Last Saturday I wore a red spangly skirt and learned something. Here's the story:
Amy and I rode our bikes from Boston to New York (290 miles) again this year, in last weekend's Braking The Cycle fundraiser for AIDS services at The Center (The Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Community Center in New York City). Thank you to all who supported our fundraising. As last year, the ride was an extraordinarily moving experience.
We rode with my brothers David and Eric as "Team Sasha" (Sasha is Eric's very energetic Vizsla dog, so we felt very energized).
The first part of the ride went through beautiful countryside. This is Oneco Pond in Connecticut
and some nearby cows.
But what really got me back to posting on this blog (yes, I've been away for awhile!) was my experience on Day 2 -- "Red Dress Day." Riders are encouraged to wear red dresses -- originally the idea was to create a vision of a giant red ribbon, but even more Red Dress Day has turned into a way to claim freedom of expression (even freedom of exuberance!), and to raise public attention to the ride and its effort to combat AIDS.
I am not usually a flamboyant dresser. I wear a button-down shirt and khaki pants to work every day, with the explicit intention that I not draw attention to my clothing. But this was a cause, so I was all in. Amy made our sequined red skirts, which were very wearable while biking and also quite ... noticeable. Here I am with my brother Eric:
and my brother David:
And here's the story:
I rode with David and Amy and some other riders through most of the morning on Day 2. It was quite cold in the morning, so only later in the day did we strip off our layers and start to show our "true colors." After lunch, I went off at a faster pace. For awhile I rode with other riders, and then for awhile I was in a section of the ride by myself. This is the point at which I was down to my red shirt and skirt, and I started to notice the reaction. There were some little girls outside a church pointing and laughing. There was a woman in a car who refused to make eye contact with me (OK, there was also another woman in a car who called out "I love your outfit!" in a very friendly way). I started to attract comments and looks from the sides of the street that seemed quite hostile. Most of this time I was biking myself, and I started feeling very vulnerable.
Finally, I was stopped at a stoplight, I felt that the men on the side of the street were looking at me in a really unpleasant way, and I had to admit it: I felt scared. I wasn't going to take the skirt off (I had bike shorts on underneath); that felt like it would be ducking the question. But I was feeling pretty nervous.
And then some other riders caught up with me. One guy was wearing wings made out of amazing red feathers. Another man was wearing a fluffy red tulle ballet skirt. And I thought to myself, "I never before knew what a comfort a man in a red tulle ballet skirt could be!"
My other thought, of course, was to think about the ways in which living my mainstream "button-down" life shelter me from the hostility and fear that others must live with daily.
Here's a picture of Team Eagle, a rather flamboyant group of riders representing the Eagle Bar in New York City. Together they raised well over $100,000 for AIDS services this year.
