Breyting® (brā-tîng) Icelandic for change.
As positive change pioneers, Breyting has devoted a lifetime to developing strategies for overcoming barriers using humorous and playful guerrilla marketing to inspire our adversaries to become allies for change. What began as a small group of friends learning to create change now drop knowledge bombs that spark movements.

This unintentional journey began in the 1980s, determined to find a place to skate & ride without being harassed by "the man." This was an era before skateboarding and BMX were considered subcultures. We were just "crazy kids throwing their bodies and bikes at walls," as one police officer wrote in his report.

Through a common bond to live our lifestyle on our terms and a ton of tenacity, we organized petition-signing parties and knowledge bombed the community to shift the mindsets of city planners and the community to see the benefits of skateparks and BMX tracks. We used stickers, street posters, and public demonstrations like handcuffing ourselves to city-owned buildings while holding signs that said, "Don't make us criminals; legalize skateparks." Eventually, the naysayers allowed the parks to be built, and they became avid supporters. This struggle taught us a valuable lesson: "They are our friends; they just don't know it yet."

They tried their best to hate us, but eventually, we persuaded the naysayers to allow the parks to be built, and they became avid supporters. This struggle taught us a valuable lesson: "They are our friends; they just don't know it yet."

Our search for things to skate & ride took us to the streets, where we were confronted with the hardships of the homeless. We didn't know what to do, but we knew we were hungry, so they must have been hungry too. We raided our parents' pantries (thank you, moms), made peanut butter sandwiches, filled our backpacks, and handed them out to the hungry as we shredded through towns, looking for things to conquer with our skateboards and bikes. While passing through small rural towns in Georgia, we stopped at a small craft peanut butter farm and asked if they could donate some peanut butter to our cause, which started our alliances with small manufacturers. We found a bakery in Florida that graciously donated bread and, together with the labor from our friends, made thousands of sandwiches. Other skateboarders did it in their towns; it became known as peanut butter runs. We didn't solve the homeless problem but we did what we could with what we had then.  

While exploring America looking for ditches and anything with vert, we met a friend who was sexually abused by his family and later found himself at a boarding school entangled in the troubled teen industry's for-profit net. There, he was abused again by the very people who were paid by his parent's insurance company to protect him and help him. Forced to face another betrayal and the thing worse than death—being unloved—Joey hung himself.

At trial, the boarding school's attorney spun this tragic event and used it as evidence to argue that this was the very reason why Joey needed to be in the treatment program. How do you fight a massive industry and teams of attorneys with misguided moral compasses? Well, we couldn't at that time, but we could organize and go to court with others to face their abusers together. We could bear witness to the injustice and write letters to the abusers, who hid behind their authority and smirks. We could help non-profits fighting for reform raise money and awareness—which we still do today.

In our travels to Southeast Asia, we saw people, including children, missing body parts and learned that Laos has 80 million unexploded ordnances—bombs left over from the wars. How do you solve a multibillion-dollar problem? We can't; it's an injustice beyond the comprehension of the human mind. But we could create an innovative coffee brand and license it to roasteries to fund a marketing campaign that let the world know there are still 80 million unexploded bombs killing Lao people. We could send love letters with coffee to world leaders asking for their support, which we still do decades later.

We met farmers in other countries who did not know how to overcome the corrupt hold their local market had on them so they could sell their coffee abroad, afford to educate their children, and escape poverty. We didn't know how to stop the corruption, nor did the U.S. embassy. But we did know how to apply knowledge and our labor, build relationships, and introduce villages of small family-owned farmers to coffee importers and roasters worldwide, resulting in millions of pounds a year of coffee being exported to new markets.

Wherever Breyting saw injustice and the need for change, we did what we could with what we had: our creativity, the things we made, our knowledge, and our collective determination to make a difference. We have raised millions for small grassroots movements and accomplished some extraordinary achievements with little money. On the flip side, we faced despair, defeat, and exhaustion, and all we had to offer was our human connection; cry together and try to make sense of senseless injustice.

With hundreds of positive actions and campaigns behind us, Breyting is reorganizing in 2025/2026 and transforming itself into a not-for-profit with the mission of "leveraging the creative arts and fundraising innovations to mobilize movements." Through www.Breyting.com and the support of activists, artists, and craft manufacturers worldwide, Breyting continues to create multi-sensory experiences that combine music, limited-edition products, stunning visuals, and knowledge-sharing to empower people everywhere to create positive change.