Somewhere near Wenatchee, 2018.
Sometimes I think about how “quiet” moments like this felt or how good a well-loved house cat seems to have it- how those moments and those house cats sort of seem free from the noise, the racism, the arrogance, the ignorance, the hate, the anger, the frustration, the vitriol, the blame, the GOP, etc etc etc.
Other times I think about how cis and white cycling is and how it’s so full of privilege. And yes, I am a cis white dude with all kinds of privilege. And I think about all the people who got mad because the bike shop did not drop everything to fix their bike on the spot. Most of the time, these are white dudes, often times (in Seattle) who own mountain bikes (who generally take zero care of their mountain bike) who are upset because they waited til the last minute to have their bike looked at- an after thought though it seems to be SO IMPORTANT.
And then I think about all the black people killed by white cops and the Asian folks getting harassed by white people and all the members of the LGBTQ community who are harassed for no good reason what so ever, and all the women sexually assaulted and harassed, and it makes me wonder what the fuck am I doing with myself and my time because in so many ways, bicycles are toys to 95% of the population in this country. They are luxury items or a thing for kids to most- yet there’s a whole host of people who need bikes to deliver shit like food to rich people so they can hide from a pandemic, meanwhile local restaurants and the gig economy workers get left to bleed out so some investors can try and get that ROI.
As usual I don’t really know where I’m going with this. But I know that I want the world to be a better place for everyone, especially people who aren’t cis white men. And I want to help at least make cycling a less cis white enterprise that has a little more awareness.