Transgender Day of Remembrance—Andrea Doria Dos Passos

 Today I am invoking my “Howard Cosell Rule” because it’s Transgender Day of Remembrance. 

On this date in 1998, Black transgender woman Rita Hester was murdered in the Boston suburb of Allston.  Her death received little attention at the time although—or because—it came just weeks after that of Matthew Shepard, a gay man attacked and left to die on a cold high desert night in Wyoming. 

A year after Ms. Hester’s death, the first Transgender Day of Remembrance was observed in Boston and San Francisco. Subsequent observances—in which I’ve participated—consist of participants reading the name of a transgender or gender-variant person who was murdered because of their gender identity or expression. 

Therefore, I will end today’s post with the name of one such victim: Andrea Doria Dos Passos. 

The 37-year-old transgender woman had been dealing, like too many of us, with housing insecurity for some time.  On the night of 23 April, she was experiencing homelessness and was sleeping near the entrance of Miami City Ballet when a man approached and violently beat her to death. 

The next morning, a Ballet employee came upon her body and called the police.  Because of security camera footage, the perpetrator was caught quickly: an unfortunately rare outcome in too many cases.

Mid-Day, Late Season

  Although this Fall has been warmer and drier than any other I can remember, my rides reveal sure signs that winter, whatever it might bring , isn’t far in the future.

Somehow the preternaturally clear sky and blue water at Fort Totten—where the (misnamed) East River meets the Long Island Sound, and the destination of my midday ride—only highlighted the imminent seasonal change.

Then again, some places and trees are holding onto what’s left of the season.

When It Was A Gravel Rider's Dream

Following the trail further, the hardy voyager wandered over 'hills and valleys, dales and fields' through a countryside where trout, mink, otter, and muskrat swam in the brooks and pools; brant, black duck, and yellow-leg splashed in the marshes and fox, rabbit, woodcock, and partridge found covert in the thicket.

The preceding passage isn't an account of my latest ride, though it could have described other rides I've taken.

I have, however, pedaled down the route followed by the author of that passage.  My latest trek along that thoroughfare--one of many--took me past stores, restaurants, condo and co-op buildings and offices.

Also, I rode in the opposite direction from that of the scribe who penned that passage.  Today, it's the only way one can travel for most of the roadway's length.

I am talking about one of the world's most famous urban byways:  Fifth Avenue in Manhattan.

The section Arthur Bartlett Maurice described ran from about 21st to 28th Streets:  about a mile and a half from the Avenue's southern terminus at Washington Square Park.  He was also narrating a northward ("uptown" in New York parlance) trek; since 1966, all of the Avenue, save for a few blocks at its northern end, has allowed only southbound ("downtown") traffic.

Can you believe this was once a sight along Fifth Avenue?

This month marks 200 years since the Avenue--which was mainly a dirt path--opened.  It had been planned thirteen years earlier; its opening ushered an unprecedented building boom that, decades later, would lead to the stretch abutting Central Park to become "Millionaire's Row" and, later, "Museum Mile."

Or this?

Mind you, I don't make a point of cycling Fifth Avenue.  But there are times when it's an efficient and, given that it doesn't have a protected bike lane, relatively safe way to go.   Because the stretch from 110th to 59th marks the Park boundary, most side-streets dead-end into it, so there are few intersections to navigate.  Also, I find that its traffic patterns and flows are fairly predictable, even along the Midtown sector.

Oh, and I always make sure I wave to Patience and Fortitude when I pass the main New Yave to ork Public Library building.  If they could talk.... 

(Thanks to Esther Crain, the author of one of my favorite blogs--Ephemeral New York--for the tribute to Fifth Avenue's bicentennial.)

Á Misanthrope? Maybe, Sort Of.

 I have had many labels attached to me.  Perhaps this is one:

After all, I have lived with more bikes than humans!

Could This Become The Father Of Better Bike Infrastructure?

 Here in New York City, it seems that every other non-cyclist hates the bike lanes. Drivers complain that “their” lanes and parking spaces are being taken from them. 

To be fair, many city streets—even some major ones—are narrow and were crowded even before the bike lanes came in. But, as I’ve mentioned in other posts, studies have found a “build it and they will come” phenomenon in road and other auto-related infrastructure: Creating more space for motorized traffic leads to more motorized traffic. In other words, car-clogged streets that have bike lanes would continue to experience traffic jams even if the bike lanes were given over to cars, trucks, buses and anything else that isn’t human-powered.

Apparently, some folks on Padre Island, off the Texas coast, have heard that message. If they haven’t, perhaps their latest plea to the Island’s Strategic Action Committee (which advises the Corpus Christi City Council) is motivated by two crashes involving cyclists and motorists within a month.

Those good folks (OK, I’m editorializing) are telling the Committee to build safe bicycle lanes and sidewalks. To me, it’s interesting that they’re asking to build something that many New Yorkers want to get rid of. More important, it’s heartening to know that if those lanes and sidewalks are built, they would be part of a larger mobility plan for the island, connecting different communities with buses, golf carts and other non-automotive transportation in addition to bike lanes and sidewalks. If nothing else, I hope that it prevents or defuses at least some of the animosity some drivers direct at cyclists. Oh, I also hope that such a plan might prevent some bad bike lanes—like a few I’ve ridden here in New York—from being built.

Take Your Pick

 Non-bike-related question of the day:

Which is scarier:  Matt Gaetz as Attorney General or Robert F. Kennedy in charge of the Department of Health and Human Services?

50 Kilometers--For Dumplings?

Bagel runs.  Pizza runs.  Taco runs.  Crepe runs.  Beer runs. 

I have made all of those "errands"--usually, at night--on my bicycle.  Some of those trips spanned only a few blocks; others were considerably longer, like the rides I took from Rutgers in New Brunswick, New Jersey to Brooklyn for bagels.  It's not that decent bagels couldn't be had in NB or, more precisely, neighboring Highland Park.  I simply believed that the bagels in Brooklyn--at one place in particular--were the best.

And, of course, those 50 or so kilometers (depending on which route I took) left a bagel (or two) sized hole in my stomach.  

I've probably taken rides of similar length within the bounds of New York City to taste a food that, while available in whichever neighborhood I resided, was better in some ethnic enclave or another:  knishes from Mrs. Stahl's in Brighton Beach, dim sum in Flushing, jerk chicken in Flatbush and, of course, soul food in pre-gentrified Harlem.  Oh, and few things can cap off a winter trek like pho in Sunset Park.

So I fully empathize with four students who made a 50 kilometer late-night run from Zhengzhou to Kaifeng--for soup dumplings. Of course, those young people claimed that they weren't riding only for a midnight snack:  They say they also took in some cultural attractions in Kaifeng, a city that has served as China's capital eight times during a history that stretches as far back as the Athenian Empire.  I believe them simply because I would do the same--while sampling the local cuisine, of course!

That all would have been fine with the local authorities if the ride was limited to those four students, maybe a few more.  But news of the trip went viral on social media. As a result, the quartet would be joined by 100,000 other cyclists, mostly young.

To put that into perspective, the Five Boro Bike Tour, one of the world's largest organized rides, attracted 32,000 riders this year.  Some people complain because they lose "their" lanes and parking spaces when streets are blocked off, but otherwise there is little public or private criticism because the ride is planned well in advance.  Thus, people are prepared for the street closures and police have an easy time patrolling and protecting. (Plus, one assumes, they don't mind the overtime pay.) 

The Dumpling Run, on the other hand, was a spontaneous event. Thus, no one else was prepared for the ensuing traffic jams and other interruptions it caused and local officials were, needless to say, not happy. Nor were bike share administrators:  They had to shut down their networks because most of the riders used share bikes and the networks simply couldn't keep up with the demand.  Also, the ride led to a glut of share bikes in Kaifeng and not enough in Zhengzhou.

Then again, some local papers, like People's Daily, have praised the event.  They cite the "energy" and "spirit" of the ride, not to mention the boost to restaurants and other hospitality businesses.  I can understand:  I've pedaled 50 kilometers, and more, for art, history, culture--and food!

Through Her Eyes

 Could it be that even Marlee couldn't believe what she was seeing last Tuesday night?

The War To End All Wars

 Today is Veterans’ Day here in the US.

I can remember when it was called Armistice Day, after the treaty that ended World War I, a.k.a. “The War to End All Wars.”

I wonder how many soldiers, sailors, marines, airmen/women and other military personnel go into battle hoping that their battle, their war will be the last.  I think that’s what I would hope.  “Hey, let’s not do this shit again, OK?”

And then swords would be beaten into ploughshares—and mortar into bicycle parts.

Ya Gotta Start Somewhere

How was your first ride?

A Ride The Day After The Day After

 The other morning I took a ride to Fort Totten before work. Those 45 miles (72.5 kilometers) of pedaling—into the wind for most of the way out—were just what I needed to help me with my post-election trauma. It might be a reason why the class I taught was easier than the two I taught the day before, the day after the election.

I am happy to report that some things haven’t changed

yet.  I hope that someone doesn’t discover petrol under Long Island Sound or anywhere in this area.  I don’t want to see El Cheeto Grande’s campaign donors “drill, baby, drill.”

The Aftermath , So Far

 Orange Crush (i.e., the election) left me crushed. People who know me could see it; some of them, I am sure, felt the same way.  One of our building’s managers, however, said, “It’s gonna be OK.” I wonder whether he believes it.

Since Tuesday night’s testament to treachery, I have taught three classes: one last night and two on Wednesday.  I barely heard a peep from the first group. Were they merely stunned, or did they feel resigned. Since most of them are of traditional college age (18-19 years old), I hope it’s not the latter.

The second class is smaller: 7 students. As you can imagine, it’s easier to get everyone to participate. At least, on a normal day it is. But the other day, they seemed as stunned or mentally weary as my first class, save for one student. He, who emigrated as a teenager with his family, became a citizen through US Military service. Interestingly, when we discussed The Trial and Death of Socrates, he was as zealous as anyone I’ve met in his defense, if you will, of the peripatetic philosopher: “He thought for himself. He questioned authority. That’s what we must do.” Thus, I am not surprised that he lambasted Trump as he did; what surprises me is that anyone who wears, or has worn, the uniform could support a career criminal who called the permanent residents of the Aisne-Marne American Cemetery “losers” and “suckers” after skipping out on a D-Day commemoration .

Last night class, on the other hand, was lively, even feisty. Most of those students come in to class from work, and all of them were upset that Trump won the election. One student mentioned Project 2025 which calls for, among other things, dismantling the Department of Education. Others mentioned their fears about health care, immigration and women’s and LGBT rights. Most interesting or all though, was the participation of one student whom I hadn’t heard before. “This whole country will be like Texas!” she lamented.

That wasn’t an idle statement: She was born and raised in the Lone Star State, “near Dallas.” She has spent time in other parts of the state: Houston, El Paso, Lubbock, San Antonio. The latter is home to The Alamo. “It’s all they talk about,” she said, “as if there’s no other history.”

I interjected that I was taught it was a “battle for freedom:” Texans wanted to liberate themselves from the yoke of Mexican oppression and become part of the Land of Liberty. “That’s what we were taught”—about half a century after I was so indoctrinated—“but we were also taught that it was part of Manifest Destiny, which was part of God’s plan.”

“They actually told you that God wanted the US to take Texas?” She nodded. Never was it mentioned, she explained, that Texans were fighting to keep slavery, which Mexico abolished four decades before the United States.

“We have to do away with American exceptionalism,” she intoned.”

People like her are the reasons for whatever hope we may have. She has obviously taken the time to learn what she wasn’t taught and questions authority and received wisdom. I can only hope that people like her aren’t brought before kangaroo courts on trumped-up (no pun intended) charges and don’t have to suffer his fate.

About Last Night

Today I will once again invoke my "Howard Cosell rule." That means today's post won't involve bicycles or bicycling.

By now, you know what happened last night.  During the previous two Presidential elections, I admonished friends, co-workers and other people I knew not to be so confident that Donald Trump "didn't have a chance" to win.  Ironically enough, I was, in my own way, pointing out  exactly what the right-wing pundits and media accuse them of:  not seeing anything outside of their liberal/New York/academic "bubble."

The first time, in 2016, I was accused of being "alarmist," "too sensitive" or even "paranoid" for expressing my fear of a Trump victory.  Even in the 2020 contest, held during the worst of the COVID pandemic, I didn't think another Trump victory was beyond possibility:  It seemed that his mistakes emboldened him, and his supporters, precisely because he seemed not to learn from them. Those same supporters believed Trump had a second term "stolen" from him and the Capitol riot was a "peaceful protest."  

Some of my friends and co-workers who couldn't or wouldn't see the world (or, more precisely, the USA) beyond the Hudson simply didn't understand someone in a moribund small town or rural area who saw his (or, in rarer cases, her or their) place in this country threatened by immigrants or people of color. Or why they believed that they were losing their rights as women, racial minorities and LGBTQ people were gaining those same rights.  

I could, because I was once one of those white males who believed I was being told to "shut up and pay your taxes" so that others could "sponge off" the system and, through "affirmative action," was being denied jobs that went to people who were less qualified than I was.  And throughout my life I have remained in contact, partly through family ties, with people who believe people like me and others different from themselves are getting "special privileges" when they are simply afforded the same consideration for education, jobs and other things cisgender heterosexual Caucasian Christian men (and, to a lesser degree, women) could take for granted, even if they weren't wealthy.

My views have changed, in part because of affirming my gender identity (what some people still call "gender transition" or "gender change"). Donald Trump's hostility toward transgender people is obvious.  Now that he is older and less inhibited than he was during his previous term, I fear that he will have less, if any, compunction about  targeting us in ways that Ron de Santis and Vivek Ramaswamy couldn't envision--or, at least, couldn't execute because they don't have the governmental and other resources available to them that Trump will enjoy as President. He has talked about ending protections equality for us. And too many of his supporters simply hate us, whether for religious reasons or because of their views about "masculinity" and "femininity." Worst of all, as we saw in the Capitol riots, they feel emboldened by his rhetoric and personality to commit violence against us, and anyone else they see as a threat to their world-view.

The last clause in the previous sentence, unfortunately, illustrates the political and intellectual climate of this country.  I am old enough to remember when if you were of one party and debated someone from the other, you could at least have a fairly civilized discussion of economics, foreign policy, social issues or even the arts.  Now it is a fight over your right to simply exist.  And that is what I fear most about the upcoming Trump term:  For me, and others like me, it will be simply about staying alive, much less out of prison or a mental hospital (to which we could be committed involuntarily). 

I also fear that too many of my fellow Harris supporters will understand why she lost this election even less than they could have fathomed a Clinton defeat/Trump victory in 2016.  That is the biggest reason--not the "low information voters" or people who "vote against their interests"--why Trump won again last night and why his second term could be more ominous than his first.

Bike To Vote, Vote To Bike

 

Today is Election Day here in the US.

May the best (wo)man win!

The Big Pun

 You never know who you might meet during your ride

even if it’s a commute!

High Visibility

Eight years ago, I recalled my comical attempts to sell bicycle safety flags that had been in American Youth Hostels’ storage room for, probably, a decade.

That got me to thinking about how we, as cyclists, can make ourselves more visible to motorists. Perhaps there is no better way than this:

A Cyclist’s Vote

 I voted yesterday. It You probably know my pick for President. And you surely know that at least one factor in my choice is that bicycling has been an integral part of my life.

Neither Kamala Harris nor Donald Trump addressed cycling directly. And neither said much about transportation per se. Both, however, have stated positions that could affect cycling, for racers, fitness riders, commuters and recreational riders alike, as well as those who say, “I’d ride, but…”

That last category of would-be cyclists is most likely to complete that statement with “I don’t feel safe “ or words to that effect. While Vice President Harris hasn’t indicated that transportation is one of her priorities, she has supported climate initiatives which, of course, are beneficial to the development of multi-modal transportation—and one of those modes is cycling.

She has also made safety in general a part of her campaign. That would mean, among other things, improved safety for pedestrians and cyclists on and along roadways.

On the other hand, Project 2025–to which Trump claims no connection even though, ahem, his running-mate JD Vance wrote the foreword—includes an infrastructure agenda that emphasizes broad deregulation and private investment. Such policies tend to favor large, auto-centric projects like highways and bridges. And during his Presidency, the Department of Transportation under Elaine Chao (Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell’s wife) adopted a hands-off approach to cycling and walking infrastructure.

Mentioning her marriage to, arguably, the most powerful person besides the President is not gratuitous on my part. You see, the makeup of Congress also hinges on this election. The Bipartisan Infrastructure Law, which President Joe Biden signed in 2021, is set to expire in 2026. Whether or not it’s renewed could depend on whether the Legislature has a Democratic or Republican majority. And that could be influenced by the Presidential election, as people tend to vote with their party.

Even if I hadn’t taken the time to learn what I’ve described, I could have voted against Trump, given his hostility towards cyclists. And women.  And immigrants. And transgender people. 

Hill Killer

 The title of this post sounds like a nickname for a serial murderer.  “Hill Killer” is actually the name of a bicycle apparel company in Hampstead, Maryland.

I haven’t bought bicycle-specific clothing, save for helmets and gloves, since I gave up my racing fantasies. I wouldn’t, however, mind riding one of their jerseys for my ride on this day, Dia de los Muertos.

And, of course, like any good gringa, I will eat Mexican food after my ride!