When my friend Tiffany asked me to contribute to her new zine about gender (in)equality in cycling, my answer was an immediate, “Hell yes.” Having cycled in more than a dozen cities across the world, as both a tourist and commuter, I can report anecdotally that there’s most definitely a gender imbalance in cyclist representation, on the streets and in lobbying halls. If you’re interested in reading the full zine, Mind the Gender Cycling Gap, it’s available through Microcosm Publishing. My contribution is below.

The Zine [and my thumb].

I’ve always liked cycling as a means to explore nature and visit friends, but it wasn’t until I started cycling for my commute that I reflected on its relationship to my own sense of female empowerment.

You see, I work at a large corporation — 350,000 employees, to be exact — and there’s nothing informal about our workplaces: Strict business dress, a predominantly male workforce, and offices mostly in high-rise buildings, which are far more likely to contain parking garages than bike racks. When I started to commute by bike, I would wear workout clothes, maybe not as intense as the MAMIL uniform, but a far cry from my work clothes, to be sure. As I became more comfortable with cycling, though, I found myself wanting to reclaim those extra 30 minutes in the morning (time changing clothes and showering). And soon enough, I did.

Parisian-style, I’d wear my work clothes as I biked to work — often cycling in dresses, skirts, heels, whatever (the more improbable, the better). People, even girlfriends, would ask, “Did you really bike in that?” I loved being able to say that I did: I felt like I was mainstreaming cycling by, first of all, just being a woman who cycled, and second, being a woman who cycled in whatever-the-f*** she wanted to cycle in. In that way, cycling wasn’t just a fashion statement, with the bicycle itself becoming an accessory to my outfits. It was a statement, period. In commuting to work by bike, I was actively showing that I cared about sustainability, that I wasn’t afraid to be cycling while female (catcalls and all), that I was willing to take up physical space on roads even if cars got angry, and that I was going to make the cycling experience my own.

The result of all this? I’d walk into work every day feeling like Beyonce — a perfectly put together, bad-ass female who was take care of her mental and physical well-being, while doing something that was overall positive for the community.