How are YOU telling the story of Sneaker Culture?

Contributing in a meaningful way.

We have a need for more authentic voices to step up and contribute in a meaningful way, without needing to be incentivized. Less complaining, more shaping the history that is being written right now. More control over how the stories we have are told.

I recently read an article that listed J Balvin as a hip-hop legend, and that got me thinking. No matter how much information is out there to be consumed, sometimes the perception and interpretation of it need to be clarified—or even corrected—by people who lived it. Not just read about it. Not just tweeted a hot take. But actually felt the impact of these moments as they happened.

This is not meant to gatekeep sneaker culture. In fact, one of the best things about this culture is how inclusive it is. Sneakers are one of the few things that cross every kind of line—age, background, income, identity. It’s always been a meeting place. But at the same time, we can’t act like all voices carry the same weight. Sometimes, there’s nothing like hearing a story from someone who’s been in it for decades. Someone who remembers what it was like before sneakers were on every social media platform, before resale apps, before influencers.

We need stories told by people who’ve been at the intersection of sports, music, and sneakers. Who grew up in neighborhoods where sneakers weren’t just fashion—they were status, pride, are, and even survival. We need more voices that can explain the connection between a certain sneaker and a moment in culture. Like what it meant to wear Uptempos in the 90s (something I can’t do). Or what it was like spending hours on YouTube in the early 2010s watching sneaker collection videos from the likes of Clark Kent, Bobbito, and many more.

Sneakers create connection. They always have. A connection that often pulls us into a broader world, then, somehow, brings us right back to sneakers. They’re the thread. This passion might be weird to some, but to others, like you and me, it carries identity, geography, influence, and time. If you were there, you know the difference.

I’m not sure if I’m articulating this the “right” way. But maybe that’s the point. Sometimes what needs to be said doesn’t need polish—it just needs truth. I guess what I’m really trying to say is: we need more meaningful contributions. I’m not talking about viral moments or content creators chasing engagement. I’m talking about conversations and reflections that someone will stumble on years from now and feel. Something that might live on someone’s blog, or buried in an archive somewhere, but when the right person finds it, they’ll know. They’ll get it.

That’s who I’m writing for. The ones who care enough to dig deep. The ones who remember how it felt, not just what was released.

Maybe you feel like your story isn’t big enough. Maybe you think someone else already said it better. But trust me, your voice matters. Your memory of that first pair you searched for (shoutout to MyFirstKicks), that moment someone walked into school with a colorway you’d never seen before, or that summer anticipation of which pair you would get to start the school year off with, that’s part of the culture too.

We don’t need perfect lighting or big platforms. We need people who remember what it felt like to walk into a Footlocker in 2006. Who know what it meant to finally buy a pair with your own money. That’s real. That’s sneaker culture.

And this isn’t just about nostalgia. It’s about preserving what this all really meant, and means. It’s about making sure that ten years from now, someone looking back doesn’t have to piece it together from tweets, viral clips, and washed-down documentaries. They can hear it from the people who actually lived it.

We’ve let the loudest voices shape too much. We’ve let algorithms tell our stories. That’s how wild claims make it into articles and get reposted with no context. That’s how timelines get rewritten. That’s how culture gets erased. If we don’t speak, someone else will—and they might not get it right.

So I ask: why not contribute?

You don’t need to go viral. You don’t need a million followers. You just need the willingness to speak on what you saw, what you felt, and what it meant to you. If enough of us do that, the picture becomes clearer. The culture becomes fuller. The story becomes ours.

We’re currently writing sneaker history, right now. Not ten years from now. Not after the next sneaker comes out. Now. So, which side do you want to be on? The side that complains it’s not being told right, or someone who helps tell it right? Someone who adds their piece, so the full picture exists from a primary source.

I know where I stand.