On a morning in the spring of 2023, Natascha Reichert is bouldering in a hall in Munich. Looking back, she remembers that the hall was not as crowded that day as usual. There were colorful handles hanging on the walls on which athletes were climbing – some were sitting on the soft floor mats and rattling. Suddenly a man speaks to her: “He said he’s seen me in the hall before.” Reichert knows his way around the scene. “That was the first time I saw him.” The first sentence starts a one-sided conversation. “He then explained to me without asking how to climb the route.” The man doesn’t leave her side. When she changes sectors of the hall, he follows her and talks to her. For example, when both of them were faced with a difficult route, he says: “It could only have been screwed by one man.” In this case it was like in so many other moments: the man wanted to climb the route ahead of her, also without being asked. At the end he said: “You’re pretty strong for a woman.” Reichert was flabbergasted: “I had to process that first.” Then she reacted politely and friendly and left – “In the meantime I would do it differently.”
Freddy Petri, 27, also knows such situations. She has been bouldering with Reichert, 37, for years. And for years she has experienced sexism and discrimination in bouldering. “Some of our friends distance themselves from this sport because of such events,” says Petri. After a visit to a climbing hall in Berlin in March 2023, the two decided: It was time to change something.
It wasn’t a single moment that stuck with the two friends in Berlin – it was an entire weekend. They were guests at a bouldering festival, one primarily for women. The place, the people, the atmosphere: On site they noticed that things could be different, far away from sexism and harassment. On the return trip they agreed: “We need something like that in Munich too.” They started planning on the train – the euphoria they had brought with them quickly disappeared in the weeks that followed.
A year later, the two friends are sitting in a bouldering hall in the west of Munich. The third member of the group, who does not want to be named, is there. The Munich version of what so excited the three women a year ago is about to begin: They have established a climbing meeting for “FLINTA*” people. On their homepage, the “climbing accomplices”, as they call themselves, explain who they want to address: “The term includes all people who are subject to patriarchal discrimination because of their gender identity.” The abbreviation stands for women, lesbians, intersex, non-binary, transgender and agender people. The attached asterisk is also intended for people who do not identify with any of the previous names and who are not cis-male.
On this Saturday afternoon in spring, the hall is not as full as usual. There is a lot of activity, especially at the coffee machine, and a few athletes are hanging out on the mats. However, there are only a few on the wall. Unlike in spring 2023, Natascha Reichert will not feel unwell today. Because the women stay among themselves. About 20 come. “The first time we were really afraid of standing alone,” says Reichert, “it wasn’t that bad, then we would have just gone bouldering as a couple.” Now dozens of women come every month.
Interested women from all over Germany have now approached her and asked for advice on how to plan their own meeting. But what makes these events so appealing? They are intended to help avoid situations that could make people feel uncomfortable. Reichert and Petri categorize these stations: The intimidating effect belongs to the first category. “When climbers appear self-confident, many people don’t dare to climb in,” says Reichert, referring, for example, to situations in which groups of men stand around a wall and don’t let anyone else get there. “That can be scary,” adds Petri.
The next stage includes invasive situations, then comes discrimination of any kind. The two women report personal experiences from the first and second categories. “Bouldering sports reflect what we also experience in society,” says Reichert, “namely that women, or in this case FLINTA* people, are discriminated against.”
Freddy Petri and Natascha Reichert (gray sweatshirt) in the climbing hall.
(Photo: Robert Haas)
Thomas Bucher also agrees with this. The spokesman for the German Alpine Club (DAV) is aware of the phenomenon. He reports on a survey from all 250 DAV climbing halls, which showed that many are struggling with these problems. The Alpine Club is trying to create a framework for “peaceful and non-discriminatory” coexistence. What the hall operators would then do with it would be at their discretion.
Bucher gives a positive example from a bouldering hall in Bremen: “Sustainability, social issues and inclusion are very important there.” Gender-neutral toilets, a ban on shirtless bouldering or evenings where “FLINTA*” people go bouldering.
In order to enable as many people as possible to take part, they always meet in different halls: “We don’t want to limit ourselves to one location,” says Reichert. They received a lot of support within the scene, but no bouldering hall in Munich took on the measures for a discrimination-free space.
“It’s also important to be able to share painful experiences.”
“An evening in which only FLINTA* people are allowed to boulder is currently unimaginable in Munich,” says Reichert. This is widespread in Berlin. The accomplices can’t understand this: “It would also be financially advantageous for the operators if more people from different backgrounds were approached,” says Petri, and felt comfortable. Petri and Reichert managed to do that, says Luna Blind. She has been there since the first meeting: “It’s a safe place for me.” You are “pushed” in a pleasant way and encouraged to dare more than usual.
“It’s also important to be able to share painful experiences,” says Petri. What will happen next for the “climbing accomplices” is still unclear. “We are happy if we can establish the meeting in Munich,” says Reichert. The joint “sessions” would ensure that everyone knows how to interact with each other. “Being kind,” says Petri, “that’s the most important thing.”