Steph Sarah recalls a time in Venice Beach's legendary skate history, long before the sandy expanse of Ocean Front Walk became the world-famous skate park, a concrete playground where professional skaters are born.
“They were all kids,” says Sarah, a 36-year-old Venice Beach native who learned to skate at age 12. “If you found another girl skating, it was your competition, because there wasn't even enough room for one girl to skate, let alone several.”
The group welcomes all levels and jokes that they are “the best skaters in the world.” (Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)
On this Thursday night, that is distant history. As fog covers the Venice pier, Sarah skates alongside dozens of women on the coastal path. They sing the lyrics to “Hey Jude” while singer Chloe Kat serenades them with a guitar in her hand. Curious fishermen watch them, their fishing lines thrown into the black ocean. But they don't pay attention to it. Whirling in the moonlight, the women look like a coven of witches: their spells are good vibes, California weather, and the boards under their feet.
Since its inception in 2018, grlwhirlpool has been a leading force in creating a more inclusive skate culture in Venice Beach and around the world. The Venice Beach-based organization fosters community among female skaters. Twice a month, the group hosts evening “group skates” for women and community members. The event has exploded social networkswhich usually attracts more than 100 participants on warm summer nights.
“You get to witness what it's like for people to break all the rules and be their full selves,” Lucy Osinski, one of GrlSwirl's co-founders, says of the skate group. “The weirder, the sillier, the more authentic, the better.”
Participants dodge a parking barrier during a nighttime group skate.
(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)
Growing up in the world of professional ballet with its restrictive body standards and intense discipline, Osinski found a new freedom in skateboarding. “I went from feeling so fragile and weak to feeling so powerful,” she says. “It made me feel part and liberated in a way I had never experienced before.”
But when she moved to Venice Beach in 2017, skateboarding as a woman attracted hostile attention. “Every time I skated, people would boo us or yell at us to do a kickflip,” he says. (“Doing a kickflip” is considered a skateboarding mockery.) “I started chasing any girl I saw on a skateboard. I made a text chain. I called her GrlSwirl.”
Osinski began posting about group skates on Instagram, where GrlSwirl gained traction. “The next week, 20 girls showed up just by word of mouth, and then the next week 40, and then the next 60, and then we had over 100 girls.” Soon, the group's reputation attracted brand sponsorships and inquiries about starting chapters in new cities.
Today, the organization also operates as a non-profit that teaches skating to disadvantaged communities around the world, including surf-skate retreats that empower women and girls. Osinski explains that GrlSwirl has hosted skate clinics from refugee camps in Tijuana to the first women's skate event on the Navajo Nation. GrlSwirl has an international following with chapters in more than seven cities and an online community spanning 80 countries.
Lindsey Klucik, left, dances with friends to Christmas songs on the Venice Pier during a GrlSwirl skate.
(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)
Lucy Osinski arrives with a skateboard move.
(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)
“Everything we've done since day 1 is create spaces and find ways to build community through skateboarding,” Osinski says. “People want to be in a village, but they don't know how to be villagers. GrlSwirl is the village.”
The popularity of the bimonthly group skates has even attracted out-of-towners who are curious about the event. Osinski says the event has attracted tourists from Japan, Russia and more. Traveling from Salzburg, Austria, Karoline Bauer joined skateboarding with her partner while on vacation after following them on Instagram. “We were just looking for a community. We don't have it at home,” Bauer says.
The skating group welcomes skaters of all levels. As a motto, the group jokes that they are “the best skaters in the world.” “We're not looking for people who slide like crazy,” says Naomi Fulta, a rider on the GrlSwirl team. “We have people who come here who have literally never been on a skateboard, or people who have skated their entire lives.”
Yuka Okamura has been attending the GrlSwirl skating group with her 10-year-old daughter for over five years. To his surprise, Okamura began learning to skateboard when his daughter started taking lessons. “I had no idea I would start something new after having a child. It's amazing to share the joy and experience with her,” he explains.
Yaya Ogun, a cyclist for the GrlSwirl team, poses with the group.
(Gabriella Angotti-Jones / For The Times)
For Yaya Ogun, one of the team's riders, group skates are an opportunity to build a community and make friends. Skateboarding lends itself naturally to community, he explains. Ogun attended her first GrlSwirl event alone and is now participating as a sponsored skater. “You have to go somewhere physical, you'll meet people, you'll make friends,” he says.
Ogun is a self-proclaimed pandemic skater. “There is a huge wave of us starting during or after the pandemic,” he says. “I grew up wanting to skate, but I never had the time. And suddenly, I had a lot of time,” he says, laughing.
As a Texas transplant, Ogun was drawn to GrlSwirl because the organization is rooted in the local community, which has experienced rent increases and the closure of local institutions in recent years. “This is a special place and it is changing a lot,” Ogun laments. “We want to respect it and elevate it and not change anything.”
Osinski attributes GrlSwirl's success to its birthplace, Venice Beach, a place that celebrates uniqueness and community. Venice is the mecca of skateboarding, home of the Z-boys who revolutionized the sport in the 1970s and subject of the documentary “Dogtown and Z-Boys.”
GrlSwirl aims to inspire people to “come together by simply trying something new.”
(Gabriella Angotti-Jones/for The Times)
“Venice is a place of creation. You don't have to look like a Venice skater to be one. It's about growing and giving back,” says Osinski.
The girls skate late into the night, the setting sun casting an orange light on their smiling faces. Ogun declares her disdain for longboards, not to mention penny skateboards, which she claims are a death trap. In the distance, waves carry surfers to shore after the last surf of the day. As darkness falls on Venice Beach, the promise of something new increases.
