How boxer Claressa Shields emerged as the headline attraction

“IT’S A BIT MUCH,” Claressa Shields remarks to me on a chilly January afternoon. The undefeated and undisputed heavyweight champion of the world discusses the cameras, microphones, and attention that will greet her at Madison Square Garden. She is set to make a ringside appearance in a few hours at the Shakur Stevenson-Teofimo Lopez fight alongside her boyfriend Papoose. To prepare, she has converted a room in his New Jersey apartment into her personal salon, with bottles, jars, and powders spread across a table in front of her.

“So, I know that whatever pictures or videos are taken of me today will be all over the internet for the next few days,” she states.

“Probably a week,” she adds after a brief pause.

A sly smile appears on her face. She is aware of the routine.

“My content stays viral for days and days and days. I just think, ‘Yo, are you guys not finished yet?’ Oh my god,” she says, dramatically rolling her eyes.

“Why is that?” I inquire.

“People either like me or dislike me; I don’t know, but they are fascinated by my lifestyle,” she explains. “Me and Pap together — I am a professional world champion; he’s one of the top rappers — it’s intriguing to them, and even the smallest details go viral.”

Shields scrolls through her phone, directing Andi, her makeup artist, on her desired look for the evening. Some shimmer for her eyelids. “Probably add some pink blush, too,” Shields suggests, pulling the hood of her bright pink Versace sweatshirt from her neck. After shadowboxing at a nearby gym, she has rinsed her face and eaten a meal of fish, rice, and spinach. She is contemplating wearing a vibrant red dress hanging in Papoose’s apartment upstairs.

For over a decade, Claressa Shields, arguably the greatest female boxer in history, toiled in relative obscurity. She secured an Olympic gold medal in 2012, followed by another in 2016, becoming the first American boxer to achieve back-to-back golds. Many Olympic champions become American icons, but not Shields.

Until now. Last February, during one of her fights, she publicly launched her relationship with Papoose, who was in the process of divorcing rapper Remy Ma. Since then, her profile has skyrocketed into superstardom.

Not only does it seem everyone has an opinion about her, but they are eager to express it. Shields is active on social media, and responses come from fans, celebrities, adversaries, and bots alike — from Joe Schmo to Jake Paul. Most responses lack a heart emoji. It is not in Shields’ nature to retreat. She responds with a witty remark, a video, a like, and provides the masses with something new to react to. A fresh wave of virality ensues. During the five hours I spend with her, Shields confronts Instagram trolls, online “liars,” and faceless detractors. For Shields, the battle — both inside and outside the ring — is relentless. Her legacy is on the line.

On Feb. 22, 18,000 fans are anticipated to fill Detroit’s Little Caesars Arena to witness Shields face her archrival Franchón Crews-Dezurn in the main event. Some will cheer for Shields the fighter, while others will deride Shields the antagonist. Fourteen years after claiming her first Olympic gold medal and nine years after competing against Crews-Dezurn in her professional debut on an undercard in Las Vegas, Shields is finally receiving what she has always desired: immense fame. But at what cost?

Shields closes her eyes as Andi applies a cream-colored eyeshadow and blends it in. Then she gently dabs a shimmery gold over Shields’ eyelids. Her eyes stand out, and the bags beneath them diminish.

With her eyes still closed, Shields instructs Andi to do something she has never attempted before. With so much attention on her tonight, she wants to seize the moment.

She wishes to wear red lipstick.

WITH THE PRECISION of a surgeon, Andi holds the end of a fake eyelash with tweezers. She transfers it to her fingers, pinching the sides as she carefully attaches it over Shields’ left eyelid. It doesn’t work. She removes it and adjusts it. Then she turns to the other eye. The transformation is immediate and striking. Shields’ eyes appear larger and more almond-shaped. The eyelashes create a winged effect toward the outer corners of her eyes.

Eyes still closed, Shields recounts her experience at the 2012 London Olympics.

At 14 years old, she learned that women could box in the Olympics in 2012. From that moment, it consumed her thoughts. She had to run 4 miles from her home in Flint, Michigan, to the gym just to train. Sometimes the shoelaces on her worn shoes would come undone and flap as she ran. She envisioned herself holding the Olympic gold medal.

She spent countless hours at the gym sparring with boys, imagining wrapping the American flag around her shoulders after winning the gold medal match.

Her first sparring partner, Darrion Lawson, recalls girls refusing to fight her in Michigan because “they were so scared of getting beaten.” Thus, Shields traveled out of state to find women to compete against. By the time 2012 arrived, even before boarding the plane to London, she was confident that no woman in the world could defeat her. She won her first Olympic gold medal at the age of 17.

“And then my dream paused,” Shields reflects.

Andi draws a thick black line on Shields’ eyelid with eyeliner, extending the line from her top lashes to the edge of her eye and beyond. The eyeliner conceals the glue line created by the fake lashes.

Shields speaks rapidly, her words flowing.

“I didn’t receive any endorsements or sponsorships, and I had a gold medal,” Shields states. “So for about a year, I felt stuck, unsure of what I was supposed to do with my life at that point.”

Andi proceeds to fill in her eyebrows, prompting Shields to open her eyes, squint, and gaze at me.

“I see all these other girls getting magazine covers and deals with Nike, Adidas, and Under Armour. And I was like, where’s mine? I saw girls without medals getting endorsements, so I was like, what the heck?”

Shields received a $25,000 bonus from the United States Olympic Committee for winning gold. She used it to rent a house and purchase a car. She heard rumors that she wasn’t receiving endorsements because she had been fortunate with her Olympic gold medal. She resolved to make those people eat their words. She decided that the brands that overlooked her would have to work extra hard to sign her later. She relocated to Florida to train for the Rio Olympics.

When the judges’ decision was revealed after her gold medal match against the Netherlands’ Nouchka Fontijn at the 2016 Rio Olympics, Shields laughed and performed a cartwheel in the ring before running around with the American flag.

Just as she anticipated, brands began to reach out. She remembers them all: Powerade, Dick’s Sporting Goods, Under Armour.

After filming a few commercials, she returned to a life of relative normalcy. Fame, it turned out, was transient.

She set a new objective: to become the first female boxer to earn a million dollars. In November 2016, she turned professional.

In the subsequent years, she fought in various weight classes — from super welterweight (154 pounds) to heavyweight (over 175 pounds) — maintaining an undefeated record throughout her professional career. However, the most significant fight cards often went to her contemporaries. Weeks before Netflix announced the highly anticipated November 2024 fight between Katie Taylor and Amanda Serrano at AT&T Stadium in Arlington, Texas, Shields reached out to former boxer, mentor, and Flint native, Andre Dirrell. That day, she struggled to summon her usual energy. She felt disheartened.

“How long before I get the chance to fight in front of millions of people?” she asked him.

Dirrell, who always knew the right words to say, quoted a passage from a book titled “Man’s Search for Meaning,” which he had memorized and paraphrased for Shields.

“When a man realizes that it is his destiny to suffer, he must accept his suffering as his task. He must acknowledge that even in suffering, he is unique and alone in the universe,” he told her.

“Ress,” he called her by her nickname reserved for those close to her. “Your time will come.”

Shields purses her lips, her expression distant, as if she is reconnecting with the emotions from the early years of her career.

Blowing on the brush to remove excess makeup, Andi blends the shimmery eyeshadow in the center of Shields’ eyelids with a dark brown shade that she applies to the edges of Shields’ eyebrows. Satisfied with the shimmering effect, Andi moves on to the next significant step: contouring.

ANDI PICKS A BROWN shade that is a couple of tones darker than Shields’ skin. Using a brush, she draws a line beneath Shields’ right cheekbone extending to the edge of her lips. She repeats the process on the left side. Then, she carefully draws two parallel lines from the tips of Shields’ eyebrows to the tip of her nose. Gradually, she blends the contour lines seamlessly into the foundation.

Shields’ nose appears longer and more defined.

Papoose enters the room. “Hey baby,” she greets him.

Papoose had mentioned to me a few days earlier that Shields entered his life when he believed his “life was over.” She was “full of life” and reminded him of the significance of new beginnings, even after painful endings. He committed to being a supportive and devoted partner. “If I have to give her water, hold her bag, hold her mitts for her, or wipe the sweat from her forehead — whatever she needs, I want to do it all.”

Now, Papoose, whose real name is Shamele Mackie, sits in the corner and listens to her speak.

Shields is recounting her last fight. Papoose smiles, as if he has heard the story before, but he is still captivated.

July 26, 2025, at the Little Caesars Arena in Detroit. It was five months into their official relationship (she had even gotten a tattoo of his name on the side of her right breast). Approximately 15,000 people attended that fight, she shares. Ticket sales alone generated nearly $1.5 million. She won — convincingly. But that is not what lingers in her mind.

“When I finished fighting, people were crying and screaming and wanting to take pictures,” she recalls.

Shields became a free agent after that fight. Papoose, who is an executive at Wynn Records, facilitated a new deal for her in collaboration with her current promoter, Dmitriy Salita.

The outcome: a guaranteed $8 million multi-fight contract with a $3 million signing bonus — the largest contract in women’s boxing history. At the press conference, Shields acknowledged Papoose, stating it couldn’t have happened without him. She also announced a new goal: a $50 million payday for a single fight, akin to Floyd Mayweather.

Amid Andi’s brush strokes, Shields scrolls through her Instagram. She lists her follower counts on each platform: 1.6 million on Instagram, 800,000 across three Facebook pages — one verified, one personal, and one fan page. She has 208,000 subscribers on YouTube. Across all platforms, she has accumulated over 3 million followers. She remembers these figures because she is constantly striving to increase them.

She gestures for me to come closer. She opens her post from her press conference in Detroit four days earlier. In it, she is wearing a bright red jumpsuit, with Papoose standing behind her, his hands wrapped around her waist. They are both smiling. She scrolls through the comments section. She has restricted comments on the post, so only positive ones are visible to her (and everyone else). “idc what nobody thinks & I’m happy she doesn’t either!” one comment reads. Shields pins the comment to the top of the section. “Say wtf yaw want that man is in love,” she reads aloud. “Yes he is,” she exclaims enthusiastically, as if engaging in a conversation with her fan.

Andi completes blending the contour across Shields’ face. She steps back to assess her work. The winter sunlight is too bright, so she lowers the shade. Shields’ face appears sharper and more angular. Next, Andi applies a layer of pink lipstick. She asks Shields to look at herself on the camera. Shields opens Snapchat and, unbeknownst to me, begins recording our conversation as she poses and showcases her makeup. She mentions her goal of posting 100 snaps a day.

Fourteen years after winning her first Olympic gold medal, she is more famous than ever. According to Google Trends, U.S. search interest in Shields significantly increased in December 2024 when her relationship with Papoose began to gain attention. U.S. search interest in Shields reached an all-time high in July 2025, surging nearly 300% compared to prior to her connection with Papoose. I ask her why, after all this time, everyone is so invested in her life.

Shields, now 30, references some of the greatest athletes of all time, those who have transcended their sports to become almost legendary.

“Listen,” she says, pausing. “I saw it happen to Jordan, LeBron, Kobe.”

“They keep winning, and eventually, when you see these individuals succeed repeatedly, you start to wonder, ‘Where’s the excitement?’ Suddenly, you want to see them lose. You begin to nitpick at minor details.

“‘We’ve seen her win 19 world championships.’ Now people want to see me struggle; they want to see me lose,” she explains.

She becomes animated. Using expressive hand gestures, she reflects on how she observed what Serena Williams experienced as an impressionable young woman. Comparing herself to Williams, she notes that she is facing similar scrutiny.

“Serena Williams dominated tournaments, and people focused on her physique, her strength, her features — they called her a monkey,” she states. “I experience the same treatment — monkey, ugly, built like a man, your butt’s too big, your back’s too big.”

She glances at Papoose and smiles at him. He gazes at her with admiration.

“And that’s without considering the relationship aspect,” she adds.

“I have 19 world championships, two Olympic gold medals, a great personality, a great physique, a strong social media presence, and a great man,” she emphasizes.

“My confidence is unshakeable. Sometimes that can intimidate people.”

Shields examines the Snaps she just posted of her makeup. She is dissatisfied with her pink lips. She reminds Andi that she requested red. Andi wipes her lips clean and starts anew.

What is the purpose of all this — the makeup, the barrage of social media posts, the trolls — what is the point? I repeatedly ask her variations of this question. She closes her mouth at Andi’s request. She cannot have bright red lip color smeared on her teeth. “That would show up in all the pictures, good god.” Then she touches Andi’s hand. Andi pauses. A serious expression crosses Shields’ face.

“I am the content,” she asserts.

HUGGING HER BLACK fur coat around her body, Shields steps out onto the front porch of the apartment complex, her long black braids cascading down her back. She made a last-minute decision regarding her dress. The red one was too formal, so she opted for a pink sleeveless outfit. She is still wearing her Ugg boots. Papoose, dressed in a brown jacket, walks beside her. Their driver, Alvin, arrives in a black Mercedes-Benz Sprinter. He holds Shields’ hand as she ascends the stairs. I head to the back of the van, but Papoose offers me his seat next to her. “I don’t mind,” he says, taking a seat in the back row.

The interior of the Sprinter is dim, illuminated only by the purple star lights on the ceiling. They reflect off Shields’ face, enhancing her cheeks’ pink hue and her lips’ red color.

We discuss fame. She recounts the initial weeks of being bombarded with comments on social media. A year ago, she made her relationship with Papoose public. They had been dating for a few months, and it felt like the natural next step. The first video to go viral featured Papoose serenading her with his famous Busta Rhymes 2006 remix “Touch It” as she walked into the ring in her sequined black and gold outfit before her fight against Danielle Perkins. A beaming Shields danced to the rap, mouthing the lyrics as she absorbed the energy of the nearly 6,000-strong crowd in Flint.

For years, Shields had awaited her recognition. Now, suddenly, the world was paying attention and showering her with the riches she had longed for. However, with the wealth came relentless and draining negativity. Overnight, her relationship became a subject of public scrutiny. She was unprepared for the animosity.

“You enter a relationship, and everyone wants to be in your business,” Shields states. “I’ve never encountered that because I’ve never dated celebrities — so being with him, it was like…” She makes a whooshing sound, sweeping her arm over her head to illustrate how chaotic her life suddenly became.

Shields narrows her eyebrows, visibly irritated. All she sees are lies, lies, lies when she browses the internet, she claims. Strangers fabricating a narrative about their relationship.

“Only he and I knew the timeline,” she asserts, her voice rising.

In rapid succession, she recounts the details of her romance, as if trying to convince me. Or perhaps she is attempting to persuade the social media trolls through me. Or maybe