This is not a story about female empowerment, or at least, not like you would think. You will not hear talk of activism and direct action, of the ensuing justice and equality hard-earned and fought for. This is a story a lot simpler than that. This is just a story about a bicycle, and a girl that wanted to ride.
I remember the day that I first went to BikeNBike. Kind of drunk and at some punk rock show. I had to pee and I was trying to not act a fool in front of the heavily populating StraightEdgeVeganAnarchist kids. There was something weird on my toe, and as I bent down to pick it off, or pet it, or whatever I was doing, I fell against a row of tightly packed bicycles. As if by magic calling, one bike in particular caught my eye. This particularly beauty gleamed through the crust dust that dullified the others into hipster oblivion. This bike, this bike was solid gold, bronzy glee, she reminded me of a hoop wearing fly girl stomping through the streets. In bicycle form of course.
This bicycle was labeled with the name of another, but I knew that it was I that truly rested in her heart. My BikeTechyFriend who happened to be StraightEdgeVegan relaxing nearby saw my wide-eyed adoration and offered to ask this tagged mystery owner if I may take this bicycle off his hands. "He's a nice guy", this golden bike owner. Things could really happen.
Weeks passed as I continued on my life as a mere pedestrian. I rode the bus sometimes, for longish distances, and got rides in friends' cars when necessary. Of course, I dreamt about my Supa Fly golden dream often, and thought of her there among bikes and bikes and bikes, lost in anonymity, knowing she was meant for much more magnificent glory.
One day I was meandering down the sidewalk, wearing flip-flops, pedaling nothing, headed to the good ol' Reef for some good ol' grilled cheese and a non-biker existence for just another day. I heard someone from behind yelling my name. I whirled around in the glare of downtown sun, awaiting that annoying acquaintance I surely wouldn't want to make small talk with. Lo and behold, it was my BikeTechyFriend, erupting out of BikeNBike with a crazy look on his face! I held my breath, afraid and nervous but very excited. Would this be what I hoped it was? Would all my bicycle dreams come true?
"Meg you can have the bike!"
(*triumph*)
BikeNBike had just closed but, BikeTechyFriend assured me, I could return during any of the ascribed open-shop hours and collect my golden treasure. I squealed and giggled and dreamt more Supa Fly dreams. Oh how I would pedal through the summer with zest and steal!
Three days later, I went to the shop filled with fresh anticipation. There I found a polo-shirted kid who looked me up, down, and never again. I found an older gentleman who would not stop spinning a tire and pretending I wasn't there.
PoloShirt said “What do you want?” I said, “I'm here to get my bike.” He said “What does it look like?” I said “It’s gold.” He turned and kinda looked around a little, “It’s not here.”.
I said “I think it is here I was told it’s mine.” He said “Ask Him.” I looked at Him who still sat on floor spinning tire talking to PoloShirt or maybe himself. Him would not look up. I said “Hi!” He said Nothing. I thought, Maybe I’ll wait for him to be Done. After awhile, it became apparent that Ignoring Me was a task he would not be Done with any time soon. I turned and trudged home, defeated and with nothing but feet to take me.
I am ranting about this on the street the next day and BeautifulBikeBoy with one dangly earring overhears me. He says "I will be there tomorrow come get it then Sunday at Noon!". I feel completely better. I now have a comrade. With BeautifulBikeBoy and BikeTechyFriend combined, it should be all the force I need for bike-nabbing, yes?
I go on this Sunday at Noon promised venture. I am not greeted by BeautifulBikeBoy, I am not greeted by BikeTechyFriend. I am greeted by a PoloShirt, who may or may not be the original, and by Him. Ignoring me. I ask for BeautifulBikeBoy. Of course he is not here. I ask for BikeTechyFriend. Weird look from all. I glance around for my bike, I don't see it, if shes not here for me Lord there's no hope for anything. I make a face, I redirect myself, and I swing that door open and trudge away once more.
By now it has been almost a month since I first sight of my gorgeous glamorous fly girl. I have walked and walked and ridden the bus. I hardly even remember what it is like to put the pedal the metal, to coast along the bicycle lane or load that baby on the bus. These seem like long-lost sentiments. My golden love may be lost to me forever.
One day I walk downtown from the eastside-and this takes about thirty minutes mind you whereas on a bike it would take about five. And who shall I see but my BikeTechyFriend. I say YO! LISTEN TO MY STORY! And then I rant and then he listens. And he slams down the cup of coffee he is drinking and he says LETSGONOW!
We dash to BikeNBike and I am excited full of fervor. I am entering with a member of the crew itself. I've got solidarity with biker bros. Who is going to stop me now?!
We get there, it is the craziest thing, PoloShirt has replicated himself into at least six others. There are also multiple HipOlyKids lounging around, looking ridiculously cool and ridiculously scary (often the case with those skinny jean rumble town punks). I ogle around in terror. BikeTechyFriend finds my golden beauty in about five seconds, tells Him (looking angry, glaring at the floor) that I will be having this bike, tries to introduce me but nobody cares enough to respond.
BikeTechyFriend does some stuff, I kinda watch, I am kinda scared by all the PoloShirts and HipOlyKids and I'm not really paying attention to what BikeTechyFriend is doing and then he says “Meg oil the chain can you do that!?” And I am so unsure and I say “Yes!”, and I look around wild-eyed for oil, for rag, for somebody that may tell me what exactly I am doing. When BikeTechyFriend sees that I am struggling, he grabs necessary supplies, shows me how, gives me a condescending look, I follow suit as best as I can while he dashes out to do something else important for somebody else maybe I have no bike bro on my side after all.
When I am done (and ridiculously aware of myself as an intruding outsider in this dude fest), I stand awkwardly waiting for more direction. BikeTechyFriend bounds back, fiddles with the tires, says in slow annunciated words something along the lines of“I need you to get a wrench, screw on the handlebar or brake chord or something I'm not quite sure but there are tools involved and figure it out I've got to do something BYE.”
At this point I am frozen in non-CarharttWearing non-CrustPunk non-Man terror, petrified, paused and in no state to make a motion. So let us pause in the story as well so we may think a few things over.
It is my first instinct to blame myself. I wasn't familiar with the terrain of this community resource, maybe it is only I to blame for being completely alienated. It is my fault that none of the DudeMenBros would pay attention to me long enough to give me my bike or answer my questions. Or that the ones that did were not even qualified to be in charge but felt justified in that role as they wielded male body parts and superior knowledge to unsure red-haired girls looking lost and fidgety.
Maybe it's my fault I've never played with a wrench before. I mean this is a community bike shop, but maybe its important that they stay catering to a very specific demographic that is not willing to give me the time to ask a question, not willing to help me or show me anything.
The thing is that blaming myself has gotten a little old. It has gotten a little old for me, it has gotten a little old for girl kind. It has gotten a little old for every person that has been degraded because of who they are, that has gone ahead and internalized that feeling. I am done thinking is my fault I know nothing my fault I'm a girl my fault no one thought to teach me about bicycles my fault I mean a little less in this world My Fault!
Now then, the reason for the aforementioned pause was that I wanted to talk about it being My Fault and how I felt bad. And now, we will continue.
So here I am frozen and not knowing what to do and everyone looks at me, everyone glares, “What did he tell me to do?” I squeak. Someone scoffs and says “Why would we know?” Someone else says “He told you to do this (eye roll)!”, gets up, hands me a wrench, I look at it, don't know what to do with it, I hold it awkwardly around the bike handle. PoloShirt#3 takes the wrench away and does some sort of screwing action. I am watching, but it is not being explained to me what is happening.
At this point BikeTechyFriend comes in, and seeing that I am not actually working on the bike myself, but having the others do it for me. He looks annoyed. Just like everyone else and just like myself. Behind him is the woman he was working with something important on, and I can't help but feel that she is also giving me the evil eye, a kind of Oh-So-You-Had-to-Get-the-Boys-to-Do-It-for-You-Huh-Way-to-Disempower-Yourself appraisal. There is no one on my side. Like I said, its all my fault that, after BikeTechyFriend left me to do things I didn't know how to do, I got groaned at and talked down to and when I couldn't figure it out and OlyHipKid sighed and did it for me. I still don't know how to do it but Eh.
By now the bike was ready for the taking, but I was still freaked out because there was future work to be done and by no means did I want to return to do it. The point of BikeNBike (atleast what they state in their mission statement) is that you learn how to fix up your own bike and can do it yourself, for free. This was a skill set I had definitely not cultivated in my multiple trips to the shop so far. I knew that there was a ladies' night that perhaps would save me from the biker bro-fest so haunting me in that moment. However, I also knew that this was a ladies night facilitated by a single OlyHipKid, and female or not I have never been made to feel very welcome by those creatures.
This anxiety, however, I will brush to the side. Because after enduring the torrid humiliation, degradation and overall annoyingness of BikeNBike, beautiful, glorious things happened. Through that adversity, came my sweet golden beauty, and at the end of the day(s), my bicycle and I were together at last. At the end of this story is not the smashing of patriarchy or the eradication of all oppression that came to mind throughout my experience, but, I did get my bicycle and with this something powerful just may occur. For it is as of today and every day onward that I ride the Supa Fly golden bicycle over the sunset and into state smashing warrior action; and what could be better than that.
I. Vision:
Hyper-local trash-culture internet-gossip glee
II. Values/Aims/Inspirations:
Celebrity gossip blogs
Craigs List fictionale Best-of-CraigsList
Analysis of SDS "Direct Action Kidz"
Memoir-ial of Bike 'N Bike Experience "Girl in Pursuit of SupaFly Golden Bicycle Brutally Rebuffed by BMX Bike Bro-Fest"
Cultivating an Image via Facebook Profile
Appropriating Us Weekly "Anarchists: They're just like Us!"
III. Mission Statement:
The Process is the thing
For the People
