Riding In The Body Positive

I don't have the body I had when I was 22.

At that age, my gender affirmation surgery was nearly three decades in my future.  (I didn't know I had a future!)  But that's not the only way in which my form has shifted over the years.

Of course, everybody's body changes over the years.  Some people mourn that:  They wish for the "ideal" body they had when they were young--whether or not they ever fit such an image.

While some segments of society are beginning to recognize that few, if any, of us remain at size four (I'm talking dress, not jersey, sizes!) in our fourth, fifth or sixth decades, acknowledgement has come that some people never mirrored the images presented to us in fashion magazines--or bike ads--even in their youth, through no fault of their own, has  been slower in coming.

The notion that cyclists, dancers and other athletes and performing artists have to conform to a particular body types discourages some from performing such activities.  It also triggers eating disorders and other mental health issues in some participants.

That is something Olivia Ray is trying to address.  The 22-year-old professional cyclist from New Zealand has volunteered to be part of a discussion of mental health awareness hosted by Rally Health, a sponsor of her team (Rally Cycling). "I think we get stuck on an ideal image, the holy grail of a particular body type," she says.  "Finding what makes us happy and what makes us feel most empowered by what we look like is, I think, the biggest thing," she explains.

From ages 3 to 16, she was enrolled in ballet, tap and jazz dance programs.  So she has experienced, in several venues, the pressure to conform to a particular body type.  While she concedes that in some instances, such as riding up a hill, it makes sense to carry less weight, "there is a fine line between what's beneficial to performance and harming yourself."  Obsession with weight can also cause reproductive health problems and other health issues for women, she points out.

One solution, she believes, would be to focus more on nutrition.  "If you're not giving yourself enough energy" during the ride or "enough fuel post-ride," she explains, "you will feel bad, you will feel like crap, and you won't want to keep riding"--no matter how well you fit the image of cyclists perpetrated in popular media.

 

Our Bodies, Our Bikes

Two weeks ago, I wrote "The Unbearable Whiteness of Cycling."  In it, I discussed some of the possible reasons why the current "bike boom" is largely a Caucasian phenomenon.  A major factor is the images of cyclists portrayed in advertising and the media in general:  Nearly everyone astride a two-wheeler is white.

And young, unless the cyclist in question is a celebrity--in which case, said cyclist probably looks younger than he or she is .

And easily idenitifiable as male or female:  There is little or no gender amibiguity or "queerness" among  cyclists shown in promos.

And thin, especially if the cyclist is female.

That last issue is the subject of a new video, "All Bodies on Bikes," directed by Zeppelin Zeerip, Its stars, Kailey Korhauser and Marlee Blonskey, remind us of a basic fact:  "To be a cyclist, you just have to be a person riding a bike."

As I watched this video, I was showing it to two other people:  My early-childhood self and the person I was early in my gender-affirmation (what I used to call my gender-transition) process. Before I started running, wrestling, playing soccer and riding long distances, I was a fat kid.  And, when I embarked on my journey from life as a man called Nick to a woman named Justine, I wondered whether I'd have to give up cycling.  I even raised that question to my social worker, a transgender man, and my therapist, a heterosexual cisgender woman--who, as it turned out, were cyclists themselves, though "not like you," as both told me.

I now realize that those fears showed how I'd internalized the images of cyclists I'd encountered, and how they were reinforced by my experiences: Until fairly late in my life as Nick, nearly all of the cyclists I knew were white and male, and if any were at all overweight, it was by only a few pounds.

My social worker and therapist used my question about cycling to re-pose (Is that a word?) another question to me:  How did I envision myself?  When I identify myself as female, how do I see that?  That, of course, is a question any therapist or social worker poses to anyone who believes he or she may be transgender, because it's fundamental:  Are you seeing yourself as Angelina Jolie or Jennifer Lopez (icons of the time when I embarked on my process )  or as the housewife or single mother you see in the market--or as your own mother, or someone else?

Although I've lost some weight and have been told I'm looking good, nobody will mistake my body for Christy Turlington's or Rihanna's.  Part of that is, of course, genetics and my body structure:  As I mentioned in my earlier post, I probably never will be smaller than a size 10.  That is true of many other women, including many who, at least to my eye, are quite beautiful.  

So, the issue of body shape is not just one of dress size (a sexist measurement).  It's also one of biology, class--and race.  Members of some ethnic groups, such as natives of American Samoa (which produces National Football League players far out of proportion to its population), are just naturally bigger than other people.  

This question of what a cyclist should look like is an example of what Kimberle Crenshaw defined as "intersectionality." For the most part, what we've seen in advertising and the rest of the media shows us that cyclists are supposed to be young, thin and white--and, by extension, of a certain social and economic class.  If we are to truly gain acceptance from larger society (and less hostility from motorists), the imagery of cycling has to be more inclusive.  "All Bodies on Bikes" is one step in that direction.

Naked In The City Of Rosebuds

OK, I admit it:  I've never been to Portland.  Now you might be asking yourself, "What kind of cyclist is she, anyway?"

And, sad to say, I don't expect to be there on the 7th.  Then again, some might be happy that I won't be in the City of Rosebuds for the World Naked Bike Ride.

I've never participated in a Naked Bike Ride.  Sometimes I had a very convenient excuse:  I was in a different part of the world from wherever the ride was taking place.  Even when the ride was in a more convenient location, I had a "scheduling conflict" or had less than a moment's notice.

Now, as to why the amount of notice should matter when the ride is happening in the city where I happen to be:  I don't know.  After all, how much planning could it take to get on your bike while wearing nothing at all?  Right?

Anyway, the ride's organizers say they're trying to promote positive body images.  Maybe that's the best reason for me to participate in the ride: I know I'm among the 99 percent.  Well, yeah, that 99 percent, but also the vast majority who look better with clothes than without them.  (Don't ask how I gained such knowledge!)

 

From last year's Philadelphia Naked Bike Ride

Like other Naked Bike Rides, only the starting point has been announced.  The route is a secret.  The reason for that, of course, is to minimize the risk of arrest and of meeting protesters, hecklers and those who would wreak havoc with the ride (as in breaking bottles in the roadway).  I'm thinking now of one of the objections voiced by Orthodox Jewish communities to bike lanes being built in their Brooklyn communities:  The paths would channel "scantily clad bicyclists" (Yes, they used that phrase) through their streets, in front of their houses and shuls.

Interestingly, fundamentalist Christians and Muslims--Yes, there are lots of such people in the Big Apple!--did not voice the same objections.  And the Hasidic Jews of Williamsburg have become among the biggest users of Citibike, New York's bike share program.

In any event, I wish the Naked Bike Riders well. From what I've heard about the city, I'm sure they'll have a great time in Portland.

Thanks to Mandie's Bikes and Beyond for alerting me to the ride!  Check out the blog.

Does Size Matter?

Recently, I met a seminarian who used to work in the fashion industry.  (Now there's a journey!)  She recounted dressing Christy Turlington for a show:   "Her arms were so thin I thought I'd snap them off!", she recounted.

We all know that most bicycle racers are thin.  Jan Ullrich, who won the 1997 Tour de France and might've won in 2001 had he not crashed, was often criticised for his weight. Even so, he was fitter and trimmer than 99 percent of people in the industrialised world.

Believe it or not, back in the 1890's, some fans as well as trainers believed "bigger is better" in cycling.  The rationale seemed to be that bigger men had more muscle and more weight to propel it, which would make them more powerful cyclists.  

There was even a cyclist who went only by the name of "Grimes" who carried  257 kilograms (567 pounds) on his 183 cm (6 foot) frame.  His chest measured  157 cm (62 inches) in circumference; perhaps that gave him more lung capacity.

Here he is, on a bike specially designed for him:

This illustration accompanied an article called "Grotesque Forms of Cycles" in the 30 December 1899 issue of Scientific American.  Check it out for illustrations of other bike that live up to the title's claim.

Advice from Brian May

If you're of my generation--or a Queen fan (Come on, admit it, you loved Night At The Opera!)--you surely remember the Brian May song Fat Bottomed Girls.

Even though the song was recorded more than 30 years ago, it remains one of the few to celebrate those of us who aren't built like fashion models. 

If you remember the song, good for you. If not, listen to it.  And note that line:  GET ON YOUR BIKES AND RIDE!

Would that Brian May weren't the only one giving that advice.  I did find this entry on Women's Cycling.ca encouraging us to do just that.  (The photo came from that site.)  However, I find that as the cycling industry is taking more of its cues from the mass media, the cyclists portrayed in advertising, videos and films about cycling,  seem to be more and more like those you see in ads for gyms and J.Crew.

And some bike shops perpetrate the bias against avoirdupois.  One day, in the last shop in which I worked, a woman who was (at least by most standards I'm familiar with) at least seventy-five pounds "overweight" came in.  She had been very athletic all through college, she said, but the detours of her life had taken her away from exercise and good eating habits.  Plus, after a surgery she needed following an auto accident, her doctor prescribed a medicine with steroids in it, which put additional weight on her.

She wanted to get back in shape, but because of knee and other injuries, her doctor (who cycled and played tennis, if I recall correctly), advised her not to run or play basketball.  Rather, he recommended cycling--an activity she once enjoyed--because it would put less strain on her damaged joints and ligaments.  So, she said, she was looking to buy a bike.

One of the sales people in that shop told her she should come back to the shop after losing weight. 

I felt badly for that woman, but I did nothing to help her. I hadn't thought about her in some time, and I've related the story as best as I can remember it.  

Did you notice that near the beginning of this post, I wrote, "those of us who aren't built like fashion models."  Yes, I include myself.  Of course, when I was training as if I were going to enter the Tour de France for 40-and-older riders, I woulnd't have said anything like that about myself.  Granted, I was trimmer and had more strength.  But almost no one has the same sort of body in middle age as he or she had when young. (Trust me:  I know that as well as anybody can!)  Sometimes it has to do with life taking the turns I've mentioned; it also has to do with the way our bodies age.  Also, in my case, taking hormones added a few pounds to the ones I was already gaining by other means.

And,  let's face it, most people aren't born to be a perfect size four.  (I'm talking about dresses, not Euro racing kit! In my prime, I wore a size three.)  So why should that bar any of us from cycling?  Is there any law that cyclists have to be, as one New Yorker columnist put it, "lycra sausages"?