Cycling Privilege

It is incredibly difficult to describe privilege precisely because it is invisible to those who have it. They are invested in proclaiming that they have no privilege, that they worked hard to get where they are, and they insist that the system works the same for everyone. Because they truly do believe that. Being blind to privilege is part of the internal working of the system of privilege. Being convinced that you alone are the reason you have succeeded is part of privilege itself. Becoming aware of your privilege is the first step in dismantling it.

I have certain kinds of privilege that I’m aware of. I’m white and that is a huge privilege. I’m well-educated, which is a kind of privilege that offers me opportunities. I was raised by educated parents and that shows in my diction and my reading habits. But I’m not male or cis-het and I’m not neurotypical, either. So I see the systems that work behind assumptions of everyone being “the same,” when that isn’t true. I wasn’t raised by wealthy parents. We were probably lower middle-class in actual income, but my parents often lived as if they were poor, mostly buying used clothing for us and buying the cheapest food possible. I shared a bedroom for most of my life and my strict religious upbringing is a kind of disadvantage, as well.

This week, I had an experience on the walking/biking trail near my house that I’ve been thinking about for a while. I was passing a couple of cyclists on ebikes who were relatively inexperienced and while I was doing this, I guessed wrong about how fast an opposing cyclist was coming towards us and I ended up partly on his side of the trail while he was there. He made a rude hand gesture at me and directed a facial expression that was angry. Not fully road rage, but a version of it for cycling.

My initial reaction to this experience was to feel like I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have waited to be sure I could pass without needing the other cyclist to accommodate me. I felt like I was a hypocrite who complains about other people using the trail improperly, dog owners not leashing their dogs or people riding on the wrong side for no apparent reason. But after about thirty minutes, I decided that no, I didn’t really do anything that deserved that kind of reaction. Because the trails are meant to be shared. And there was no real danger in what I’d done. The other cyclist was just mad because he had been asked to share his side of the trail for a brief five second window and he thought that he shouldn’t have to do that.

What I had experienced was his privilege, his assumption that he had a right to something that he thought I should offer without him having to do anything at all. He felt that he owned the trail and he felt that anyone who expected him to share it at any time was encroaching on what was rightfully and solely his.

As someone who was socialized as a woman, I have spent most of my life making myself smaller in literal and metaphorical ways around men. I have been taught that I deserve less of the resources of society. I deserve less food, less money, less physical space on trains and as I walk passing men who play chicken with me in hallways and on the street. I am always being expected to get out of the way and to cede my access to my fair share because I’m seen as a woman who is lesser. Women need more bathroom stalls because we carry children and because we have periods, but men are constantly contending that the same number of bathroom stalls is fair and mocking the reality that women’s bathrooms always have lines and men’s bathrooms don’t.

When I do triathlon races it is the only time in my life where the women’s bathrooms have more space. But this is only because women are often allocated fewer family financial resources to pursue hobbies and because a sport like triathlon is often ego-driven. It can be tricky to ride a bike in a triathlon space where men tend to outnumber women 4 to 1. Men are more aggressive cyclists and I have more than once discovered when a man caused an accident, they are heavier and walk away from such accidents with their bikes intact where I end up in an ambulance with a concussion and a damaged bike. Men complain that women are worse drivers, but men cause more fatal accidents because they drive (and bike) more aggressively.

When I pass a male cyclist on my tiny, child-size custom Cervelo bike, the immediate reaction is almost always for them to speed up and try to pass me back. This is one of the most annoying things that happens to me regularly in these races. It’s particularly stupid since men start triathlon races as a group between five and ten minutes ahead of the women, so by the time I pass a man on a bike, I already have a five-minute lead on my finish time and him passing me back will not make a dent in that. But he needs to feel like he is beating a woman, especially such a small one.

I suppose I should feel sorry for the burden that white, cis-het men feel that they have to constantly prove themselves better, stronger, and faster than everyone else. I suppose there is an argument there that I should be more cautious around them and cede them space because it is simply dangerous for me not to. I am small as a woman and I can be damaged fairly easily. But yeah, it’s probably not going to turn out that way. Maybe it’s because I have older brothers who were very aggressive and a father who used to make us debate each other around the dinner table and who taunted the boys who let the girls beat them in any way (which I did, frequently). I don’t have cycling privilege, but I do have a chip on my shoulder. Sue me.