Under a sunny July sky at Liberty Station, about 50 people wobble, whirl and groove on roller skates to neo soul remixes.
Stacie Watkins cheers them on, wearing a jersey that says “Black Skate SD.”
Watkins started roller-skating during the 2020 COVID pandemic.
“I was in a really toxic relationship, so I wanted to, you know, heal from childhood trauma. So one of the things I went back to was roller skating, because I used to do it as a young child,” she said.
Watkins wanted private lessons, but couldn’t find a Black instructor. She said that was important for her because roller-skating culture is Black culture.
Roller skating rinks began dotting the American landscape during the middle of the 20th Century, and by the 1960s it was a cultural phenomenon. But Black people were often banned from the rinks. When they were allowed in, it was typically for Black-only “Rhythm Nights” or “Soul Nights.”
This racism forced them out of buildings and onto the streets, where they developed their own culture and styles of skating: “NY/NJ style” with its house music influences, intricate footwork and figure-eight formations; the smooth slides and transitions of “Detroit Style”; the swagger and bounce of “Atlanta Style”; the competitive rhythms of “Cleveland Freestyle” and “Jam Style,” and “JB style” out of Chicago.
“You can think about James Brown and how he moved, how he slided all over the floor, the jazz movements,” Watkins explained.
Roller-skating even played a part in the historic March on Washington in August 1963. A 27-year-old named Ledger Smith skated 700 miles from Chicago to the nation's capital wearing a sash that read: “Freedom.” A contingent with the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People drove behind him with spare skates, protecting him through the 10-day journey.
Watkins wanted to continue this legacy, so she became the Black instructor she couldn’t find. She started Black Skate San Diego in 2021 with just three skaters in Southeastern San Diego's Lomita Park.
She said they have faced pushback, especially to the name. One Facebook commenter asked: “Why isn’t there a White Skate San Diego?” Another person warned her if she kept the name, nobody would support her.
“Black Skate San Diego can kind of offend a lot of people, because when you hear the word ‘Black,’ you think, ‘Oh, OK. Like, we're not invited. We can't come,’” she said.
Though Black skate culture was birthed from rejection from white spaces, this group isn’t returning that discrimination. At Black Skate San Diego, the circling mass of skaters is a kaleidoscope of skin colors, ages and abilities.
Access is part of their mission. They teach for free, and have spare gear on hand for anyone who can’t afford it.
The group flourished — the three skaters grew to about 50. They formed an LLC in 2025.
Watkins’ next goal is to invest in flooring for a pop-up skating rink.
"So we can pull up in, you know, the inner city of Black people to pull up wherever we want to and just show people those moves, show people our culture,” she said.
Now, they typically gather Tuesdays at Liberty Station and Sundays at Sunset View Park.
She encourages everyone to pull up.
