I Rode That Way Then Because This Is How I Ride Now

"Velouria" wrote about me and this blog on her "Lovely Bicycle!" blog.  

She made me blush.  I may not know much, but I know this:  The only thing better than a man who can make a woman blush is another woman who can make another woman blush!

Part of me wonders whether I deserve such a wonderful write-up. First of all, look at the photo at the top of her blog and the one at the top of this one.  Not only is she (or whoever took that photo) a better photographer than I'll ever be, she's also more beautiful and stylish.   Take a look another look at that photo:  Do you really think I can compete with that?

Also, look at the layout and design of Lovely Bicycle!  I wouldn't have a clue as to how to do anything like that. And, finally, read her writing and compare it to my ragged prose.

But, hey, what can I say?  I'll take the compliments.  Besides, she's right definitely right about the fact that I've experienced two completely different aspects of cycling, and I'm one of the very few people who's experienced both of them.  

The funny thing is that I was the "lycra-wearing, hard-training, fast-spinning, Alps-conquering roadie...named Nick" precisely because I wanted to be "the woman who cycles to work in a skirt and heels."  Or, more precisely, I was the hard-riding guy precisely because I always knew that, deep down, I was, and was meant to be, that woman cycling to work, to the marketplace and down a country lane to the sea.

So why did I live and cycle as I did?  Well, I have to admit, I enjoyed competitive riding, whether or not it was sanctioned in a race, and the camaraderie that accompanied and followed it.  But I now realize that I wanted to ride as hard and as long as I did because I had so much anger in me.  By now, you probably realize what forged much of that anger:  the cauldron of rage that roiled from the fires of my unfulfilled desire--to live as the woman that I always knew myself to be.

Some guys' worst nightmare is finding out that the girl for whom they've fallen was once a guy--and probably even more of a guy than any of them ever were!  Of course, I don't mean to make light of that:  Too many of us have been killed over that. But, it's hard not to see the irony in it, and to apply it to my cycling life:  What if some of those guys I used to ride with and against were to meet me today?  

Actually, one of those guys has.  And he's taken it very well.  He has an even stronger sense of himself than I ever imagined he did.  What am I saying?  Back in the day, I wasn't even thinking about whether he or anyone else was secure within his own skin.  There was simply no way I--as I was in those days-- could have thought about that. 

But as for the other guys...well, I'll tell you about one of them.  He would have utterly despised me, as I am now.  Or, at least, he would not have been seen with me, whether or not either of us was on a bike.  But I know for a fact that if no one else were watching, I am the very first person he would have come to, for love, advice or just about anything else.  He would have--if he were honest with himself--spent the night with me rather than with his wife or any girlfriend he ever had--or, for that matter, almost any other woman and absolutely any man.  He would have gone for rides with me for the same reasons he would have gone to museums, poetry readings and stores, and walked the streets of Paris, San Francisco, Rome and Boston with me.  

Actually, he wouldn't have done any of those things with me.  He did those things with me.  What's more, he did them with me, and in the presence of his wife and girlfriends.

By now, you've probably figured out who that man was.  Yes, he was me.  And he was who he was--including that "lycra-wearing, hard-training, fast-spinning, Alps-conquering roadie"--because he was me:  the "woman who cycles to work in skirts and heels."

The Dirt On Their Phobias

One of the wonderful and crazy things about the Internet is that you can find almost anything and everything on it.  You never know what lies only one mouse-click away from the next site you're going to visit.


That was how I found some blogs I now follow and enjoy:  Lovely Bicycle!, 1410 OakWooD and A.E. Brain come to mind.  Ironically, I found Lovely when I was convalescing and couldn't ride my bike.  During that time, I also found 1410 Oakwood because its author found me when we both commented on the Velo Orange blog.  And he sent me a very nice message.


But now, as I near the first anniversary of my surgery, it seems as if I'm finding all the L's and G's who hate trans people.  The author of Joe.My.God is not himself transphobic.  At least, he doesn't seem to be, from the stuff he writes. (How does he post so many times a day?)  But some of the people who comment on his posts  hate us just as much as Fred Phelps thinks God hates "fags."  One in particular seems like a gay version of an Angry White Man.  At any rate, he just seems like some bitter guy in late middle age who just happens to be gay.  He thinks that everyone in the world--including, and especially, trans people, got and have some sort of privilege to which he seems to feel somehow more entitled.    For all I know, he might be Fred Phelps or someone of that ilk posing as a gay man.  That wouldn't be hard to do on a blog.  Then again, somehow I don't think Rev. Phelps would pose as a gay man, no matter how deep the cover.


Then there is the author The dirt from Dirt.  (I assume her nom de web is Dirt.)  She--and most of the commenters on her posts--so hate anything that ever was or could have been male that they have to bash male-to-female transgenders.  We have, ahem, chosen to live as the women we are.  Most don't do what we do in order to uphold the patriarchy and don't have access to the male privilege (which, I know for a fact, exists) she seems to think we have.  If anything, we have to give up that privilege--at least, I know I did.  And lots of women I know--including straight women and ones who make "Dirt" seem like Paris Hilton--have said as much to me.


"Dirt" is one of those people who seems to think that if anyone gets what he or she wants, it's come at her expense.  She might call her way of thinking radical feminism or butch separatism or some such thing, but her mentality is really no different from that of an Angry White Male, or almost any Tea Bagger or anyone on the Far Left. They all have the mentality of a kid who just saw his or her parent give a new toy to a younger sibling.


I usually try to keep such people as far away from my life as I can, simply because too much exposure to their bile is toxic.  Now, Dirt has the right to hate or resent me or anyone else for whatever reasons she deems appropriate.  The thing is, she's completely unwilling to let anyone else have that right. So, for that matter, is the bitter old queen who comments on Joe's posts.   Maybe some of us act and dress the way we do because it fits who we are and allows us to move about in the world as we need to.  And, given that I'm probably not applying for any job they'd want, I don't see how I'm keeping them from getting one they want.  


I don't mean to imply that only bitter butches and querulous queens have such hatred and resentment.  A former friend of mine accused me of changing gender, in essence, so that I could get the jobs and have the men she felt she deserved.  I'll grant her that she deserves those jobs more than I do. But then again, I'm not applying for them.  As for the men:  Her belief that I am, or could be, competing with her in that area is one of the silliest notions any person of my acquaintance has ever held.  Most men consider her more far more physically attractive than I am (and, truth be told, I agree with them) and she makes more of an effort to get dates with them than I ever did.  She defines herself by her ability to attract men to a degree that I don't think I ever could, even if I wanted to.  (For that matter, I never so defined myself by my ability to attract women, either.)  Plus, for me it's not about getting a man or woman; it's about getting a companion. On top of those things, my taste in men is completely different from hers.


That woman holds a PhD in Comparative Literature with a certificate in Gender Studies.  Now you know why I'm not impressed with such things.  Hmm...She did have a female lover once.  Perhaps she'll go that way again.  Then, she could hook up with Dirt--and they'll make only two people, instead of four, miserable.


It's not as if I didn't know there are transphobic G's and L's--and liberal academicians.  I just never knew how vicious they can be simply because of their irrational fears and hatreds.  I should be as powerful as they must think I am if they fear me so!