The Idaho Stop: A Women's Issue (Or: Does Obeying The Law Kill Us?)

I learn some interesting things from my students.

From one of them--a criminal justice major--I learned that the vast majority of crime is committed by males between the ages of 15 and 25.  After that age, the crime rate plummets, and there is an even more significant difference between the lawlessness of males and that of females.

Or, to put it another way, females are more law-abiding than males.  Of course, that usually works to our advantage, but there are instances in which it doesn't.

One of those areas in which it doesn't is in traffic law, as applied to cyclists.  In most municipalities, the law requires cyclists to stop for red lights, just as motorists do.  Of course, such laws are not evenly enforced:  A state highway cop in a rural or suburban area is more likely to give a summons for running a red light than an urban police officer, and in cities, Black or Hispanic cyclists are more likely to get tickets (or worse) than a White or Asian person on two wheels.

But, according to studies, women are, proportionally, far more likely than men to be run down by heavy transport vehicles while cycling in urban areas.  As an example, in 2009, ten of the thirteen people killed in cycling accidents in London were female.  Of those ten, eight were killed by "heavy goods vehicles", i.e., lorries or trucks.  That year, about three times as many men as women cycled in the British capital.



That stark reality reflected conditions described in a report leaked by The Guardian's "Transport" section.  According to that report, 86 percent of the female cyclists killed in London from 1999 through 2004 collided with a lorry.  In contrast, 47 percent of male cyclists killed on London streets met their fates with a truck.

In unusually blunt language for such a study, the researchers concluded, "Women may be over-represented (in collisions with goods vehicles) because they are less likely than men to disobey red lights." (Italics are mine.)  They, therefore, confirmed what many of us already know:  We are safer, particularly in areas of dense traffic or in the presence of heavy vehicles, if we get out in front of the traffic in our lane rather than wait for the green light--and run the risk of getting smacked by a right-turning vehicle.



A DePaul University study of Chicago cycling and traffic patterns made use of the British study and came to a similar conclusion.  More broadly, the DePaul researchers concluded that it would be more practical and safer to mandate the "Idaho stop" for cyclists.  

In essence, the "Idaho stop" means that cyclists treat red lights like "Stop" signs and "Stop" signs like "Yield" signs.  It allows cyclists to ride through a red light if there is no cross-traffic in the intersection.  

Believe it or not, Idaho enacted that law all the way back in 1982.  Since then, no other state has adopted it, although a few Colorado municipalities have enacted stop-as-yield policies since 2011.  Interestingly, a 2012 decree allows cyclists in Paris to turn right at--or, if there is no street to the right, to proceed straight through-- a red light as long as they excercise prudence extreme and watch for pedestrians. Three years later, that policy was modified to allow cyclists to treat certain stop lights (designated by signage) as "yield" signs as long as they are making right turns or going straight through "T" junctions.

The funny thing is that you don't hear or read the kinds of flat-earth rants about cyclists in the City of Light that we regularly find in American discourse.  And, it has seemed to me, cycling is generally safer than it is in New York or just about anyplace else in the US I've ridden.

Now, back to my original point:  Allowing the "Idaho Stop", or even the policies of Paris or those Colorado municipalities, is not only a cycling or transportation issue.  It's a women's issue!

Why Else Would We Ride?

Today is International Women's Day.

I won't sully this post, or blog--or, for that matter, the digital world--by recounting what Trumplethinskin (a.k.a. TrumplerasPUTIN) tweeted.  I will only say that his missives are the very epitome of condescension or pure-and-simple insincerity, depending on your point of view.   

Instead, I'll repeat something I've included in previous posts.  It comes from the far-more-esteem-able personage of Susan B. Anthony:

Let me tell you what I think of cycling.  It has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world.  It gives women a feeling of freedom and self-reliance.

Surely she would have been happy to see these young women helping another learn how to ride:

Also, she would have been happy to see their outfits:  They were free of the whalebone corsets and voluminous dresses and skirts "proper" ladies were expected to wear.  Instead, they were attired in the far more practical "bloomers", patterned after the pants worn by fashionable ladies in Istanbul--and named for their designer, Anthony's fellow suffragist Amelia Bloomer.

Another fitting quote for this day, in my opinion, comes from Queens homegirl Cyndi Lauper:  

Girls Just Want To Have Fun:  Is there a better reason for us to ride bikes?

"They Had Beauty But No Licenses"

I've heard that certain women are attracted to male authority figures.  All right, I take that back:  I've known a few women for whom such men exerted a pull.  That magnetism was all the stronger if said authority figure wore a uniform.

Now, of course, I don't mean to imply, let alone say, that such women represent the rest of us.  Like any other group within a larger group, they are of and among us, but they are not all--or, most likely, even most--of us.

But I think more people in my parents' and grandparents' generations--women as well as men--believed that all or most women had that desire, or even a need, for such men in their lives.  I am living in different times; also, I have enough experience with authority figures of both genders so as not to be overly awed by them.  Plus, I have an innate skepticism of authority and institutions--which may seem paradoxical when you realize that I have spent much of my working life as an educator and, as often as not, avoid conflict and change when they are on the horizon. Moreover, I lived the first four and a half decades of my life as male, which, I believe, has magnified my skepticism, sometimes to the point of cynicism.

Now, I don't mean to say that I am disrespectful--at least, not deliberately.  On the other hand, I rarely, if ever, "play up" to power, in part because I am not very good at it.  Certainly, I don't think I'd be--or even try to seem--as happy as the women in this photo:

According to The Denver Post, which published this photo:

They had beauty but no licenses, and so the young women shown here had to walk back from their bicycle ride.  Two police cars halted the cyclists at 2551 West 26th Avenue in Denver after they had received a complaint that the bicycles had no licenses.  The bikes were returned to a dealer in a truck.  Left to right are Doris Weeks, Virginia Huke, Clodagh Jones, Genevieve Strauss, Patrolmen H.W. Gibbs and L.R. Wigginton, Elouise Downer, Marietta Grange, Lois Hale and Rita Carlin.

That photo was taken and published in 1939.  I wonder whether any of those women are still alive and, if they are, whether I am dragging their reputations through the mud.  Really, I don't mean to!

I just can't get over how they're all smiling.  Were they coerced into it, or were they genuinely happy, or at least content, to get the attention of Men In Uniform.  (A few years later, in a Hollywood movie, I could see any one of them would fall into the arms of a soldier or sailor disembarking from the war.)  And, I wonder:  How did whoever tipped off the cops know that those young women were riding without licenses?  


It would take a far more serious offense for me to call the police on them, let alone take them into custody. I guess that's one reason why I never became a police officer!

Fitting Man--And Woman--To The Machine

Note:  This post contains a frank discussion of a female-specific cycling issue.

Perhaps I am the last person in the world who should criticize anybody for having a surgery.

Still, I couldn't help but to cringe when I heard about women who had their toes shortened to better fit into sky-high stiletto heels.  To me, it sounded like a version of foot-binding that has the imprimatur of the medical establishment.

I mean, it's one thing to go under the knife, or to be bound and stitched to look the way one wants to look.  Countless people, including many transgender women I know, have had surgeries to lift cheekbones or chins, raise eyebrows or lower hairlines, or to change the shape of their noses or ears.  Still others have had their breasts augmented and buttocks lifted and firmed or had that most common procedure of all:  liposuction.

It's sad when people are cut, broken, bound and stitched to fit some Barbie-like "ideal" that no real woman meets.  Most such people look perfectly good the way they are; the others are simply unique.  But I won't knock anyone who has surgeries or other procedures if it makes them happier and better able to function in the way they wish.  After all, some people would say--wrongly, I aver--that my gender reassignment surgery fits into that category.  Certainly, I could have lived without it:  after all, I did, for decades before I had it.  I just don't know how much longer I could have lived, at least as I was.

What disturbs me, though, about toe-shortening is that it's done in order to fit a device, i.e., high-heeled shoes.  (A device for what?  I'll let you answer that!) How many of us would have our hands surgically altered to better fit our keyboards or our bodies reshaped to the contours of a chair?

Now, you are probably asking what this has to do with cycling.  Well, I'll tell you:  There are women who are having parts of their inner labias removed because they rubbed against their saddles.  This sometimes causes chafing, bleeding and even infections, as it did for me when I first started cycling after my surgery. 

Sometimes I still feel pain, as many other women do.  But it has been less frequent for me, as I have found saddle positions that work for me, most of the time, on each of my bicycles. And I have been experimenting with ways I dress when I ride, especially when I wear skirts.

But I am not about to undergo what some are calling "saddle surgery".  For one thing, my labia was constructed by a surgeon.  She did a great job (and it cost me a bit of coin), so I don't want to undo it.  Also, I simply can't see myself altering my body again to fit a machine, even if it is a bicycle.  If anything, it should be the other way around:  the machine should fit the human.

And my identity--the reason I had the surgery--is not a machine.  

Also, the pain I experience these days is really not any worse than the pain and numbness I sometimes experienced after long rides before my surgery.  Besides the equipment I have now is a lot less noticeable under form-fitting shorts than my old equipment was!

Girls Just Wanna Ride Bikes....In Iran

If you were going to start a movement, would you ban 51 percent of the people from participating in it?

Perhaps that seems like a rhetorical, or merely silly, question. 

It is, however, one that is begged by a turn of events in a country full of paradoxes.

I'm not talking about the US Presidential election campaign.  Rather, I am referring to a something that happened in a country where such things normally don't happen--and what resulted in one part of that country. 

The nation in question is performs more gender-reassignment surgeries than any country except Thailand.  Yet its leader once famously declared that there are no homosexuals in his country.

By now, you may have realized that I am talking about Iran. 

It's not a country noted for its advanced environmental policies.  So more than a few eyebrows were raised when, in November 2015, environmental activists in Aran, an industrial city in the western province of Markazi, introduced the idea of "Tuesdays Without Cars" or, more generally, "Clean Tuesdays", on which people are invited to leave their cars at home and, instead, commute by bicycle. 

The idea quickly spread and now all of the Iran's provinces have joined in.  Now it's on the verge of becoming a national event.

But national events aren't easy to coordinate in a country like Iran.  I have never been there, but I have been told that in at least one sense, it's like neighboring Turkey, where I have spent some time:  there are great cultural differences from one region to another.  So, in a city like Tehran or Istanbul, there are neighborhoods full of people who live lives not too dissimilar from those in Western capitals.  However, in both cities, there are also conservative religious enclaves.  So, it almost goes without saying that in the countryside, customs and interpretations of Islam are, shall we say, not exactly liberal.

In Marivan, a county of Kurdistan province about 500 kilometers from Markazi, some women were stopped on 29 July for the crime of...cycling.  At least, some police officers had the idea that women on bikes were haram.  For the time being, women can't ride bikes on the streets in the area.

While there is nothing in Iranian legal codes that prohibits women from cycling, in places like Marivan, the idea of a woman riding a bicycle goes against traditional religious values--or, at least, interpretations of them.

Now, I am certainly no expert on the Qu'ran or Sharia law, but I don't think anything in either would exclude women from riding bicycles, specifically.  But some would interpret those texts, which warn against shameful acts, to mean that women should not ride bicycles.

Or, at least, they would interpret them to mean that women should not be seen riding bicycles in public.  Upon hearing about the July incident, Mamousta Mostafa Shirzadi, the Friday prayer Imam for Marivan, said that officials of the Sport and Youth Organization "need to provide" the women an "appropriate indoor space" for cycling.

In response, organizers of Tuesdays Without Cars pointed out that women, as much as men, need to be able to use their bikes as transportation-- and not just for exercise or recreation, which is all that an indoor space would allow.

Here is a video from a protest against the ban:



Below is a still from a video of a mother and daughter defying the de facto ban on women cycling:

A mother and daughter defy the fatawa against women cycling.

She Would've Had Us Riding In Style--And Comfort!

When you think of female clothing designers (which, I assume, you regularly do! ;-) , names like Coco Chanel, Miuccia Prada, Vera Wang, Betsey Johnson, Carolina Herrera and Sonia Rykiel probably come to mind.  They have influenced what we--and, yes, you guys, too!--wear today. 

We American women, especially those of us who are active in any sport like cycling, owe perhaps an even greater debt to someone you probably don't know about unless you're, ahem, of a certain age. Or if you teach at FIT or Pratt.  Or if, of course, you are a fashion designer.

According to Jennifer Minniti, the chair of Pratt's Fashion Design Department (and herself a designer), the person of whom I am writing "is known as the inventor of American sportswear or ready-to-wear."  That's not an overstatement:  She was probably the first designer to understand how American women's lives were different from those of upper-class Europeans (who were, traditionally,  the main customers of most designers) and how they therefore needed clothing that was more functional and adaptable while still elegant and stylish.

Most important of all, her creations fitted and moved with the body, something that could not be said of the work of other designers, whose clients still largely eschewed physical activity. It is no surprise, then, to see that she created this "cycling costume" in 1940:

 

I don't expect to see that in the peloton. But, hey, forget that it isn't in Lycra--wouldn't you wear it? 

 

 

Claire McCardell, who designed it, was the first American fashion designer to garner name recognition.  She was so well-known in her time that in 1950, President Harry S. Truman presented her with the Women's National Press Club Award, making her the first fashion designer to be voted one of America's Women of Achievement.

Hmm...How would she have dressed the man who quipped, "I like riding a bicycle for two--by myself"?

 

Why Do--And Don't--Women Ride?

In late 2014, People for Bikes commissioned a study on women's participation in cycling.

Its findings confirmed some things I'd suspected but revealed other things that surprised me.

My own experiences and observations have shown me that more males than females cycle.  According to the study, 45 million women ride a bicycle at least once a year, compared to 59 million men.  In other words, about 43 percent of all adult cyclists are women.  Given what I've seen, I'm not surprised by those statistics. 

Nor am I surprised by another PfB finding, interesting as it is:  Boys and girls ride bikes at the same rate at ages three to nine.  At ten years of age, girls and women start to ride less than men and boys. The gap grows as they grow older, and is its widest at ages 55 and older.

That, in spite of something else the surveys revealed:  Almost the same numbers of women and men say they would like to bike more often.  One of the reasons women most commonly cite for not cycling is simply not having a working bicycle available at home.  This is a factor for somewhat higher of numbers of women than for men. 

Safety concerns are another deterrent to cycling for many women. While the numbers of women who worry about being struck by a car is roughly equal to the numbers of men who express such concerns, women are much more likely than men to cite fears about their own personal safety as a reason for not cycling.

One of the study's revelations that surprised me somewhat is that 94 percent of female cyclists rode for recreation while  68 percent rode for transportation to and from social and leisure activities.  Actually, I'm only somewhat surprised by the second figure, but more so by the first, based on my own observations and impressions here in New York City.

The most surprising part of the study (at least to me) is this:  A much higher percentage (31) of women with children than without (19) rode at least once a year.  Then again, the study found the same held true for men (46 vs. 31 percent).  These contradict a UCLA study that suggested women don't ride because they need their cars to handle childcare responsibilities. 

Knowing about the People for Bikes study leads me to wonder whether women's actual and perceived barriers to cycling can be overcome--and whether doing so would change the ways in which women ride.  If more women started to ride to work, and if more of us started to ride our bikes to social and other activities, would more women take up long-distance touring, racing and other genres of cycling in which the gap between women's and men's participation is even greater?

Horses Or Bikes, She Is A Real Freedom Rider

As you’ve no doubt heard by now, last month marked forty years since the release of Patti Smith’s album Horses. 

I was a senior in high school then.  It semed that my classmates fell into one of three categories:  the ones who loved it and didn’t want it to end, the ones who were looking forward to college or whatever else they were going to do after graduation, and those who just couldn’t wait to get out.

Those of us in the third category were, in one way or another, the class “geeks”.  Most of us were bookish; nearly all of us had some interest or talent that wasn’t fashionable in that high school where the unofficial motto seemed to be, “If you can’t f*ck it, smoke it or drive it and it ain’t Led Zep’, it ain’t worth it.”  More than a few of us read and/or wrote poetry or songs we would perform only for very close friends (who, naturally, were as introverted as we were); we loved poets like Patti who, we felt, told the truth—at least as we understood it at the time.

I had been writing stories, articles for the school newspaper and stuff I can’t categorize—most of which I lost or destroyed along the way from then to now.  Around that time, I started writing what some might call “free verse” poetry, or simply chopped-up sentences.  Whether or not it was “any good” (Let’s face it, how much of anything that we do at that age is?) is, I realize now, not the point, any more than whether or not I had the capability of becoming a world-class racer did or didn’t make the amount of cycling I was doing “worth it”.  Yes, I wrote and rode—as I do now—because I enjoyed those activities.  But more important, I could not envision life without them.

Actually, that’s not quite right.  I did those things, not only for pleasure, but also for survival.  And, in those days, the work of a poet like Patti Smith or Gregory Corso or Arthur Rimbaud was sustenance for “the journey”, whatever that might be.

I think what I really loved and admired about Patti Smith, though, was something I couldn’t articulate at the time, or for a long time afterward.  Now I’ll express it as best I can:  She did something interesting and unique, whatever its flaws (which I only vaguely understood at the time) and did it on her own terms.  At a time when I still did not have the terms or tools to articulate, let alone embody, the “differentness” I saw in myself—which others, especially the adults in my life, misunderstood as “rebelliousness”—Patti Smith gave us an image of how someone can become someone only he or she can become. 

When Horses came out, she was often described as “androgynous” because of the way she was dressed, and the way she carried herself, in the photo on the album’s cover.  The truth, I realized even then, was that she was actually showing that it was possible to be a woman in a way that didn’t fit into the boxes constructed by the governing institutions and individuals of our society.

She upset those authority figures in much the same way as the women who abandoned their corsets and hoopskirts for shorter skirts or “bloomers” so they could ride bicycles in the 1890’s. Most of those women weren’t consciously rebelling; they simply to wanted to live their lives as they saw fit.    

It might take a long time but, ultimately, independent spirits who realize their visions change the world and inspire us while those who try to suppress such spirits or the change they engender are forgotten or even vilified.  Most people, at least in the industrialized countries, think nothing of women wearing pants or skirts that don’t constrict their movement, and of working in what were once considered in “men’s” jobs.

Or of writing a line like, “Jesus died for somebody's sins, but not mine."

Knowing what I’ve just said, are you surprised to see this image of Patti Smith?:

How Important Is The Bicycle To Women's History?

In a post I wrote three years ago, I relayed one of the most striking insights Susan B. Anthony offered:
   
    "Let me tell you what I think of bicycling.  It has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world.  It gives women a feeling of freedom and self-reliance."

Yesterday, I came across this:

     "Advertisements, magazines and posters promoted the image of the New Woman, just as other forms of mass media would later exhibit images of the flapper, the housewife, the wartime worker, and the androgynous feminist.  The bicycle was the symbol of the New Woman's freedom outside the home, as she raced off with her friends--men or women--down city streets and into the countryside."

Obviously, that didn't come from Ms. Anthony.  It did, however, come from a source that's intersting, if not as much so as, and for different reasons from, the godmother of feminism as we know it.

The second quote is the only mention of the bicycle in The Social Sex:  A History of Female Friendships, by Marilyn Yalom with Theresa Donovan Brown.  Dr. Yalom is a former Professor of French and senior scholar at the Clayman Institute of Gender Research at Stanford University. Ms. Donovan Brown is a former speechwriter and ran a financial communications firm.

I strongly suspect that Dr. Yalom supplied most of the information and Ms. Donovan Brown did most of the writing.  After all, the section on women's friendships and the salons of 17th Century France contains ideas and insights that only someone who read the sources in the original could have gleaned.  And the prose flows freely--like, well, a good speech.

Therein lies both the book's strengths and flaws.  While Donovan Brown's prose flows freely, it often lacks depth.  While Yalom's research provides the reader with glimpses into the nature of the relationships described in the book, and shines a light onto documents that might otherwise have been lost, those documents (letters, stories, essays and novels) come almost entirely from women (and, in a few cases, men) from, or with connections to, the upper classes.  That, perhaps, is not Dr. Yalom's fault, as most women who weren't part of those classes were illiterate until the 19th Century and rarely went to college before World War II.

Still, the book is an engaging and, at times, interesting read.  It won't turn you into a scholar or an expert, but it's a good starting point for anyone who wants to read more about relationships or women's history.  Finally, there is something to be said for any piece of writing that reminds readers of the importance of the bicycle in changing women's lives, however brief and fleeting that reminder might be.

Go Thou And Do Likewise

One of a child's first milestones is when he or she can walk without help.  For many (and, I assume, for everyone reading this blog), a subsequent milestone is riding a bicycle without anyone or anything to aid with balance.

For even the most agile of kids, learning to ride a bike involves a fall or two, and some bumps and bruises.  Kids recover from such things quickly; indeed, most forget the pain of those experiences.

When you get to a certain age, shall we say, wounds don't heal as quickly as they did when you were young.  (That is one reason why I gave up mountain biking in my mid-40s.)  The good news is that your sense of balance is almost certainly better than it was when you were a toddler, and your muscles and reflexes are conditioned in ways they weren't when you were a babe.

Still, it's hard for me to imagine what it's like to learn how to ride a bike at age 53.  It's especially difficult for me to envision a novitiate of that age learning to ride in the sorts of clothing "proper" ladies were expected to wear in public in 1892, not to mention on the kinds of bikes that were ridden at that time.

However, there is one woman who managed to do just what I've described.  She says that it took her three months of practicing fifteen minutes a day, and during that time, she took only one fall.

If you think that the woman I'm describing had a very determined will, you'd be right.  Those of you who've done a bit of reading in women's history--or about one of the most infamous periods of American history--know who she is:  Frances Willard.

To say she's one of the most interesting and enigmatic figures in history would be an understatement.  She's sometimes credited as a founder of feminism--at least in its earliest iteration--in this country. In a sense, that's true:  She believed that it was not only a woman's right, but also her destiny, to have equal citizenship with her husband.

Notice that I wrote "her husband" and not "a man."  You see, she believed that a woman's duty was still mainly domestic and that her work should be focused on the education of her children and the emotional and spiritual support of her husband. 

Because she believed that women had to "temper" their men, at the same time she was crusading for women's suffrage and other rights, she was a leader in a movement that would lead to the greatest failure in American law and social policy (aside, perhaps, from the War on Drugs).  That, of course, was the Eighteenth Amendment of the US Constitution, which was repealed by the Twenty-First Amendment thirteen years later.  It's more commonly known as Prohibition, and it was the culminating achievement of the Women's Christian Temperance Union, of which Willard was a leader.

Her almost-schizophrenic ideas about women's rights seems to have been an all-too-logical result of her own experience.  Growing up in rural Wisconsin, she raised livestock, chopped wood, broke horses and did all of the work men did in that environment--until she turned sixteen. 

The notion of Sweet Sixteen in the 1850's was to give a girl who just turned that age her first corset, hoopskirt and high heels.  In other words, she got the privileges of restricted breathing and hobbled walking.  She described the sadness she felt over being forced into the prescribed role for a Proper Young Victorian Lady, but somehow she managed to break off an engagement and never be married. 



One might think that anyone who could choose to live a life independent of the expectations of her place and time, and to help found two of America's most significant social movements (as misguided as one of them was), would have felt at least some degree of confidence about herself and her place in the world.  However, as she says in "Wheel of Fortune", her mother's death exacerbated the strains she was already feeling about her exhausting schedule of researching, writing, traveling, teaching and speaking--not to mention the conflict between her struggle for her own, and women's, independence and her struggle to live, to the degree she could, according to the expectations of her place and time.

It was while facing such a predicament that she realized the  "conquest" of the bicycle by someone like her, "who had so many comrades in the white-ribbon army" would be "influential."


She exhorted those "comrades" and other women: "Go thou and do likewise."

 

She Rides In Australia

A friend expressed consternation that today I cycled to Connecticut alone,  something I've done before.

I have also done that ride, and others, with friends.  But, she says, she wonders how I can ride alone.  

She is about a decade and a half older than I am and has not ridden a bike since she was a teenager.  That was typical for the place and time in which she grew up.  She says she'd thought about riding again but had difficulty finding other riders, particularly female ones.

"And the roads are so dangerous.  Don't you worry?"

I explained, as I've explained before, that I am careful but that cycling, while it has its risks, is really no more dangerous than any number of other things people do.  "To tell you the truth, I feel less safe crossing some streets--especially Queens and Northern Boulevards--as a pedestrian than I feel when I'm biking," I elaborated.

Her fear is a common one. In fact, a recent study shows that it's the main reason why women don't ride bikes.  To address that fear or reality, depending on one's point of view, Cycling Australia has initiated the "She Rides" program to get women to take to the same roads men ride every weekend.

Participation Coordinator Alex Bright said that while most women cycled as children, getting them back in the saddle as adults had been difficult.  In the hope of encouraging more women to ride, "We wanted to create a program that connected them with like minded women to help them get going and riding," she explained. "We wanted to provide a way to support women to get on their bikes because a lot of women feel unsafe on the road."

Members of a She Rides group in Parramatta, New South Wales

That program includes an eight-week course that now operates in 46 locations throughout Australia.  Charlene Bordley has coached three She Rides programs and says that while physical fitness is a benefit of riding, "it's also about mental fitness."  Riding for the first time in their adult lives--or, in some cases, for the first time in their lives, "is freedom for some people," she said.

Bordley, Bright and others involved with the program are doing something right:  Ninety percent of the women who have participated say they are more likely to ride on bike lanes or quiet roads than when they started, while 78 percent are more likely to ride busy streets.  

Manju Prajesh is one of those participants.  Even today, she still can't believe she now has the confidence to ride on the road.  "We have totally lost our fear," she says.

 

A Ride For Sally

When we're young, it's difficult and even hurtful to learn that people we admired--whether celebrities or family members, teachers or others in our everyday lives--are, well, people.  We might find out that our favorite actor, writer, athlete, aunt or uncle did immoral or even illegal things.  Sometimes finding out the dark side of someone we took as a model for one aspect or another of our lives is painful even after we thought we'd "seen it all".

One celebrity about whom I never became disillusioned is Sally Ride.  In fact, I found myself admiring her even more as the years went by.  It seems that being the first American  woman in space was just one of many accomplishments in her life.  Few people have ever done more to encourage girls and young women to study math, science and technology--fields from which they were too often discouraged, dissuaded or even bullied out of studying or working.  

I think now of Sophie Germain, whose parents took away her clothes--and heat and light at night--in an attempt to stop her from studying mathematics, which was deemed inappropriate for a "proper" young lady.  I also think, in this vein, about 1977 Nobel Laureate Rosalyn Sussman Yalow, whose parents wanted her to get a college education but protested when she decided to study Physics on the grounds that "no man would want to marry" her.  

If Dr. Ride faced such opposition from her family or anyone else, she never let on.  In fact, she did not let on much about her personal life, including her relatively brief marriage to a man and her later, much longer partnership with a woman.  Most people did not know about those things until they read her obituary three years ago.

Whatever the circumstances of her life, she understood the difficulties young women and girls faced--and still face--in pursuing STEM careers.  So, she did everything she could to help them--and their teachers, who sometimes were not confident of their own abilities to encourage their students in those areas.

Here she is helping a student understand some of the principles of gyroscopic motion with--what else?--a bicycle wheel:




She would have been 64 years old today. If I could be in Northern Virginia two weeks from now and I were still racing, I'd take part in the Ride Sally Ride.

What Kind Of A Lesbian Cyclist Am I?

Five years ago, as I was recovering from my surgery, "Velouria" of Lovely Bicycle! suggested that I start a bike blog.  (Now you know who to blame!;-)) At the time, I had been writing  Transwoman Times for a bit less than two years.  When I started Midlife Cycling in June of 2010, I thought TT would run its course and I'd keep it online for posterity--or, perhaps, revisit it from time to time.

Well, nearly five years later, TT is still going.  I can't seem to let it go.  That may be because its focus shifted from my own experience of transitioning, surgery and starting my new life to LGBT-related subjects in general.  Not only that, I can't seem to keep trans (or L, G, or B) themes out of this blog any more than I could keep cycling out of Transwoman Times.  

Once again, those aspects of my life are going to meet--in this post.  You see, I came across something from The Most Cake, a blog by and about young and hip lesbians in London.  

While I've noticed a number of young lesbians and genderqueers (or people who simply don't fit into most accepted definitions of gender and sexuality) at bike-related events and establishments here in The Big Apple, it seems that there is a more prominent subculture of lesbian cyclists in the British capital.  At least, that's the impression I get from The Most Cake and from things I've heard from people who've been in London more recently than I've been. I can't say I'm surprised, really.  

Anyway, according to the author of the post that caught my eye, there are five distinct types of lesbian cyclists in The Big Smoke: 

1.  Aggressive girls in Lycra
2.  Eco-warrior on self-built touring bike
3.  Feminist cyclist with a cause
4.  Fixie lesbian with tatoos and piercings
5.  The catch-all lesbian cyclist who cycles because she likes it and it's better than public transport or walking or micro-scootering.

 

Hmm...Had I been living as female earlier in my life, I definitely would have been 1, possibly 3 and/or 4.  Of course, if I'd started living as a woman when I was 20, I wouldn't have been wearing Lycra, as it wasn't yet available.  But I would/could have been the equivalent of type #1.  

If I had to classify myself today from any of those types, I'd say I'm number five, with some of number three thrown in.  And, perhaps, number two--after all, I've built a touring bike of my own and I try to do what's environmentally sustainable.

But I don't plan on getting any tatoos or any more piercings than I already have (on my earlobes).  Or to wear Lycra again, even if I lose weight.  But I do plan to keep on riding.  And, perhaps, I'll meet Ms. Right.

She-roes On Wheels

I grew up at the tail end of a generation in which boys (of all ages) venerated comic-book superheroes.  We had the Green Hornet, Captain America, Spiderman, the Hulk and, of course, Superman, among others.


As I recall, the only female superhero was Wonder Woman.  There was Batgirl, but I never thought of her as a hero (heroine) because she always seemed subordinate to Batman, and even Robin.


Now, I could tell you that the dearth of girls with superpowers is the reason why I never was never a fan of the superhero genre.  I didn't hate it, mind you:  I just never could care about it.


(By the way, that's more or less the way I feel about science fiction and fantasy.  It's not that I think of them as inferior genres:  I simply never could, for whatever reasons, immerse myself in them.)


Still, I have to wonder how my life might have been different had I grown up seeing something like this:







She's the creation of Thought You Knew founder Alexis Finch.  The lissome lass (!) in the drawing appeared in TyK's Bicycle Pinup Calendar fo 2012.


Ms. Finch says Thought You Knew is a "knee-jerk reaction to the lack of strong women as cycling role models in Chicago.  She explains she was "tired of leaving my sexuality at the door to get taken seriously in bike shops" and "frustrated at seeing so many women sitting on the sidelines at bike events".


For that alone, Ms. Finch sounds like a hero for me!

My Kind Of Team

One probable reason why I'm a writer,  teacher and cyclist  is that I'm not a particularly good "team player."  Yes, I played football (soccer) long ago, in a faraway galaxy (i.e., high school).  However, I developed a strong preference for individual pursuits--or, maybe, I was born with it.  So, most of what I've done for work and fun has involved my working alone, or working, without necessarily collaborating, with people.  And I very rarely join organizations of any kind.

But I might have joined this team:

From Buy A Fixie

Women on bikes--with clubs!  What's not to like?

Now I'm The "Older Woman" Riding A Bike

Time was (How many posts have I started with that phrase?) back in the day (Or that?) when I could develop love interests only with people who were older than me.  Or, at least, I couldn’t get involved with people who were younger than I was.

Anyway, I was describing my old dilemma, if you will, to a friend.  She sighed knowingly.  “I understand how you feel,” she said.  “The young ones look good.  But finding one with whom you have much in common is difficult.”

“Forget that,” I retorted.  “I’m getting to an age where there are fewer and fewer people who are older than I am.”

She laughed.  “And, you know, when you look for men who are available and don’t have baggage, the pool shrinks even more,” she added.

I didn’t tell her that I wouldn’t limit my prospects to men.  If I can find a woman close to my age with whom I’m compatible, I could make the rest of it work, I think.

Why am I talking about these things?  Well, I found myself thinking about my concept of “older” the other day while riding home.  What triggered such a rumination?  

While riding to work, I saw two women who, from all appearances, were in the later stages of middle age. (No, they're not the ones in the photo!) One rode a Cannondale road bike with dropped bars; the other pushed pedals on a Specialized hybrid or flat-bar road bike.  Both looked as if they were dressed from the Terry catalogue.  

 Then, during my bike ride home, I saw a woman who seemed a few years older than the two women I encountered earlier.  She could have been a poster child for the AARP.  Her scarf very stylishly swirled a pastel paisley between her neck and breasts; her pants and blouse were tailored but un-self-conscious.  She was navigating the streets on what looked like a French mixte of some sort:  I couldn’t see the brand, but I knew it wasn’t Peugeot, Motobecane, Gitane, Ficelle or any of the other Gallic marques I know.

Later, as I dismounted my bike in front of my place, I saw a woman riding an English three-speed down my street.  That itself was not as remarkable as that she was, apparently, older than the other women I saw by at least a decade.  What’s more, she looked as if she’d been living in the neighborhood all of her life.  If that is part of her story, she is probably Greek or Italian (She looked the part) and, most likely, the wife of a blue-collar or middle-class worker.

Time was  (There’s that phrase again!), not so long ago, when a woman like her would not have been on a bicycle.  Nor would her husband or any other member of her family old enough to drive.  For that matter, I would not have seen women like the others I mentioned.  

As I’ve mentioned in other posts, when I was in my late twenties and thirties, I could ride the whole length of Vernon Boulevard, near where I live now, cross the Pulaski Bridge and ride down Kent Avenue and further along the Brooklyn side of the East River and New York Bay without seeing another cyclist.  Back then, most of the neighborhoods were blue-collar or lower middle-class, except for some then-low-income areas of Williamsburg and Sunset Park.  The culture of those places was much like that of the neighborhoods in which I grew up:  You simply didn’t ride a bicycle if you were old enough to drive a car, whether or not you actually drove one.

 

Furthermore, those rare adult cyclists I encountered were all male.  Most were close to my age; occasionally, I’d pass one who were older than my parents.  Usually, such an older male cyclist was an immigrant who never gave up the habit, so to speak, after settling in the New World.  But I never saw a female cyclist unless I rode into a neighborhood like Brooklyn Heights or the Upper East Side or out of the city into a suburban enclave.  The few I saw weren’t commuting or running errands; perhaps they were riding for fitness, but most likely, just to decompress.  

It was rarer yet to see “older” women ride.  Of course, at that time, my elders were in their late thirties or older.  I recall two simply because they were so unusual:  One, who was probably in her forties, wore a Chanel suit and slingbacks while riding a women’s Colnago--to this day, the only one of those bikes I've ever seen.  The other rode with my bike club; she was about the same age I am now.  Even more interestingly, her husband didn’t ride.

I’m her now, minus the husband.  That is to say, I’m an “older” woman, at least in the way I used to define it.  Although I like it, I often wish I could have begun my gender transition at an earlier age so I could have lived more of my life as a woman.  Then again, given the conditions of the time, would I have grown up to be that woman I so admired on our club rides?  Or the one I saw on the Colnago?  Or one of those women “of a certain age” I used to see riding to marketplaces, to parks, to stores and offices—sometimes to their jobs—when I was living in Europe?