Next to the superstar athletes China sent to Paris — names like ping-pong ace Ma Long, weightlifter Li Wenwen, and swimmer Pan Zhanle, just to name a few — Cui Chenxi cuts an unassuming figure. But for a brief moment early in this year’s Olympics, the 14-year-old street skateboarder’s underdog quest for a medal captured the attention of sports fans nationwide.

Cui eventually finished just off the podium, but her star turn, combined with the excitement around the unexpected qualification of 11-year-old Zheng Haohao, heralded a shift in Chinese attitudes toward this once-maligned pastime.

Indeed, for as young as Cui and Zheng are, acceptance of skateboarding as a mainstream sport in China is even younger. Globally, skateboarding has always been in tension with “mainstream” culture. In the United States, it emerged as a countercultural movement, a kind of anti-establishment expression that became an alternative lifestyle. Another hotbed, Japan, also has a complex relationship with skateboarding. Despite producing world-class athletes like Yuto Horigome, who won the first Olympic gold in skateboarding, Japanese still widely consider skateboarding to be a public nuisance. The sport’s paradoxical status within Japanese society — celebrated in controlled settings yet unwelcome in public spaces — found full expression at the Tokyo Olympics, where “Skating Banned” signs could be found just outside the venue where Yuto won his medal.

China is hardly immune from this tension. In a generation’s time, public perceptions of the sport have undergone a remarkable transformation from a way for rebellious young people to act out to mainstream sport.

It’s a far cry from the early 1990s, when the 1989 American thriller “Gleaming the Cube” hit the nation’s theaters. Although fictional, the film showcased the sport’s appeal with scenes featuring legends like Tony Hawk and Rodney Mullen, as well as contributions from famed skate video director Stacy Peralta. The aesthetics, from the street cruising to the outrageous outfits and board graphics resonated with the era’s rebellious youth. Quickly, skaters were labeled as “bad boys” who sought to deviate from the norms of China’s highly regimented education system.

As elsewhere, early Chinese skaters were predominantly male and concentrated in wealthy megacities like Beijing, Shanghai, Shenzhen, and Guangzhou. (Qinhuangdao, a beach town outside Beijing, was the notable exception, largely due to the presence of American skateboard brand Powell’s Chinese distributor.)

But unlike in Western countries, where skateboarding was often treated as a threat to public order, in China the early scene was treated as little more than a curiosity. Skateboarders generally faced little resistance from chengguan, or “urban management officials”; instead their presence drew crowds of curious onlookers.

The already somewhat superficial countercultural connotations of skateboarding in China began to fade as early as the 2000s, as China’s economy boomed and international sports brands saw an opportunity for rapid growth. Brands such as Nike, Adidas, and Vans began investing heavily in marketing and sponsorships, transforming skateboarding’s image from that of a niche subculture to a trendy alternative lifestyle choice. This push picked up steam in the 2010s, as companies like Vans hosted events that merged skateboarding with art, photography, screen printing, and music as a way to appeal to China’s burgeoning “creative class.”

However, it wasn’t until the 2022 Hangzhou Asian Games that skateboarding truly burst into the Chinese mainstream consciousness. The stellar performances of two young athletes — 15-year-old Chen Ye and the above-mentioned Cui — not only produced two gold medals but also made the pair the youngest-ever Asian Games gold medalists.

For their part, Chinese skaters had mixed feelings about the sportification of their hobby. As the sport gained traction and commercial interest grew, top-tier brands began offering substantial sponsorship deals to talented skaters. Based on my fieldwork, sponsored riders for leading brands could earn monthly salaries ranging from 5,000 to 15,000 yuan ($700 to $2,100) in the late 2000s and early 2010s, a relatively high figure for the time. These payments provided skaters with a degree of financial stability that was rare among their peers, especially for a pursuit that had been considered subcultural just a few years earlier.

This financial incentive both validated skateboarding as a legitimate career path and helped to draw in new participants. Perhaps that’s why, when skateboarding was first announced as an Olympic sport in 2016, a chorus of dissent echoed through China’s core skateboarding community. These “core skaters,” who had been on the scene for years, didn’t just fear that Olympic recognition would strip the sport of its countercultural essence and dilute its youth appeal, but also that they would be replaced by “skateboarding athletes” brought up through the country’s state-run sport system.

However, as the years have passed, these voices of opposition have gradually faded into the background. The expanded ecosystem brought about by Olympic recognition has created myriad opportunities within the industry. Many former “core skaters” have transitioned into professional roles across the field — from creative positions like photographers and videographers to technical roles such as skatepark designers. A few have even taken up managerial or educational positions, managing and judging the new events that have sprung up nationwide.

Indeed, contrary to early fears, skateboarding activities and competitions have proliferated across China. Commercial projects including shopping malls and real estate developments are increasingly incorporating skateparks and hosting events, integrating the sport into mainstream urban landscapes. While specific numbers on new skateparks aren’t available, news reports suggest a significant growth in infrastructure and cultural acceptance driven by both grassroots enthusiasm and post-Olympic support.

Meanwhile, a 2024 report from e-commerce giant JD.com found a tenfold increase in skateboarding-related shoe and apparel sales in the first half of the year, with members of the post-’90s and post-’00s generations accounting for over 60% of purchases. Major brands like Nike, Adidas, and domestic brands such as Xtep, Li Ning, and ANTA have invested heavily in skateboarding products and sponsorships.

All of these changes have resulted in a complex balancing act in which skateboarding in China straddles the lines between subculture and mainstream acceptance, unconventional self-expression and institutionalized sport. Despite the concessions made to mainstream norms in recent years, China’s skaters should not be seen as passive actors. If anything, skate culture is also reshaping China’s mainstream sports and youth cultures. Traditional notions of athletic development, often characterized by early specialization and rigid training regimens, are being challenged by skateboarding’s more fluid, creativity-driven approach. Some schools (particularly in urban areas) have even started incorporating skateboarding into physical education curricula, recognizing its potential for fostering balance, coordination, risk assessment skills, and perhaps most importantly — cultivating an enthusiasm for sports.

Editor: Cai Yineng; portrait artist: Zhou Zhen.

(Header image: Cui Chenxi of Team China practices Skateboarding Street ahead of the Paris Olympic Games, France, July 23, 2024. Lars Baron/Getty Images via VCG)