Bri Dostie

Contributing Writer

Author Bri Dostie with a native brook trout brought to net during field testing for this review. Photo courtesy Bri Dorstie.

Author Bri Dostie with a native brook trout brought to net during field testing for this review. Photo courtesy Bri Dorstie.

I’m Bri Dostie, coming from the home waters of the Wabanaki Confederacy in Maine, which range from still water ponds to massive rivers, from saltwater flats to spring-fed mountain brooks. I’ve been fortunate to fish beyond local spots as well and meet a diverse cast of fish species on my adventures through the western United States, Alaska, and the lakes region of Chile.

I’m a Maine Fishing Guide who teaches primarily beginner anglers—which informs my use of gear and keeps the frustrations and challenges of getting started in the sport at the top of my mind. I’m also the founder of Confluence Collective, a community where every body belongs on the water.

I’m coming to this sport having used hand-me-down gear built by and for people who don’t look like me.

Now, because of my job as a guide, I have access to countless rigs at fly fishing expos and shows—events that bring anglers and manufacturers together to show off the latest gear and try it out on casting ponds. These shows aren't very accessible, but with my privilege as a white, cis-gendered, industry insider, I'm more easily able to navigate these white- and male-dominated spaces. (And I can always throw on a plaid shirt and trucker hat to reinforce my perceived belonging.) BIPOC and LGBTQIA2S+ anglers are often othered at these events, and there's a lot of work still to do to remind the white angling community that they're not the only ones on the water. This article is aimed at reducing gatekeeping in fly fishing.

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