In the Huntington Beach warehouse home of Moxi Skates’ headquarters, eight employees huddled around a television screen. Nearly eight minutes later, everyone was in tears.

The waterworks were prompted by a mini documentary by Nike that featured five Long Beach based-female roller skaters selected for their efforts in paving the way both inside and outside of Long Beach for a more inclusive and diverse skate community.

One of these skaters is Courtney Shove, a Black, queer and plus-size roller skater who is known to her 70,000 online fans as Fat Girl Has Moxi. Through her platform, the 34-year-old skater has made it her mission to redefine traditional notions of what it means to look and feel like a roller skater.

“I cried watching myself cry, which is hilarious,” said Shove, referencing a scene where she opened up about how the sport and her tight-knit sisterhood of skaters helped her overcome a crippling depression.

“Every time I watch it, I bawl my brains out because I love Shove so much. She’s so strong,” said Michelle Steilin, Moxi Skates’ founder, who was also featured in the film.

Shove, Steilin and all of the skaters in the film were proud and excited to share their messages of self-love, body positivity and inclusivity to the world. But they would have to wait a few more weeks until its release on March 30.

When the morning of the release arrived, it was nearly 7 a.m. when Shove said she discovered a promotional clip of the film on Nike’s Instagram page that was already netting thousands of views. But her elation turned to horror when she scrolled through the comments section.

“It was super fat-phobic, womanizing everything—it was horrible,” she said.

The barrage of vitriol ranged from puking emojis to body shaming to racist, anti-trans and homophobic slurs. Some threatened to boycott Nike for promoting the women.

“The worst [body shaming] are the ones that were like, ‘we’re just worried about your health,’” Shove said. “I’m like, that’s fake concern.”

What’s more, none within her skate community had seen the video yet, which meant there were no positive messages to balance the negativity. It was overwhelming, she said.

“The skate community is very open and loving and accepting to everyone. And I forget that the ‘real world,’ as they call it, is not like that,” she explained. “So, I think I was just so excited [for the video] that I didn’t even prepare myself mentally.”

Shove went to work that day at Moxi headquarters and tried, unsuccessfully, to slough off the negativity and self-doubt swirling in her mind. But then it occurred to her: Why wallow, when she could act?

“I’m going to turn this pain into art,” she said. “I’m going to make a video. F**k them, I’m still me, this pity party is over. I’m going to go back to reclaiming my fat body.”

Set to a music iteration of Maya Angelou’s poem “Still I Rise,” Shove overlaid screenshots of the hateful comments to a video of her undressing, revealing her curvy self clad in a bright red bikini rolling up and down a rainbow-painted half-pipe in her backyard. It was powerful, beautiful, and Shove said, very cathartic.

https://www.instagram.com/tv/CNEQN_rBsDS/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

But, perhaps more importantly, it reinforced why Shove chooses to share her life and love for roller-skating online: to prove that anyone, of any shape or size, can skate and feel proud and confident in their skin, just as she’s learned to do.

Freedom on eight wheels

Although Shove considers the saying just a tad cliché, skates really did change her life.

Four years ago, while in the dregs of a relationship with a boyfriend who she said turned out to be very manipulative and abusive, both physically and emotionally, a friend encouraged Shove to join the Beach Cities Roller Derby team. Her boyfriend protested, but she insisted.

It was a pivotal moment for her, she said, because it was the first time in their relationship she “drew the line in the sand.” From there, she began to reclaim her independence and self-confidence.

It’s also where she met her girlfriend and fellow roller-skating influencer, Rebel, of Queer Girl Straight Skates.

“I think being around so many women, it was empowering. Getting knocked down, picking yourself back up…I think finding that power to push made me able to eventually leave that relationship,” she said.

Over time, Shove began to modify her style to match the glow she felt from her own inner-healing. Baggy T-shirts were traded for neon crop-tops. Shiny pleather short-shorts replaced jeans. She could look in the mirror and appreciate the way the clothes hugged every curve, roll and divot on her body and feel like she belonged in them.

Courtney Shove in skates on her skate ramp in her backyard in Long Beach Monday, April 12, 2021. Photo by Thomas R. Cordova.

A year later, after breaking in her skates, Shove launched her Instagram account, Fat Girl Has Moxi (the name a play on words and shoutout to her favorite roller skate brand, before she was later hired to the company) with a plan to shake up the whitewashed, cookie cutter image of the online roller skating scene.

Even before the pandemic-era boom in rollerskating, Shove noticed that platforms such as Instagram and TikTok were inundated with visions of thin, white women effortlessly coasting through side streets and boardwalks, dancing to Top 40 pop hits.

Where, she thought, were the women who looked like her? Turns out, you have to dig.

“That representation, even though people are out there, they’re not visible,” she explained. “On social media, because of the algorithm, you have to search for Black [queer and plus-size] skaters, you have to save those videos.”

To remedy this, Shove started the hashtag, #fatskatelove on Instagram to help other skaters find each other and their content online. To date, the hashtag counts nearly 10,000 tags on the platform.

Pre-pandemic, in 2019, Shove organized a body-positivity rollout that drew over 200 skaters. The women bombed Junipero Hill, storming the street like a rainbow cavalcade. Shove said she had to cancel 2020’s rollout but plans to continue it once she feels it’s safe enough for a group of that size to gather.

But another key point to Shove’s online success story is her decision to share the raw, unedited, and unfiltered parts of her skating journey, both the highs and lows. Shove frequently posts videos of her falling, serving as both a reminder and motivator to beginners that the sport isn’t easy—despite what TikTok and Instagram’s viral videos might lead one to believe.

She also shares her vulnerabilities with her audience.

“I straight up say, I’m depressed today. I haven’t eaten in three days, or this is what’s going on,” she explained. “I’ve always been unapologetically me.”

On a platform like Instagram that is heavily curated and aesthetically driven, Shove said she sees that her content resonates with her reality-craving audience and it, in turn, motivates her to keep going.

“A lot of people message me saying I never thought I could have done this until I saw you,” she said. “So, every day I put myself out there because I know if I would have seen someone like me when I was little then I would have started [skating] a lot sooner.”

Long Beach Strong

Shove said Nike did not reach out to her regarding the online hate, though the film’s creator, Erynn Patrick, who does not work for Nike, expressed her sympathies and support.

Not long after the film’s release, Shove said the marquee sign at the Nike By Long Beach store at 2nd & PCH was changed to a more body positive skating message.

Nike media relations were unable to be reached, despite multiple interview requests, to confirm or deny the connection of the sign to Shove and the skate documentary. But the Nike By Long Beach store does not sell roller skates, or any roller skate-related merchandise, a team member at the store confirmed.

The marquee now reads: “If you have a body you can roller-skate.”

Photo by Courtney Shove.

Editors note: Rebel is Courtney Shove’s girlfriend, not fiancee as originally reported. Two of the skaters featured in the Nike doc identify as non-binary, the word “women” was redacted in reference to the group.