From Colombia to Idaho: Discovering My Place in Skiing

Vanessa Posada worked in partnership with Visit Idaho to create this Travel Tip.

What does it mean to be the first in your family? The first to graduate college? The first to live in the United States? The first to learn to ski? It means expanding possibilities, creating opportunities for joy and growing our culture. It means having the honor and responsibility of paving a road, blazing a trail and bringing our communities with us.

Adapting to a New Climate

I was six when my family immigrated to the U.S. The change was sudden and stark; we moved from the lush green hills of Colombia to the cold gray winters of Michigan. My relationship with the outdoors was interrupted by this harsh change. In Colombia, most of my time was spent outdoors. There wasn’t even really a distinction between indoors and outdoors— my relatives would sit outside sipping coffee as the children ran around in the grass. There was no need for forethought, planning or logistics to go outside. We would simply walk out the front door. Moving to such a different climate, we suddenly lost the knowledge, access and even the language for being outdoors.

Glimpses into Ski Culture

I had many friends who skied growing up. Some were on the high school ski team, and others took yearly family ski trips to Colorado. We sold ski equipment at the gear shop where I worked, and many families would come in to purchase skis and share stories about their vacations. I remember listening quietly as they described this unfamiliar sport and talked about snow conditions with excitement in their eyes.

They bought skis for the whole family, starting with toddlers in hot pink ski boots and continuing to adults. I gradually picked up on the culture of the sport. It was family-oriented—something I could relate to. But no one who came into that shop looked like me, and no one spoke Spanish. I also remember ringing up their bills, which were often thousands of dollars, not including lift tickets and transportation. It was enough to understand that skiing wasn’t a sport for me.

I learned to ski in my 20s because I wanted to transfer my love for the outdoors to the winter season. Learning as an adult was difficult, embarrassing and frustrating. I knew I would never compare to those who had skied their whole lives, so what was the point of trying? I didn’t fit into traditional ski culture and likely never would.

Carving My Own Space in Snow Sports

I existed so far outside the box of what I’ve seen a traditional skier look like that I decided to create a new, much larger box. My differences once isolated me in snow sports, but they also gave me the freedom to never have to conform. My goals are different: I don’t aim to be the best; I aim to be the first. The first in my community to have access and share it with others; the first to expand narratives on who belongs in skiing; the first to be represented as a skier in films and photos; the first to reject assimilation and bring my full self to the slopes.

Idaho Ski Trip: Breaking Boundaries with My Friends

Twenty years later, my Latina friends, Rosa Sanchez and Sofia Jaramillo and I planned our first Idaho ski trip. The blue skies and sunshine drew us out of the car for two days of skiing at Dollar Mountain and Rotarun Ski Area in central Idaho. The three of us connected through our shared love for Latina culture and the mountain towns we call home. After years of hard work, I finally had the knowledge, access and language for skiing—it was rooted in childlike joy and love.

That weekend in Idaho, we flipped the script on the narrative I had learned at the gear shop. Not only was skiing a sport for me, but my community was there, too. Yes, there were countless kids in hot pink ski boots, but many of them spoke Spanish. Their families sat in the sunshine cheering them on. Some kids even inspired their parents to join them on the slopes and learn to ski. I heard my language, culture and music as I boarded the chairlift. During our break at Rotarun, we ate delicious tacos. These subtle differences revealed a powerful truth: ski culture is evolving and expanding to include more people.

This powerful truth was especially prevalent for Sanchez, who grew up in a mountain town without access to skiing. To her, skiing didn’t make sense because it didn’t fit into Latino culture. The financial barriers were also incredibly steep. Being in Idaho showed her a different narrative.

Reminiscing about our magical weekend in Idaho, Sanchez shares, “The culture in Idaho felt very welcoming and much less intimidating than other spaces I’ve been to in the past. I felt like I was a skier. I felt like I belonged. It was nice to see people of all ages and families on the slopes. It reminded me that skiing can just be fun.”

I worked hard to learn how to ski so I could be the role model I never had. It fills me with pride and joy to know I can pass these skills on to others and let them know what our community is capable of. “Being able to ski with people that look like me, that I can share jokes with and play music on chairlifts with, makes me feel a sense of belonging in skiing,” Sanchez reflects. What was different about skiing in Idaho was how much we all saw our culture represented. There was space for us.

The truth I carry with me from our ski trip to Idaho is that we all belong on the slopes. When we are met with support and encouragement, and when there is space for us to show up as our full selves, we can thrive in the snow. This is a truth I want everyone to know, regardless of their background. If you have had access to snow sports, I encourage you to invite a friend, neighbor or community member to join you. If you have always been curious about snow sports but lacked access, I encourage you to be brave and step out into the unknown. Ask for help in gaining access. We are all capable of learning new things, and we are all stronger than we think. Together, we can create an inclusive skiing experience where everyone belongs.

Feature image credited to Sofia Jaramillo.

Vanessa Chavarriaga Posada is an environmental sociologist and outdoor athlete from Medellín, Colombia. She is a three-culture kid whose childhood was split between Colombia, the U.S. and Mexico. Her work now focuses on the intersections of race, identity, and nature through DEI education, public speaking, and writing.