Pinpricks of stars pierced the fading evening sky, as I looked towards the horizon that slowly absorbed the huge golden sun. My friend and I were sitting on our surfboards in Rest Bay, South Wales, while waiting for the next set of waves. Whenever we managed to catch one, the feeling was like nothing else.
![[Pride and Joy: George Cruse-Drew - I'm a queer, non-binary surfer]](https://metro.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/SEI_235561891-9d3e.jpg?quality=90&strip=all&w=646)
Throughout it all, the chattering mind quietened and the anxieties of life died away. Surfing is how I find peace and clarity. But as a non-binary and queer person, it’s difficult to feel welcome in the ocean. Recently, however, it’s become a way of connecting with other queer people.
![[Pride and Joy: George Cruse-Drew - I'm a queer, non-binary surfer]](https://metro.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/SEI_235562010-0fb6-e1736527681243.jpg?quality=90&strip=all&w=646)
I basically grew up in the sea. Although my mum hates the cold, she would play in the water with me when I was a baby. My earliest memories involve sticking my tiny fingers into the sand, then watching it recede into the ocean with the waves. I was eight when I first surfed – I got pummelled by massive waves, coming up for air only to get forced back under by the next one. I actually didn’t enjoy it, but something kept bringing me back to try and get better.
![[Pride and Joy: George Cruse-Drew - I'm a queer, non-binary surfer]](https://metro.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/SEI_235562011-38df-e1736527714147.jpg?quality=90&strip=all&w=646)
Alongside this – for as long as I can remember – I felt different to the people I grew up with. So I deliberately acted contrary to people’s expectations to stop them from making assumptions about me, like making my own elaborate and colourful costumes, but also skating and rock climbing.
