In the middle of the journey of my life, I am--as always--a woman on a bike. Although I do not know where this road will lead, the way is not lost, for I have arrived here. And I am on my bicycle, again.
Nearly four decades ago--in 1982, to be exact--the state of Idaho passed what might be the single most intelligent and common-sensical piece of legislation ever made in the United States. In my opinion, it does more to make cycling safer--especially for women--and, I believe, enjoyable than all of the "cycling infrastructure" that's been built in this country.
I am referring to what has come to be known as the "Idaho stop." In effect, it allows cyclists to treat red lights as "Stop" signs and "Stop" signs as yield signs. If there is no cross-traffic, cyclists are free to proceed through the intersection, even if the light is red.
The effect of such a law is something I argued with a cop who ticketed me: It's safer to get out in front of traffic that's traveling in the same direction as you are, especially if that traffic includes trucks or buses. In waiting for the light to turn green, you run the risk of getting clipped by a right-turning vehicle.
It would be more than three decades before any other US state adopted similar laws, although a few Colorado municipalities did so. In Paris, France, cyclists can treat designated red lights (which are marked) as "Yield" (cedez le passage) signs as long as they are making right turns or proceeding straight through T-shaped intersections.
Now one of Idaho's neighbors, Utah, will join two other Gem State neighbors (Oregon and Washington) in implementing the "Idaho stop." On 5 May, North Dakota will join them. Delaware and Arkansas also have similar laws.
I hope that my home state, New York, will become part of the Enlightenment. (Hey, I couldn't resist that one, after mentioning Paris!) And I hope other the rest of the country will follow. Idaho d'abord, puis le monde?
But yesterday really was a commemoration of trichetus manatus. I encountered one during one of my bike rides in Florida, when I stopped for a swim in a place where I probably shouldn't have been swimming. The "sea cow" swam close to me: I've since learned that they are very curious, and pose absolutely no threat to humans or most other living creatures.
On the other hand, humans are a threat to them, if inadvertently. Waterfront development has endangered some of the manatee's habitats and, because their ears are attuned to high sound frequencies, the lower ones emitted by motorboats confuse the creatures, who are then struck by the vessel or its propeller.
So...there is no April Fool's joke here: Yesterday really was Manatee Appreciaiton Day!
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.
In my youth, bicycles were scarcely mentioned at all in daily newspapers. Editors, it seemed, reflected the attitude most Americans held: Bikes were for kids, and not worthy of "serious" consideration.
Bikes appeared in daily newspapers only in public service announcements about bike safety (some actually told kids to get off their bikes at every intersection and walk their bikes across) buried deep in the paper. Or, perhaps, a bike shop would take out an ad for a sale or the holidays.
Never did I imagine that any paper would ever post reviews of bicycles--or of bike accessories. So imagine my surprise when I saw a review of double-leg kickstands in the Chicago Tribune's online edition.
From The Chicago Tribune
I think the review's author, Kevin Luna, did a good job. He evaluated kickstands on a number of factors, including ease of installation, crispness of the mechanism and whether or not the length of the legs can be adjusted. He thought the best overall came from Luminitrail, BV offered the "best bang for the buck" and that Velo Orange's offering (the Copenhagen) merited an "honorable mention."
Mind you, I'm not in the market for a double-leg kickstand, but I can understand why someone would want them for a cargo bike or any loaded machine. If nothing else, they make more sense than single-leg kickstands.
Community-minded cyclists have started organizations like New York's Recycle-a-Bicycle all over the US. Their stated goals usually include, keeping old but serviceable bicycles out of landfills, providing good bicycles that are affordable (many such organizations sell bikes to finance, among other things, giving bikes to the poor) and helping people learn bicycle-related skills.
That last goal often has another positive side effect: It engages young people. Kids who are misfits or outcasts become confident when they ride with cyclists who want to share their love of cycling, or when they learn how to fix or even build bikes.
Any time a kid is involved with an activity that takes dedication--whether it's cycling, chess, a school magazine, dance or something else--he or she is less likely to be involved with gangs, drugs or other things that can adversely affect their lives and futures.
Now it seems that organizations that serve young people are seeing the value of cycling. One such organization is Remember Us Urban Scouts of Columbus, Ohio. It has partnered with the city's Parks and Recreation Department to create a mobile bike shop that will be sent into low-income communities.
"One thing that impacts people that live in low-income areas is mobility," obsereves Ayriq Sims. The RUUS Program Director explained that in such communities, people lack transportation because they family may not have a car, the kid doesn't have a bike and nobody in the family can afford bus fare.
The result is that kids can't, for example, get to the activities that build social skills and positive memories for young people. They thus feel alienated and are easy to recruit into gangs, or are otherwise vulnerable to getting sucked into get involved in the worst the streets have to offer. If it doesn't lead to jail or death, Sims says, it can lead to "lifelong trauma."
So, Remember Us Urban Scouts is extending work that urban bicycle recycling programs and bike clubs are already doing: Using a bicycle to break a cycle--of youth violence.
I haven't been part of any religion or faith tradition in a long time. I did, however, attend Catholic school and was an altar boy. (That sounds so odd to me after more than a decade and a half of living as female.) One thing I recall is that while we had an hour of religious instruction every day and were brought to confession after our Friday classes, we were not encouraged to read the Bible.
Later on, I did read the book on my own and, in fact, was even part of a couple of study groups. I came to the conclusion that while the Roman church might have had its own reasons to discourage Bible reading, it probably saved me, if unintentionally, from falling down the rabbit hole of all rabbit holes: Biblical interpretation.
Since I can't read the Biblical languages, I can't say which translations are the most accurate, or which interpretations are closest to, as Constituional fundamentalists would say, the original intent. (Constitutional scholarship might be the second-deepest rabbit hole.) Was God male, or did God become so because of translations? Did Jesus turn water into an alcoholic beverage rather than wine, and should Matthew 6:11 read "Give us this day our daily nourishment"?
Palm Sunday commemorates Jesus' entry into Jerusalem on, as recounted in Matthew 21. Traditionally, this account has him riding a donkey. But at least one Biblical scholar that someone was exercising poetic license, if you will, and argues that the story should have him astride a "pack animal" or "vehicle."
Folks in that part of the world invented one kind of superhighway. Now they might get another.
San Jose is the largest city and seat of Santa Clara County, California. Just south of San Francisco, the county is part of "Silicon Valley," where the technology that brought this blog to your screen--often called the "information superhighway" was developed.
Now it might see a "superhighway" that's more closely associated with parts of Europe than any place in the United States. It would run 10 miles through San Jose and Santa Clara. What would differentiate it from the county's 800 miles of bikeways and 200 miles of dedicated bike trails is continuity. Local activists and commuters, like their counterparts in other US locales (including my hometown), complain that too many lanes and trails go from "nowhere to nowhere," beginning and ending in seemingly-arbitrary spots, and are thus not useful as transportation conduits.
This "superhighway" was recently proposed as part of the Santa Clara Countywide Bike Plan. Three different routes have been suggested. Information about the progress of this project can be found on the Valley Transportation Authority's website--which you will access, of course, by the other kind of superhighway.
Yesterday afternoon, I took another ride into the heart of Brooklyn. What, exactly does that mean? Well, the way I'm using the term, I mean a place where no hipster or white milennial dares to tread. Or, you might say that it's anyplace along the 2,3,4 or 5 subway lines past the Eastern Parkway-Brooklyn Museum stop, or the L (a.k.a. the Hipster Express) beyond the Aberdeen-Bushwick stop.
No, I didn't ride up those tracks! They carry the L train along Van Sinderen Avenue, widely seen as the border between the two toughest neighborhoods in Brooklyn, if not the whole city: Brownsville and East New York. I was on the Brownsville side, where Riddick Bowe and Mike Tyson were born and raised. Meyer Lansky was raised the and started Murder Inc there. Interestingly, Larry King and Alfred Kazin also hail from there.
People often talk about being "on the wrong side of the tracks." That phrase has no meaning here. Perhaps it will come as no surprise that the two neighborhoods have turned out, per capita, more hip-hop artists than anyplace else in the world.
I must say, though, that the drivers I encountered were careful. And a few people waved to me.
Maybe it has something to do with the atmosphere that once prevailed at the other end of the neighborhood:
The East 105th Street station is the penultimate stop on the L line. Until the mid-1980s, it held an interesting distinction: It was the only New York City subway station with a street-level grade crossing. Yes, it had a gate that dropped, bells that rang and lights that flashed when a train pulled into, or out of, the station.
That, of course, meant people couldn't be in as much of a hurry as they are in other places. Could it be that calm driving practices are passed on--genetically?
Oh, by the way, a guy was selling sweet and salty snack foods, and knockoff accessories, from a table. I bought a few snacks, which I gave to homeless people I saw on my way home. The man seemed genuinely happy for the couple of dollars I spent at his table.
I love a beautiful bicycle as much as anybody does. All you have to do is look at Dee-Lilah or Zebbie, my Mercian Vincitore Special and King of Mercia, to see how I care about fine workmanship and finishes. At the same time, I appreciate and respect the technological refinement of modern bikes and components. I avail myself to as much of it as I find useful--and affordable.
But I also understand that what if the current bike boom, fueled by COVID, is to continue, it won't be on the wheels of bikes sold in boutique shops for more than workers in the developing world make in a couple of years. Wherever the bicycle is seen as an integral part of the transportation network, let alone as a way of life, people are riding utilitarian machines (think of Dutch city bikes) to work or school, or bikes that are sportier, if not much pricier, to the park, seashore or market. And, in such places, bike shops and mechanics concentrate on keeping those commuters and recreational cyclists on the road (or getting them there in the first place). They don't spend much, if any, time working on the electronic shifting systems of $12,000 bikes.
In other words, those mechanics are like Joe Haskins who work in shops like the one that bears his name. He bought it from its founder, his aging uncle, in 1958, when the shop was still known as Tampa Cycle--and he was 17 years old.
Joe Haskins. Photo by Kelly Benjamin
He never left, literally and figuratively. Over the years, the shop moved to several different locales, all within the same area of Tampa--and, most important of all, serving the same sort of clientele: basically, anyone who needed a bike or repair. Sometimes his services had nothing to do with bikes or cycling: Former Tampa Bay Times reporter Alan Snel (who writes the Bicycle Stories blog) noted, "every mayor has their downtown pet projects, but the essence of a city is the neighborhoods and small businesses like Joe's bike shop that help everyday residents with everyday issues."
So, when the driving force/guiding spirit of such a business retires or passes away, as Joe did last Saturday, it leaves a hole in the community. But it seems that the shop will continue: During the past few years, as Joe's health declined, family members stepped in to keep the shop's unwritten mission alive.
Tampa's All Love Bike Crew will honor his memory with a ride on Sunday. Somehow I don't think that many Crew members will be riding $12,000 bikes or $300 helmets.
Shirley Chisholm State Park opened in 2019 but was only recently named in honor of the woman who represented my Congressional district (albeit with different boundaries) for seven terms. In 1972, she became the first woman to run for Democratic party's presidential nomination, and the first black woman (she was born in Brooklyn to West Indian parents) to run in either major party.
I would love to know what she'd think of the park's location: In addition to all sorts of substances not meant for human consumption, various rumors had it that the Mafia, other crime groups and individual criminals disposed of bodies there. I wouldn't doubt the veracity of those stories, and I'm even willing to believe that one reason the location was used was, in addition to its remoteness from central parts of the city, its chemical composition: Supposedly, the bodies dissolved quickly in the toxic stews and soups that festered there.
Ms. Chisholm, though, probably would be pleased that it's been turned into a park. It's officially been part of the Gateway National Recreation Area since the 1980s, when the dump closed and cleanup began, but was off-limits to the public. Some trails and a really nice loop for walkers and cyclists opened recently, and there are exhibits that explain the kinds of wildlife and fauna living in the area.
What would please the park's namesake most of all, I think is that the park borders East New York, one of the most impoverished neighborhoods in the United States. Not surprisingly, nearly all of East New York's residents are black or brown. An adjacent neighborhood, Brownsville, is like East New York but even poorer and tougher: One of Brownsville's projects (what the Brits call council flats), the Pink Houses, gave the world Riddick Bowe and Mike Tyson.
Oh, and the park's entrance opens onto the bike/pedestrian path that runs along the Belt Parkway from Howard Beach, Queens to Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn. As it happened, I rode in and around the park on my way to Canarsie Pier, where I've taken many a ride.
Shirley Chisholm overcame many obstacles. So it's kind of ironic to see this:
A steep hill? A bump? Only sissies are intimidated by such things. I am a transgender woman.
