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In the context of skateparks, the word fundraising implies one thing: If skaters want a safe place to skate they had better be prepared to do much of the work and raise at least some of the money themselves. That’s right—before a skatepark can be built, somebody will need to ask the community for money.
Bev Heyer phoned personalities from the Reality TV show "Survivor" and
arranged for them to take part in a skatepark fundraiser that made over
$25,000.
Many passionate advocates may be telling themselves right now that there’s an inequity here. Did the area youth baseball club have to pay for all those empty baseball fields? When was the last time the local basketball club washed cars for donations (to buy asphalt and hoops, not their plane tickets to the State Finals)? Did all the children have to break piggy banks to pay for those swing sets?
Why should skaters have to raise money for a place to recreate when nobody else had to? It probably has something to do with cities not liking skateboarders because they’re perceived as bad kids, right?
Wrong. It might be unfair assuming that it was accurate. That is not to say it is “fair” that most large American cities don’t have a single small facility for their thousands of skateboarding youth, who must then risk fines and even their own lives just to recreate in the streets. All of those baseball fields, basketball courts, and swing sets were fought for by someone like yourself; someone who felt passionate enough for the need that they stuck it out. All of those facilities cost money, almost all of which had been aggressively fought for by advocates, whether they’re residents or city employees.
It’s not as though your city has a room filled with gold, ready to be spent. Most of the money for those facilities came from taxes paid by citizens. At the beginning of each fiscal cycle, every penny of it is aggressively carved from the city budget by those entrusted to manage the city (or county). While the cost to site, build, and maintain a skatepark may pale in comparison to the other projects being considered by a community, that half-million dollars would go a long way toward funding many other projects that someone considers essential—and there are many people out there ready to make a case for why their cause is more important than a skatepark. When it comes to allocating public money, it’s dog eat dog.
On the other hand, near the end of the fiscal year, if there is money left over, the City or Parks and Recreation Department often must spend it (“use it or lose it”) or else that surplus won’t be included in next year’s allocation. They can be very agreeable to the skatepark project if they must find a place to use that money quickly. This information might require an inside source who can alert the advocacy group of leftover budget dollars.
Skateparks are on the cusp of becoming an understood and accepted recreational amenity for every community. Until that happens, skatepark advocates must simply work harder to build a case than those who promote Little League baseball, basketball, or playgrounds. Today’s skatepark advocates are pioneering this process, and every success helps the next advocate build a stronger case for their project. As that continues, fundraising will become less strenuous as cities (and the citizens who work and live there) come to accept skateparks as vital components of healthy communities.
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