Photography by Luka Raubenheimer, John Respondek and Jack Gruber
This article was originally published in Volume XVII, February 2026
On first encounter, Jaleesa Vincent is disarmingly polite and softly spoken.
A stark contrast to the bold confidence of her work. Renowned for her epic performances (whether dancing or singing) whilst leading a range of personal projects, she brings something truly unique to the table. Jaleesa’s energy in these spaces mirrors her creativity in the water, and while surfing remains her primary forte, her work extends far beyond riding a surfboard. Premier tours, film projects, music releases, painting, and shaping boards under her own unapologetically expressive brand all help tell a fuller story.
Having stepped away from competitive surfing long ago, Jaleesa has built a career defined more by creativity than by titles. She blends performance, craft, and storytelling in ways that quietly challenge what free surfing can look like in 2026. With her recent addition to the legendary V-Stone, it felt like the perfect moment for us to catch up. We spoke with her about the many disciplines she navigates… and we’re here for it all.
Where did you grow up, and how did you first get into surfing?
I grew up in Coolum on the Sunshine Coast. My parents moved there from out west and basically said, “We live by the beach now, so you kids should surf.” We had a couple of second-hand boards lying around and just taught ourselves by getting smashed in the shorebreak until we figured it out.
Did you compete in your youth? When did you know it wasn’t for you?
Yeah, I did boardriders and all the junior comps growing up, and after I finished school, I even did a couple of QS events. But I pretty quickly realised it wasn’t really for me. I wasn’t competitive enough. I hated having to hassle for waves, especially when friends would be in the same heat, snake you like crazy, and then afterwards be like, “what happens in the water stays in the water.” I was like… you’re all bitches.
I didn’t love the energy around comps either — even free-surfing near them felt tense and weird, just not my vibe. I also wasn’t sponsored, so it was insanely expensive to travel around doing events. I was working five different jobs just to save enough money to do one QS in Mexico. I needed a 2.8 to get through the heat. The surf was tiny and terrible. I took off, did a tiny turn, and got a 2.5. On the next wave, I went for a finner, stacked it, and got a sea urchin stuck in my bum cheek. I didn’t make the heat, went and drank margaritas, and honestly, that was the moment I decided I was done with competitions forever. I think I quit when I was about 18, and it ended up being one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I really blossomed after that — just going on fun surf trips with people I actually wanted to be around, surfing waves I loved, riding fun boards, and surfing however I wanted. I started making little creative surf edits and just genuinely having fun again.
Where do you call home these days?
Right now, I’m travelling so much that home is kind of wherever my board bag lands. But I’d love to eventually be home more, have a veggie garden, some animals, and a little studio to make things in.
JUJU The Surf Musical was a huge project. How did it come to life, and what were the biggest challenges?
Luka (my partner) and I love making movies, and I’ve always loved theatre and dancing, so it all came together pretty naturally. But the actual process was huge — writing the script, the songs, the choreography, teaching the routines, organising shoot days, taking over the Boardriders HQ reception desk for a few hours, and tracking down Occy, who is quite hard to pin down.
The night we filmed with Creed under the waterfall was hectic. We’d scouted it earlier when it was mellow, but then it poured down rain the day before, and the waterfall turned into a full-force fire hose. The hike in was muddy and slippery with all our gear. And under the waterfall, it was so loud that Creed could barely hear the music he was meant to sing along to. Somehow, he absolutely nailed it. We hiked out around midnight, drenched and covered in mud.
Tell us about your background in singing, dancing, and performing.
I started dancing when I was six: jazz, ballet, contemporary, hip hop, tap… everything. I danced almost every afternoon and surfed when I could. When I was about twelve, I had to choose between a Disneyland dance trip and the Australian Surf Titles. I picked surfing, and that was the turning point.
JUJU was the first time I’d mixed dancing and surfing again, which felt really nice. And now I tap dance and sing in a band called Cupid and the Stupids, which is a fun outlet.
That’s epic. Can you tell us a bit more about the band? What genre of music would you describe it as?
Wimpy, thrashy rock ‘n’ roll music about love. We’re a six-piece band, so it’s pretty chaotic, loud, and very fun. It’s messy in a good way and never too serious.
Do you still make time to paint?
Whenever I stay in one place long enough for oil paint to actually dry, I love painting. Oils are tricky when you travel because they take ages to dry, and I’m slow and detailed. 2026 is already pretty packed as I’m making a Vampire Surf movie (laughs) but I’m hoping 2027 is the year I get proper time to paint again.
What artists inspire you? And any at all time favourites?
I’m obsessed with medieval art and its grotesque beauty: strange creatures, saints, and monsters existing side by side. Since I was a kid, I’ve also loved Frida Kahlo and Salvador Dalí. Their surreal worlds, where pain, desire, and fantasy blur together, have always felt very familiar to me.
Did you have time to visit any exhibitons when you were last in Europe?
I saw works by Dalí and Leonor Fini in Paris at the Surrealism exhibition at the Centre Pompidou, celebrating the movement’s 100th anniversary. I was excited to get home and paint!
Any hobbies people might not know about?
I’m learning to shape surfboards — which is constant trial and error. I also like making animations, movies, writing songs, skeleton articulation, crocheting, sewing… I definitely keep myself entertained.
In a world full of content, do you think having a creative point of difference matters?
I think it helps, but mostly I just try to be myself. If you follow what you’re genuinely into, you naturally end up doing something a bit different anyway.
Freesurfing still has far fewer women than men. Why do you think that is, and what’s the hardest part about being a woman in surfing?
Freesurfing isn’t just surfing — there’s a creative element to it too, and that can be a lot to juggle. But I think we’ll see more and more women in that space soon.
One tricky part is getting put into the “bikini model” box. It’s expected in a way that’s not expected of guys. It’s pretty hard to rip in a bikini without your tits falling out (laughs).
What advice would you give young girls wanting to surf professionally while pursuing creative interests?
Focus on the little things that make you proud. Those stack up. Just do your thing.
You’re often the only girl on surf trips. Has that always been the case? Any downsides?
Yeah, I grew up surfing with my older brother and his friends, so that dynamic feels normal to me. Lots of beers, lots of froth, and they hype me up to surf harder.
The only downside is there’s no ‘girls night’ — no slutty pop-rap, no twerking, no chaos. Just beer and barrels with the boys (laughs).
Any standout trips over the last couple years with those guys?
The last Rage boat trip to the Mentawais was pretty wild. Lots of beers, lots of carnage. I got picked up from a surf break by a small transfer boat that came way too deep into the lineup. A bomb set came through, and we were racing out to sea trying to get over it, but didn’t quite make it. The boat hit the wave like a ramp and fully launched into the air. All the surfboards flew out, I went flying, and landed face-first into a metal rail — sliced my eyelid open, and gave myself a massive black eye.
Luckily, the main boat captain is a seasoned stitch-up guy and sewed my eye straight away. I kept surfing every day after, only able to open one eye, and absolutely terrifying people in the lineup. I’d get smoked, and people would think I’d just done it and freak out, checking if I’m ok.
A few days later, Shaun split his chin open so badly it looked like a second mouth — more stitches. Wade snapped about eight boards. Noa broke a few too…
Tell us about PUSSY SURFBOARDS — how did it start?
I wanted to make a surfboard brand that celebrated the feminine and the flamboyant. Surf culture can be pretty macho and beige. When I was younger, I toned down parts of myself to fit in with the boys, but now I want to lean into colour, personality, and fun. PUSSY Surfboards is about not being afraid to be yourself — whatever that looks like.
Do you shape the boards and design the merch yourself?
Yep — I do the boards and design the merch. And my mum sews everything.
Where do you see PUSSY SURFBOARDS in five years?
Right now, I’m focused on getting better at shaping and letting everything grow in its own weird, organic Pussy way. But one day I’d love to make a heap of boards, gather a Pussy crew, go on a full Pussy surf trip where everyone rides the Pussy, and turn it into a frivolous surf movie.
You recently signed with Volcom. Any upcoming projects you can talk about?
I’m so stoked — Volcom was my dream sponsor when I was a kid. I used to send Shane Azar my surf clips and paintings, trying to get their attention, so it’s funny that it finally happened over ten years later. Dreams come true!
I’m already working on a collection with them, which is exciting, and I’ll be filming some clips too. Keen to work with Noa and Ozzy — it’s a fun team.
If you weren’t surfing for a living, what would you be doing?
Probably a backup dancer for Beyoncé.
