How I Could Have Become One Of The Remembered

Today is Transgender Day of Remembrance. All over the world, people will read the names of trans people who have been murdered during the previous year.  Such observances began on this date in 1999, one year after trans woman Rita Hester was found barely alive in her apartment.  She had been stabbed 20 times and died upon arrival at the hospital.

As brutal as her murder was,  it wasn't unusual for trans or non-binary people.  It seems that haters have a particular penchant for spewing their bile on those of us who don't, in one way or another, conform to the norms of whichever sex we were assigned at birth.  And living as the people we are seems to bring out the lawlessness of too many law enforcement officials.

I could have been one of their victims--and, possibly, one of the names read at the commemorations.  One hot day early in my gender-affirmation process, I was riding my Dahon Vitesse home work.  I didn't like the bike much but its flat-black finish garnered a lot of compliments.  One of them came through the window of a van whose rear windows were blacked out.  "Nice bike," the passenger commented.  I nodded in thanks.

The driver slowed that van down.  I rode past and thought nothing of it until it pulled up alongside me again and the same passenger yelled, "Nice legs, honey."  I was wearing a skirt that day and my legs are often complimented, or at least noticed.  So I thought nothing of it until the guy repeated himself, louder, "Nice legs!"  I paid no mind.  Then the guy bellowed, "Stop!"

Of course, I didn't.  But, as it turned out, it was a situation of "damned if I do, damned if I don't."  Again, the van slowed down, let me pull ahead, then caught up to me.  The passenger side flung open.  "When we say STOP, you STOP!"

"Why?"

"We're cops!"

"Show me your badges."

"Shut up!," the driver yelled.  "Shut up and do what we tell you!"

"But if you're a cop, you have to have reason to stop me."

"What were you doing in the projects?"

"First of all, I wasn't there.  I wasn't anywhere near there." That was true which, I think, pissed off those cops even more. "Just shut up and do what we tell you."

At that moment, I was picturing myself in the back of that van and ending up in the river that night.  So, when the passenger demanded to see my ID, I opened my bag. Fortunately for me, the ID I carried had an old address:  I had moved recently and was waiting for my updated state ID card.  

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"Where's that?"

"The address on the card"--which was a few blocks away.

"OK," hissed the driver. "Just remember--when a cop tells you to do something, you do it," the passenger bellowed.

"You can go now," said the driver.

As it was early in my gender affirmation process, I couldn't help but to think those cops--if they were indeed cops--were "curious" about me.  Or perhaps they were looking for a victim "nobody will miss." 

That incident went down not long after I had gone through a process of wondering whether my cycling would survive my gender affirmation process.  I had made up my mind to continue riding, but I have to admit that I wondered about my decision.

Fortunately, there are more transgender or gender non-conforming cyclists than there were back then, in 2005.  Or, at least, more of us are "out."  I've met a few and have made contact with others, including Molly Cameron and the wonderful Coline in Scotland.  And, of course, there is another Scot:   the incomparable Philippa York, nee Robert Millar, the first anglophone rider to win the polka dot jersey (for the best climber) in the Tour de France.

While cycling has become more inclusive--when I first started became a dedicated rider, nearly half a century ago, almost everyone who rode more than a few kilometers was male--we still need to work toward greater inclusion and safety, of, for and in our own selves.  That is our real journey, however and wherever we ride.

Seeing Myself, Seeing Themselves In Alex

 Last month, I wrote two posts--"The Unbearable Whiteness of Cycling" and "Our Bodies, Our Bikes"--in which I describe how some people are discouraged from bicycling because they don't see themselves represented in images of cycling and cyclists.  Too often, ads and other media show only certain types of people astride bikes.  Usually, they are young and Caucasian--and thin, especially if they are female.  By implication, the folks depicted in those images are, or seem to be, middle-to-upper class professionals or living on trust funds.

And they all seem to fit cultural notions of gender and sexuality as well as they fit the "lifestyle" apparel they wear.  The women might be fit, even somewhat muscular, but they always fit into  standards of femininity and attractiveness of their milieu.  The men likewise fit into their society's ideas of masculinity.  Nowhere does one find any hit of gender non-conformity or "queerness."

In those posts, I also mentioned that I nearly gave up cycling when I started my gender-affirmation process because while I saw dudes on bikes who looked something like the guy named Nick I was--and images of men like that--I didn't see many of middle-aged women and, although I had mental images of the woman I wanted to be, I really had no idea of what I'd actually become, other than a woman named Justine, and whether she would be anything like any of the few women I saw on bikes.  

That, after I spent much of my life cycling--and some of my youth participating in other sports--in an attempt to fit into those notions of masculinity (and heterosexuality) represented, not only in bike-related ads and art, but in the general culture.  And, I must say that I fit in, at least somewhat:  I got respect in my circles of bike riders and other athletes as well as from teachers and professors.  Sometimes I was teased for not bragging about sexual conquests of girls or women, but the taunts could be taken only so far when the taunters and teasers saw me beside a woman.

Now, I've been talking about seeing myself, or one's self in images of cycling and cyclists.  While I am referring to visual and graphic ones, I am not referring only to them:  I know how much all of us--gay, straight, trans, cis, male, female, White, Black, Asian, Hispanic, Pacific/Alaskan Native, rich, poor, or whatever--need to hear our stories echoed, or at least paralleled, in the ones told in books, magazines and newspapers, or on websites, radio, television, film or podcasts.

Alex Showerman in the White Mountains of New Hampshire

That is why I had a brief catharsis in reading about Alex Showerman.  As much as she excelled as a cyclist, as well as in other sports and in school,  "I was not experiencing the world as I wanted to, and the world didn't see me as I wanted to be seen."  This sense of isolation and alienation led to depression, which she tried to numb with alcohol.

In 2015, she began seeing a gender therapist to make sense of who she is.  Last July,  on a bike trip in New Hampshire with two of her closest friends, she "came out" for the first time.  She never felt so free, she said:  She finally could ride just for the love of riding rather than to "outrun her shadows," as a Bicycling article put it, or to pound herself into maleness, as I tried to do.

I am happy that she has begun to live as her true self a decade and a half earlier in her life than I did in mine--and that she realizes that life includes cycling.  She might become the cyclist in an image in which some young trans girl or boy--or other gender or sexual non-conformist--sees him-, her- or them-self for the first time.

Why She--And I--Aren't Going To Arkansas

A few US states have a problem with gender identity and variance.  Cycling, as a competitive sport and as an activity, shouldn't join them.

That is what Molly Cameron says in her Bicycling online article.  She is referring, specifically, to the bill in Arkansas that would ban trans girls and women  from competing on school and university sports teams consistent with their gender identity.  It would also ban young trans people from getting the health care they need.

About that second issue:  health care, for trans people of any age, is not just about hormones and surgery.  In fact, many trans and non-binary people choose to forego them (or, sometimes, just the surgery) for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is cost. In the following paragraph, I'll mention some of the things involved in transgender health care. In it, I'll mention a few intimate and painful details of my life.  If you are not comfortable about reading such things, you can skip the rest of this post.

If you embark on a gender-affirmation (what people used to call gender transition or gender change), or simply explore the possiblilty of one, you have to go through a few rigorous processes that involve various health care and social service providers.  (That is, of course, unless you buy hormones and get surgery on the "black market," which too many trans people, especially the young or nonwhite, still do.)  Your primary doctor and specialists such as endocrinologists examine your physical fitness for the process.  You also spend lots of time with mental health specialists--I saw a therapist and social worker every week--who, not only want to ascertain that you have a clear and accurate idea of what it will really mean to live in your "new" gender, but also to sort through the trauma as well as the positive effects of having performed a gender you were assigned at birth.  To some degree, your primary doctor, endocrinologists and other health-care professionals may deal with them, too.

The positive aspects include, for many of us, achievements.  I ran, wrestled, played soccer and cycled long distances, in part, in the hope that they would make me more masculine.  Whether or not they did that is debatable, but at least becoming an athlete, at least in some fashion, mostly stopped the bullying I'd experienced.  The bullies, I am sure, turned to gossip and rumor-mongering, or other low-level forms of aggression, but at least I wasn't getting beat up every day.  

Also, I was a fairly good student.  And, it may well be that my experience is, if not the reason, then a factor in my becoming a writer and teacher.  While I have met too many homeless or otherwise food- and housing-insecure trans people, I have also met, and know of, many who achieved much.  One such trans person is Dr. Marci Bowers, who performed my surgery.

On the other hand, almost all of us carry the often-toxic detritus of having to live as someone else.  Too many of us--including some of the high-achievers, and me--have struggled with substance abuse, failed relationships and other problems. More than a few of us have attempted suicide, and some, including two friends of mine, actually took their lives because they couldn't deal with the struggle anymore.  I can't help but to wonder whether, had they gotten help (which was unavailable to them, as it was to me, because of the times and places in which we lived) earlier in their lives, they might still be living and thriving as their true selves today.

From Cyclocross Magazine

That help, for some, includes participation in a sport--and, just as important, not having to pretend to be someone else in order to participate in that sport.  I can't help but to think that at least some of the politicians who proposed Arkansas' bill—and other related legislation, such as North Carolina's "bathroom bill"--have positive memories of participating in some sport, whether in school or in another organization like Little League or Pop Warner football.  I would assume that most, if not all, of them did not have to pretend to be someone else in order to play--or to use the bathroom once the competition is over.

Molly Cameron has drawn attention to the Arkansas bill for several reasons.  For one, she is a trans woman. For another, she has been involved in Cyclo-cross, as a racer and event promoter, for more than two decades.  Which leads to the final reason:  a Cyclocross World Cup event is scheduled for the state in October, and it will host the 2022 Cyclocross World Championships.  

She is not calling for a boycott at the moment, but she says that if the events are held in Arkansas, she won't be going.  She adds, "I won't be spending any money in Arkansas or any other state that is passing laws to discriminate against the LGBTQ community."  Finally, though, she offers her prescription:  "I am putting in the work and am hopeful that things will change."

Her optimism is not unfounded.  Change is indeed coming, however slowly, whether or not legislators in Arkansas or other states want to acknowledge it.

 

Is A Picture Worth A Thousand Words When It Gives Us Two?

As The World's Only Transgender Bike Blogger (at least, the only one I know about!), you can understand why this got my attention:

From bikechaser

Well, all right, the colors are hard to miss.   But the design is not exactly to my taste (at least, not anything I'd wear).  What piqued my interest were the words:  "Femme" (woman) on the jersey, "Homme" (man) on the shorts.

Hmm....

Defining A Human Right

Many, many years ago, I raced, albeit briefly.  My "career", such as it was, barely registered a pawl-click in the history of bicycle racing:  I once placed third and now I'm going to admit, for the first time, I probably finished that far up because someone better than I had a mishap.

I was young, full of myself (Who isn't at that age?) and full of...testosterone.  (You were expecting something else?)  Yes, in those days, I raced as a male because, well, I lived as one, by my given name and the gender marked on my birth certificate when I came into this world.  (It has since been amended.)  I could probably say the same for my erstwhile competitors.

The difference between them and me is that, as far as I know, they're all still living as males.  One or two might still be racing; I would guess that at least some of the others continue to ride, whether for fun, fitness or other motives.  I can't tell you whether any of them ever entertained any notions of living as anything other than the males they always knew themselves to be: My guess is that none of them have, though it wouldn't surprise me too much if one or two did.

If any of them were to undergo the same transition I have undertaken and wanted to continue racing, how would that rider be classified?

I'm not talking about "veterans" or "Category 3" or the classifications normally associated with racing.  Rather, I'm speculating on whether they would compete as males or females. 

You see, a couple of months ago, USA Cycling released its policy on transgender athlete participation to "bring clarity" to its "efforts at diversity and inclusion."  In all fairness, USA Cycling's new policy is clearly more progressive than that of other governing bodies in cycling or other sports--when, indeed, those governing bodies have written policies at all.

USA Cycling has divided its athletes into two groups:  Non-elite, which includes Category 3-5 racers, and elite, which includes Categories 1 and 2 as well as professionals.  

Non-elite cyclists may self-select their gender category, and if any questions arise about an athlete's eligibility, they may be resolved with medical documentation, how that athlete identifies in "everyday life" as well as other criteria.  None of that, really, sounds terribly different from what I used, before I had my surgery, to establish myself as female under the law as well as for employment, insurance and other purposes.

"Elite" cyclists, on the other hand, are subject to the more stringent rules of the Union Cycliste Internationale (UCI) and the International Olympic Committee (IOC), which focus on hormone levels and medical monitoring.  

The reason USA Cycling has these two sets of standards is that "Elite" riders can qualify for international competitions, while non-elite riders generally race only within the US.  

Rachel McKinnon, a philosophy professor who teaches a class on sports ethics and inclusion, says she has mixed feelings about this new ruling.  Her thoughts are especially interesting since she is a Cat. 1 racer who transitioned from male to female before she started cycling.  

She believes the fact that the rules even exist at all is good because they say that transgenders can indeed compete in races.  Some of us don't race--and many other would-be athletes don't participate in other sports--simply because we don't know that we're allowed to do so.  Others don't compete because we fear, or have experienced, harassment from other athletes who either believe trans people shouldn't be competing against them or simply don't want us around.   

Moreover, even if we are aware, some of us don't participate because we don't feel safe "outing" ourselves to organizations, especially if we are not "out" at work or in our communities.  Trans people, McKinnon says, " were voluntarily excluding themselves because they didn't want to take the risk."  Having a set of guidelines tells athletes that it's OK to compete, she says, and tells them "Here's how you do it."



Her praise for USA Cycling's new guidelines, however, is tempered by her criticism that they don't go far enough in another area:  Not all Cat 1 and Cat 2 riders race internationally.  (I would guess that the majority don't.)  She believes that those who don't should not be subject to a testosterone limit or any of the other medical criteria imposed by international governing bodies.  "I think that aspect of the policy fails to meet ethical standards of justification," says the philosophy professor.

In response, Chuck Hodge, USA Cycling's Technical director, says the new policy was crafted "not to create a witch-hunt" but to build "firewalls" primarily so that non-transgenders won't try to race as another gender "to prove a point".  I guess such a thing, were it to happen, would be more likely in non-elite domestic competitions rather than international matches.  Still, I'm not sure how many guys it will keep from competing as women, or vice-versa.  For that matter, I'm not sure that very many have ever tried to compete as their "opposite" gender.  

Still, I think USA Cycling should be commended for its new policy.  While it adheres to more stringent IOC (and UCI) rules about gender identity, it does affirm Point #4 of the Fundamental Principles of Olympism, spelled out  in the Olympic Charter (p.13):  Participation in sport is a human right.