Good Neighbors Make Good…

 Just as, at my age, I don’t have to be told to slow down, there are many other things no one has to remind me not to do:

From a Reddit thread

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.

We May Not Be Able To Follow The Dutch, But We Can Get To Where They Are (More Or Less)

A few days ago, Mark Wagenbuur re-posted an early post on his excellent blog, Bicycle Dutch.  In it, he outlines the developments that led to the Netherlands' much-lauded bicycle infrastructure and culture.  

Utrecht city center in 1929...

Perhaps most important, he shows that his country wasn't always the cyclists' paradise one encounters today.  Before World War II, bicycles were the main mode of transportation for many Dutch people.  Photos show streets relatively free of cars and cyclists riding among, but not competing with, trams.  After World War II, however, increasing affluence led people to foresake two wheels for four.  Another photo from 1968 shows a street as clogged with motor traffic as any in an American city (though, it's hard not to notice, the vehicles are smaller).  It was during the 1970s, he says, that the movements that led to today's system of bike lanes and other facilities began.

..

...and in 1968

Activists and planners of that time also advocated for changes in city planning to encourage motor-free transportation and recreation.  He shows motor vehicle-free central business districts, some in centuries-old areas of cities.  As he points out--in contrast to the arguments of their American counterparts--business owners report increased business because a cyclist or pedestrian is more likely to stop by whereas a driver might pass by if they can't find a parking space.

But his post also points to another parallel with the US that might help to explain why such developments are slower in coming to America. For one, he mentions that in recent years, the amount of cycling in the Netherlands has stabilized--which isn't surprising when you realize that bicycles have outnumbered people for some time. (They do in my apartment, too!)  Those statistics, though, have layers, and if you peel off one of them, you find that cycling has increased in urban areas but decreased in the countryside has decreased.  I don't know what the numbers are for the US, but I suspect that there is a similar situation at work--or that, at any rate, most of the increase in American cycling has come in or near urban areas.

For another, he talks about the resistance to making city centers more auto-friendly. (One of the images is a rendition of a proposed highway that looks alarmingly like the ones in areas like Southern California and other auto-centric areas. Thankfully, it was never built.)  While cycling declined for a couple of decades after World War II, remaining cyclists fought to make their country safer for riding.  Also, making some city centers more auto-friendly meant, not only removing bike lanes or streets that were safe for cycling, but also some beloved buildings, some of them centuries old. When some of those structures were lost, people thought that perhaps the price of "progress" wasn't worth it.

While there is some interest in preserving historic structures in some American cities, on the whole the environment in the US is more amenable to large-scale development.  Some of that has to do with citizens who still see building bigger buildings as "progress," but I suspect that it has at least as much to do with the fact that mega-developers have more influence on politics and the media, at the local as well as the national level, in the US.  

Also, business and commercial districts in some American cities, especially the newer ones in the South and West, are auto-centric by design.  In contrast, the older Dutch (and other European) city centers, with their narrower streets and smaller plazas, were created long before automobiles came along.  So, I would suspect, making them more bicycle- and pedestrian-friendly would mean, at least to some degree, returning them to their original state.  Or, at least, making them bicycle- and pedestrian- friendly doesn't require as much of a radical redesign as would be required in most American cities.

Finally, there is the matter of geography.  The Netherlands is a much smaller country, and places are closer together.  So people need less convincing to see that bicycling is a practical way to get to where they need to go--and that riding is simply fun.  If someone lives 100 kilometers away from work, as many Americans do, no bike lane is going to convince them not to drive.  At best, such a commuter might be enticed to ride his or her bike to a train or bus station--if indeed there are safe and secure parking facilities at the station. Or if there is a train or bus line at all.  That is another area in which Dutch and other European people are better-served than Americans.

So, Mark Wagenbuur has done a service by showing that his country wasn't always the cycling Nirvana we see today.  More important, he shows that it was once before a country of cyclists, but planners and ordinary citizens learned from their mistakes in emulating American transportation and city planning.  Perhaps we can learn from our own mistakes and, although we can't go about it in the same way as the Dutch (or Danes or other Europeans), we can make this country more amenable for cyclists and pedestrians.  It's one of the steps we need to take in order to keep from cooking ourselves (and most other life) on this planet!