Over the past few decades, Imani Wilmot’s last name has become synonymous with Jamaican surf culture. Her father, Billy Wilmot, is a Jamaican surfing legend who owns Jamnesia Surf Camp in Bull Bay, a short drive from Kingston. Her older brother Icah was the island’s first pro surfer and her younger brother Ivah has been gaining exposure as of late for his groovy, laidback style mixed with a progressive flair. As for Imani, she’s started a women-only surf club of sorts, “Surf Girls Jamaica”, with the aim of empowering local women.

She’s also the subject of a recently released documentary, also titled “Surf Girls Jamaica”, which takes a close look at how Imani’s camp has played a role in women’s lives in the area. According to Imani, who played a crucial role in the production of the film, many Jamaican women around Kingston deal with sexual harassment and financial hardships on a regular basis, and she’s found that the act of paddling out and catching waves can help empower these women in unexpected ways. After watching the documentary (above), we called up Imani to dive deeper into why she started the program and what made her want to tell this story.

It doesn’t really come as a surprise that you started Surf Girls Jamaica–it seems like helping other people through the sport of surfing is in your blood. Can you tell me how you came to start the camp?

My dad was one of the first Jamaicans to get into surfing and he taught us kids–there’s 5 of us–to surf. We’ve had the Jamnesia Surf Camp here for years; as long as I can remember we’ve been having surfers and visitors just staying here, experiencing the waves. Once we started having organized competitions here in Jamaica, I realized it was always the same set of girls entering the contests. We didn’t have much, really, in terms of competition and I figured it [women’s surfing in Jamaica] wasn’t advancing very well. So, in 2010, I started my first all-girls surf camp–it was like a one-week boot camp, and at the end of it we had a mini surf contest so all the girls could experience what a surf contest was like. Since then I saw that there was a big interest and I realized a lot of girls didn’t get into it because one, they didn’t know about it or they just didn’t have the means to get into it. It’s a pretty expensive sport to get into–especially here since there are no surf shops. Right now we meet every Sunday and it’s kind of turned into a big sisterhood. That support system is very important.

You touched on this in the doc, but what are some struggles women deal with in Jamaica and how do you think surfing can help them deal with those situations?

Women deal with a lot of sexual harassment in Jamaica and most people don’t really notice it because it’s so culturally ingrained. You could be walking down the street and some guy will hiss at you, tell you how much he likes your body and what he wants to do to it. Some of them will try to grab you and if you tell him you’re not interested, he’ll turn around and yell at you. And because it’s so normal in society, women don’t know how to deal with it and you find a lot of cases of women being depressed because they just have a hard time coping. This environment lets them feel comfortable–it’s not about what they look like. Nobody here is hitting on you or making you feel uncomfortable.

Have you seen a major transformation in any of the women, in terms of confidence or self-esteem since you started the program?

Actually, I’ve seen transformations in all of them. There’s one girl who barely got any mention in the movie–I’ve seen her struggle with body issues. And Mel [the woman at the beginning of the doc] deals with self-esteem issues. It’s hard for her to get a job because she has a record and she wants to work with kids. It’s tough because if you’re going to work with kids you’ve got to have a background check and that’s going to be a red flag. That got her down and hanging with all the wrong sorts of people and I’ve seen her turn her life around and become positive. Since we shot that, she started working as a swim instructor now and she’s feeling really positive about that. Even Terry is trying to do better for herself and her son by trying not to settle with a low-paying job. We actually have a WhatsApp group where we all share and rant about whatever we need to say.

Towards the end of the doc, when some of these girls and women are catching a few waves, you really get a sense for how much joy surfing brings these women, being able to relax and let down their guard for a second.

Exactly. They don’t feel like they are being judged in any way. I think that’s what drives me, too–seeing that drive in them and believing in themselves that they can do this. You know, Terry can’t swim, but she’ll come every Sunday, scared as heck to fall off, but she’s still going to try, she’s still going to stand, you know? They really look forward to it.

It sounds like your goal with this is to not only empower women to feel strong and capable but to increase diversity in the lineup and help women of color feel like they belong–is that right?

Exactly. A lot of people think that Jamaica is an island and that everyone loves the oceans, which is true, but most Jamaicans don’t know how to swim. And if they do go to the beach, they just stand at the edge. There’s this historical fear that dates far back that people have to now learn to overcome. Also, a lot of women don’t get into the water because they’re not sure how to deal with their hair when it gets wet. It’s a constant comment that I hear and it’s enough to prevent these women from actually trying surfing. This is why I think there needs to be more dialogue and communication and nurturing groups like Surf Girls Jamaica where women can come and talk about these things and figure out how we can help each other get in the water–to remove all these barriers preventing women from getting in the water and accessing the sport.

The stories of Terry and Melissa at the beginning of the film are really powerful. Was it your idea to make the documentary and tell these stories?

I’ve been approached by people before to tell this story, but I never really felt like I found the right people to tell it. So when they approached me [Joya Berrow and Lucy Jan of the Cornwall-based production company The Right To Roam], I looked at all their work, I saw that they are very keen on focusing on sports, environmental work and women. In terms of telling the story, I was very hands-on with it. I was very adamant that they couldn’t put out anything without me and if I didn’t like a shot, I wanted it out. We even had a point where I don’t think they really went into the story as deep as I wanted to. Even though it’s people’s personal lives, sometimes you have to go a little beyond what people are comfortable with to get that story out.

Has there been any struggles trying to convince women to join the program?

A big struggle is financial because some girls who are interested can’t just head out every week because it’s going to cost them–whether they have to take the bus or whatever. Also not having enough equipment is difficult because we don’t have enough learner boards and everyone has to take turns. We have zero surf shops here, so some girls don’t have rash guards and things that are going to make them comfortable. We started a GoFundMe page to try to help with that. [ED Note: Click here if you’d like to donate]. All the money would go to getting boards, helping with certain transportation issues and trying to get repair kits.

What do you see this program looking like in 5 years?

Well, ideally it would be bigger, better and more organized. I know that one of the things I would like to do is at the end of a certain period, I could take these girls out and give them a surf trip, even if it’s in Jamaica. Just to pack them up in a bus and spend a weekend sleeping in a tent and experiencing what that surf trip vibe would be like. My big dream is that we will have a group of girls that could travel around the world and represent Jamaica on an international, professional level some day.