A “roll” model

In the bustling streets of Berlin, Maria’s vibrant presence is unmistakable. The constant sound of skateboard wheels is a fitting sound effect for meeting this curly-haired model, tattoos peeking from a grey sweater. Activist, role model, workshop instructor, and now A-level student, Maria feels their purpose is to play a role bringing hope to others.

A shelter for many

Maria’s home base is a rented room where they study, work and try to prevent burnout. The 20-square-metre space contains a mix of longboards and skateboards that serve as a sanctuary. When Maria’s on the road, the flat becomes a temporary home for others. Maria sub-lets it to fund their trips and to help others in need of shelter.

“I don’t have a problem with somebody else living in my room. There are so many people looking for a place to stay, so it feels good to help in these situations. And I know what it means to be looking for a home.“

“I’m living here with four other people. My flatmate, Mayoko, makes sure I take my foot off the pedal from time to time and calm down. It’s one of the qualities of home that I really enjoy.“

The basic room nearly resembles the style when Maria moved in a year ago: a high bed with a dark blue couch, table and computer, a wooden shelf with colourful folders and Maria’s camera equipment. A small bookshelf with books, many of them by queer authors, gives insight into Maria’s story. One of Maria’s favourite books on the bookshelf is an autobiography about the psychological aftermath of growing up in poverty.

In the shared flat, “we’re currently producing some prints for the corridor and for my room,“ says Maria, looking at a van Gogh-inspired painting of sundown.

“Decorating has never been my thing. Too many small bits and pieces in my room would make me go mad.“

Behind the façade

Behind the modern façade of a role model, who once covered a huge advert in Berlin’s luxury shopping district, is someone who suffered from setbacks and became a self-confident person – even though the two things are not always compatible.

Not long ago, Maria was living on the streets of Leipzig. “I couldn’t stay in my foster home any longer.“ Although the family enabled me to have a carefree youth, they couldn’t answer questions about identity. “I’m black, queer and grew up in Saxony. They never felt or saw these realities as I do.“

On the streets, Maria was a person “other people looked up to”. But when asked if the streets can be a home, Maria answers: “They can be a place that lends you a feeling of security, depending on the situation you’re fleeing from. But to be clear, everyone would prefer to live in a flat and avoid freezing. No one should live on the streets.”

“There were nights when it was just me and my longboard on my way to the youth emergency service to sleep a bit.“ It was a tough time that Maria eventually shared during a talk in the German parliament.

The bumpy road to Berlin

After two years on the streets and numerous stays in youth facilities and clinics, it was time for a fresh start. Maria left Leipzig and found shelter in an assisted living scheme for young people in Berlin.

However, this home provided a bumpy start. “Covid-19 began and here I was, in the middle of Berlin on my own in a 35-square-metre flat. I was unbelievably lonely.“ Though thankful for the space, it “wasn’t like home”.

“In the wake of the Black Lives Matter movement, I started to engage politically and met author and human rights activist Tupoka Ogette“.

“I would go as far as saying that she was my home during Covid. She noticed when I didn’t eat or look after myself. She’s been there for me.“

A few years later, Maria was working as a freelance videographer at a festival in Munich where Tupoka was giving a speech. The author said how proud she was Maria made it there.

“This verbal appreciation is something I never had before.“ It proved to be another definition of home. “I realised I missed the possibility to just be myself and make mistakes in my youth.“

A melting pot

Maria’s first jobs as a model and a videographer brought in enough money that they could swap the loneliness of assisted living for the liveliness of a shared community room.

Maria’s current home was found through a fellow skateboarder. It’s located next to a Mexican restaurant in the middle of Berlin’s melting pot, Neukölln. Maria walks across the wooden planks of a flat that could probably tell a thousand stories.

“To be honest, it wasn’t love at first sight. But I like my room, and I knew I had to be grateful to find a place to stay.“

Stepping through the entrance, the names of the current residents are placed on masking tape outside. You pass a shared kitchen, two bathrooms and a Jolly Roger printed on a rainbow-coloured flag of the alternative football club, St. Pauli.

A loyal companion

Maria’s most important possession isn’t inside the private room. It’s placed next to the main door: a favourite skateboard. There’s more to skating than the feeling of speed and showcasing the newest learned tricks. It’s an enabler of freedom.

When skateboarding, Maria sings along to the sounds in their earbuds: “Pedestrians can’t hear me anyway because of the noise of the wheels. It really relaxes me.“ The Berliner-by-choice also sings when riding a wave! Surfing has become a new passion, along with snowboarding. “When I’m on my surfboard, it’s a moment of inner peace for me. It’s the only time I’m not thinking about other people’s opinions or current projects.“

Skateboarding is a constant companion in Maria’s life and serves as more than a recreational activity. It’s a tool for freedom, self-expression, and connection. Maria’s involvement in founding a FLINTA (Feminine, Lesbian, Intersex, Non-binary, Trans, and Agender) skating community highlights their commitment to inclusivity in a sport they love.

The board is also key to meeting new people on holiday. “I always have my skateboard with me and get in touch with local skaters before my trips. I love to exchange with new people and soak up their stories.“

As Maria continues to navigate life with a skateboard, it is not the same as home. While the skateboard represents a form of identity and freedom, Maria acknowledges that their room in Berlin holds a unique place.

“I’ve been to Barcelona for a month and just wanted to come back and be in my room. Also, Berlin is changing at such great speed. I suffer from the fear of missing out if I’m away for a long time.“

With journeys planned to Brazil and Greece, Maria’s story is far from over. Their skateboard is a symbol of their identity. “I even take it with me if I’m going out for the night. I keep saying that it is my identity.“ Home is not just a physical space but a feeling of belonging, purpose, and the unwavering pursuit to be one’s true self.