Skiing has long been seen as an elite, overwhelmingly white sport, one where British Asian faces are still relatively rare. But that picture is slowly beginning to change, as more people from Asian backgrounds discover snow sports later in life and carve out a sense of belonging on the slopes.
For Shrimoyee Chakraborty, skiing was not a childhood tradition but something she found by chance after moving to the UK, and eventually embraced as a family way of life.
Chakraborty moved to Britain from India in 2010, aged 20. At the time, skiing felt distant and inaccessible. “A lot of my friends used to go, but I didn’t,” she recalls. “Later, when I was working for a think tank, some colleagues suggested a ski trip, but it was incredibly expensive and I decided not to go.”
Her first real introduction came through a friend whose father owned a ski chalet in Verbier. “That was the first time I went skiing properly,” she says. What began as a one-off experience soon became something more enduring. Chakraborty later started skiing regularly with her partner, now her husband, a self-confessed ski enthusiast. “I took to it quite naturally and managed to ski confidently on my very first day,” she says. More than a decade later, the couple now ski several times a year.
Unlike many lifelong skiers, Chakraborty did not grow up in a family where snow sports were the norm. “My husband is the real ski maniac — he even has a ski licence,” she laughs.
What keeps drawing her back, she says, is the balance skiing offers. “It’s a fun holiday because you’re active and outdoors all day. Especially once you have a child, it becomes a really positive experience; you’re not just switching off, you’re engaged.” While she acknowledges skiing remains expensive and largely elitist, she believes its physical and mental benefits make it worthwhile for those who can afford it. “You’re moving all day, spending proper quality time together, often in sunshine, which makes a huge difference when winters in the UK feel so grey.”
That sense of adventure extends to how the family skis with their daughter, a decision that challenges more cautious attitudes often found in Indian households. “I’m actually not risk-averse at all,” Chakraborty says. Her daughter was just nine months old when she first went skiing, strapped safely to her father. By the age of one, she was wearing ski boots and showing clear enjoyment. “She loves the adrenaline.”
Now five, Chakraborty’s daughter can ski confidently, having learned largely from her father when ski schools deemed her too young. “He would take her between his legs and guide her down,” she explains. Despite the cold and cumbersome equipment, her daughter never complained.
Being one of few brown faces on the slopes is something Chakraborty notices, but it’s not something that unsettles her. “I’ve been a minority my whole life,” she says. “Women, especially brown women in Europe, are used to navigating spaces where we’re not the majority.” While Indian skiers were once rare, she believes visibility is growing, fuelled by domestic skiing in Kashmir and Leh and increasing social media exposure. “The lack of representation is more about access than exclusion.”
She is clear, however, that skiing comes with its own culture and etiquette. “You can retain your identity and still respect the space you’re in,” she says. “If you behave completely out of place, like filming reels in the middle of a slope, people will look, not because of racism, but because it’s unsafe and disruptive.”
As more British Asians find their way onto the mountains, stories like hers highlight a quiet shift, one where snow sports are no longer reserved for those who grew up with them, but for anyone willing to learn, adapt and take the leap.
