just repost, listen.

• Invite BIPOC friends to ride—but don’t expect them to be grateful for being “included.”

• Speak up when someone’s being tokenized or mistreated—especially when it’s subtle.

• Support BIPOC orgs, athletes, and businesses with your money, not just your likes.

The backcountry in the French alps: Steep and Treacherous but fun and the best of memories are made out there.

Final Thoughts: Our Tracks Matter

The backcountry is wild. Beautiful. Sacred. And it belongs to all of us.

When BIPOC riders show up in the backcountry, we’re not just chasing powder. We’re reclaiming space. We’re honoring ancestors who moved through mountains long before ski resorts.

We’re planting new roots—for our communities, for our future riders, for our own joy.

So we keep showing up. Even when it’s hard. Even when the silence is loud.

Because we deserve to be here. And more importantly we’re not going anywhere.