I’m Allowed on the Road

Posted on by gracesmuggler
Me, posing with my bike. I also wear a helmet, though I don’t have it on for this photo.


Yesterday, a man screamed at me virulently out of the window of his pickup truck and called me a F***ing C***. It was horrifying, scary, and demoralizing.

Why? Of course, there is no actual justification for this, but it’s because I’m a woman on a bicycle who dared to take up a minuscule amount of space on the road.

I am allowed on the road.

If I may be honest, it’s always men in pickup trucks. Last week, I cycled into a median style turning lane to — geez, I don’t know, turn? — No one was in that lane with me, and I was about to turn left, when a man in a pick up truck drove by on the right side of the road and honked his horn angrily a bunch of times because I guess I’m just a dumb broad who is biking in the middle of the street for no reason.

But yesterday was much worse. I was at a stoplight. There were two cars ahead of me, then me, and then traffic behind me. Whenever I can be in a bike lane, that’s where I am, but once more, let me assert that I am allowed on the road. I am quite literally following the rules of traffic. I am not supposed to be on the sidewalk. I am supposed to be on the road.

The light turned green, and I biked right behind the cars ahead of me. I kept up with them at this point because they were only starting to speed up, and there was a bike lane 30 feet ahead of me. That’s precisely where I was headed. No one was stalled by me. Though again, if they were, that is my right. I am allowed on the road.

I was on the right side of the lane so anyone could pass me. To share how much I inconvenienced no one, this man and others did pass me. They had space to do it.

And that’s when he drove by and screamed, “YOU’RE SLOWING DOWN TRAFFIC, YOU F***ING C***!!!!”

It took my breath away.

I spent the next 15 minutes so nervous of being on the road, that I was biking slightly off of the road in areas of rocks, debris, and gravel. This is dangerous, of course, because this is exactly the kind of situation where someone can spin out, fall, and maybe tumble into traffic. “What’s more dangerous,” I wondered. “This? Or angry, violent men in trucks?” I had to do that risk assessment.

Eventually, I took my space on the road again, and now I was angry.

I am allowed on the road.

We all know that if I was a man wearing cycling gear, no one would have yelled at me like that. I was wearing a helmet but also a sundress. Apparently, that makes me a target for misogyny. Just for being. Just being who I am.

For the rest of that ride, I zoomed home safely, fuming, and then thought of it as an analogy too.

I am allowed on the road.

I know some lovely, knock-it-out the ballpark human beings, including many cherished men in my life. And.. there have been eras, too, where I was denied to have needs, when I was scapegoated, when I was targeted, when I was cast out, when I was made to be a symbolic stand-in so other people could reenact their unresolved traumas. And damn it — let me now be the one to curse — I am allowed to take up space. I am allowed on the road. I am a person. I am not just a role for people to channel vitriol and unresolved emotions. That has happened to me too many times.

And it has happened to many others, countless times. Many women, of course. Sometimes, men. Certainly, many — and I would actually say, all — people who carry identities far more marginalized than mine.

I am allowed on the road. So are we all. Buckle up, do the work of learning how to regulate your own emotions, and stop yelling at us.

—Renee Roederer

Grow Like Joshua Trees

Posted on by gracesmuggler

Three images of Joshua trees. Public domain.

I love how Joshua trees grow.

More than a decade ago, I visited Joshua Tree National Park, and I found myself laughing at all the unique shapes of the branches. While driving through the park, I noticed that some Joshua trees grew their branches upward and outward, just like other kinds of trees. But some grew all their branches downward, and others looked totally windswept with all their branches to one side. Most grew in every single direction at once, resembling something akin to Medusa’s hair. This is a pretty apt analogy, because what looks like a single branch (more about that in a moment) makes jutted twists and turns itself, moving in variety of directions.

I wondered,

If all of these trees have the same basic genetic material, and are in the same environment, how could they possibly be shaped so differently?

It turns out that Joshua trees grow uniquely. When a tree is young, it grows upward for a number for many years (this is what eventually looks like the trunk and base) then right on top, on its own time, it will blossom. Once that blossom falls off, a branch begins to grow, and it will jut off in any particular direction. Then that branch will grow for some time as well, and eventually, it will blossom. Once that blossom falls, a new, jutting branch emerges, growing in its own direction. And on and on and on…

Joshua trees are slow growing, and the average lifespan is 500 years. Some are 1,000 years old! And all of those “branches,” are made of the exact same material of the trunk. Joshua trees are growing and expanding in every direction, and to make an analogy, if we think of a trunk as what is foundational, every single branch of that tree is well… foundational.

This is where I’m going with my title: Grow like Joshua trees.

Life has twists and bends too. Except that sounds trite in comparison to how it can really go. There are juts and jolts — sudden losses; sudden gifts; sudden, unexpected meaning; sudden, emerging becoming. And there are times when we find ourselves growing in a variety directions at once with many possibilities emerging.

If all things can be foundational, all things can be pivotal.
If all things can invite us to the center, all things can create possibilities.

And all things can impact the whole. Nothing is lost. Life is unfolding in variety of directions.

We can grow with that in mind.

—Renee Roederer

Signs

Posted on by gracesmuggler
Two people holding hands. They’ve written “You are” and “not alone” on their hands. Public domain.


I was biking through a neighborhood, when I saw a yard sign. In all caps, it says,

YOU ARE NOT ALONE

Later, when returning to my house, I passed the yard sign again. The other side says,

YOU CAN DO IT

Those are simple statements of encouragement, but I imagine as people have passed them in cars, on bikes, and on foot, they’ve spoken into a lot of particular, complex situations. The person who put the sign out will never know those particular stories, but that person has cast encouragement in a lot of important places.

—Renee Roederer

Dahlia Dottie

Posted on by gracesmuggler
A photo of me, holding a yellow dahlia.

I’d love to tell you about the sweetest part of yesterday.

Though she isn’t pictured, I want to tell you about Dahlia Dottie. That’s not her real name, but hers is alliterative in the same way.

I was riding my bike today through my local park, and I stopped where these gorgeous dahlias were. Dottie was there, and she told me that her sister is the gardener of these beautiful flowers. I asked if I could take a few photos of them.

Then she asked, “Can I take a photo of you with them?”

“Sure,” I said. I thought it was going to be one photo.

And what followed was a ten minute photo shoot of poses she wanted me to take with the flowers. I think I have 14 pictures of me on my phone with these dahlias.

“Look over your shoulder like this.”

“Ooh, let’s get one with your bike.”

“Let’s get rid of that yellow flower for a second. Get in close to these red ones. Wouldn’t that be a great photo to send at Christmas?”

Obviously, I expected none of this, and the whole interaction was so delightful. I’m only posting a few pictures from my Dahlia photo shoot, but I’m really grateful for the ways Dahlia Dottie uplifted my day.