The Shape of Becoming

The Shape of Becoming

For Ben Soto, the ocean is a place to craft his identity and find his grace.

The Gray Water

There is a specific kind of light at Bolsa Chica in the fall. It is heavy, gray, and leans over the Pacific like a curtain. If you look closely at that shoreline, you might imagine a young boy sitting on the sand—or rather, a child who looks like one. That was Ben, decades ago, clutching a surfboard that felt far too large, his father reading the morning paper nearby. Back then, the name was different, and the internal weather was turbulent. The world was a series of closed doors, and for a kid growing up in a conservative pocket of Orange County, the ocean was the only place where the noise stopped.

“The person I am now and the person that I was back then are two totally different people,” Ben says. He is forty-five now, his voice steady and grounded. He remembers the frustration of those early years—the persistent, quiet ache of being someone the world didn't have a word for yet. Being transgender in the 1980s was a solitary existence, a secret held tight against the chest. “In the ocean, you are free, and all your worries are left behind you,” he reflects. It was the first place he learned that he could simply exist without having to explain himself to anyone.

After the session

The quiet company of those who see you exactly as you are

In the ocean, you are free, and all your worries are left behind you

The Long Road to Ben

It took until his early twenties for the landscape to shift. It started with a simple recommendation from a girlfriend to watch an Oprah special on trans lives. That hour of television was a mirror. There was relief in the recognition, but also the sharp, cold edge of fear. What followed was a deliberate, methodical march toward a life he could recognize in the mirror. He navigated the bureaucratic labyrinth of the era: years of therapy, letters of recommendation, hormones, and surgery. To Ben, the hoops weren't an insult; they were a threshold. He needed to be sure. He needed to survive.

“Once I made the decision to do this and I started moving forward, there was nothing that was gonna stop me,” he says. “This is what I need to do to change my life so I can move forward and be a functioning member of society.”

The shaping shed

Every millimeter of the craft carries the weight of a second life

A Sculptor on the Sand

After he transitioned, the ocean—that early sanctuary—waited for him. It wasn't just a place to ride waves anymore; it became a place to build. When he moved back into his childhood home, he reclaimed a shed his grandfather had built years ago. Inside that shed, among the dust and the ghosts of his own youth, Ben began to shape surfboards. He started small, crafting hand planes, then moved on to blanks he dragged home from the coast.

Doheny waters

Service is just another way to find harmony in the tide

He calls his label SOTO Surfcraft. When he talks about shaping, he speaks like a man who has finally found his rhythm. “It’s like a sculptor that you can go have fun with,” he says. He makes everything from gliders to retro fish, and he has a particular love for upcycling broken boards into belly boards. It’s a second life for something discarded, a theme that isn't lost on him.

Morning light

All the noise of the past dissolves into the rhythm of a wave

The Workshop

It’s like a sculptor that you can go have fun with.

Aloha in the Lineup

There is a misconception that the surf community in a place like Orange County—with its conservative reputation—would be a difficult stage for an openly queer, trans man. But Ben’s experience has been one of quiet, steady acceptance. He treats the lineup with aloha, and it returns the favor. He serves on the board of the Doheny Longboard Surfing Association, balancing club logistics with his own time in the water.

When he competes, no one asks questions. He shows up as himself, a short guy with a distinctive voice, doing the work, catching the glide. “When I’m surfing, only two things matter to me in that moment, and that’s God and the ocean,” he says. He hasn't faced the friction one might expect; instead, he has found a community that values what he brings to the water rather than the shape of his history.

Found materials

What once seemed broken is given the chance to rise again

Lineup

Only two things matter in that moment.

The Infinite Glide

Whether he is prone paddling, practicing jujitsu, or glassing a new board in his shed, Ben carries a sense of profound gratitude. He is living in the house where he was raised, in a community that has become a home, doing work that feeds his soul. The chaos of his youth has settled into a calm, focused intent.

He isn't looking for accolades or a grand transformation. He is looking for the energy of a wave, that singular moment of connection where everything—the past, the struggle, the labels—fades into the background. For Ben, the goal isn't just to surf; it’s to catch that glide. It is, in the end, the only thing that matters: the feeling of moving forward, perfectly in sync with the pull of the tide.

Newport break

A singular pursuit where God and the ocean remain the only judges

The Shape of Becoming