Citibike, the bike-sharing program in New York (my hometown), began nearly fifteen months ago.
During the first days of the program, leaders of the Hasidic Jewish community in South Williamsburg, Brooklyn, petitioned against it. They weren't against bikes, they said; they just didn't like the idea of "scantily clad" cyclists rolling through their neighborhood.
A couple of years ago, Hasidic leaders in Borough Park, another Brooklyn enclave, protested the construction of bike lanes on exactly the same grounds.
I haven't heard about the Borough Park rebbes lately. I've ridden through the neighborhood a few times and found no Citibike ports. For that matter, I didn't see very many adult cyclists.
On the other hand, a few days after the South Williamsburg leaders made their complaint, Hasidim for Bikes clamored for the blue bikes. Not surprisingly, Williamsburg--sometimes called "Brooklyn's Portland" or "Hipsterville"--was one of the first Brooklyn neighborhoods to get Citibikes.
Not long afterward, I started to see bearded, black-clad men in top hats pedaling up and down Kent Avenue, Berry Street, Havemeyer Street and other neighborhood throughfares--even on the worst days of a record-breaking heat wave we endured last summer.
Note that I mentioned the men. I hadn't seen Hasidic women pedaling or coasting on the blue bikes--until today.
It wasn't exceptionally hot, but it was warm and humid enough for me, in my shorts and tank top, to break a bit of a sweat when I sprinted, however briefly, because, well, I could. I tried to imagine how it must have felt for those women, clad in long sleeves and skirts, sweaters and thick opaque hosiery of the kind I might wear with boots in the winter.
I didn't take any pictures--Years ago, I discovered that Hasidim really don't like to be photographed, especially by outsiders--so I've included this image because it probably comes closest to showing what it must have been like for the women I saw today:
During the first days of the program, leaders of the Hasidic Jewish community in South Williamsburg, Brooklyn, petitioned against it. They weren't against bikes, they said; they just didn't like the idea of "scantily clad" cyclists rolling through their neighborhood.
A couple of years ago, Hasidic leaders in Borough Park, another Brooklyn enclave, protested the construction of bike lanes on exactly the same grounds.
I haven't heard about the Borough Park rebbes lately. I've ridden through the neighborhood a few times and found no Citibike ports. For that matter, I didn't see very many adult cyclists.
On the other hand, a few days after the South Williamsburg leaders made their complaint, Hasidim for Bikes clamored for the blue bikes. Not surprisingly, Williamsburg--sometimes called "Brooklyn's Portland" or "Hipsterville"--was one of the first Brooklyn neighborhoods to get Citibikes.
Not long afterward, I started to see bearded, black-clad men in top hats pedaling up and down Kent Avenue, Berry Street, Havemeyer Street and other neighborhood throughfares--even on the worst days of a record-breaking heat wave we endured last summer.
Note that I mentioned the men. I hadn't seen Hasidic women pedaling or coasting on the blue bikes--until today.
It wasn't exceptionally hot, but it was warm and humid enough for me, in my shorts and tank top, to break a bit of a sweat when I sprinted, however briefly, because, well, I could. I tried to imagine how it must have felt for those women, clad in long sleeves and skirts, sweaters and thick opaque hosiery of the kind I might wear with boots in the winter.
I didn't take any pictures--Years ago, I discovered that Hasidim really don't like to be photographed, especially by outsiders--so I've included this image because it probably comes closest to showing what it must have been like for the women I saw today:
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