When I first started coming to Provence (over 20 years ago now), I was somewhat of an anomaly. There were very few women cyclists around, and if there were any, they were always riding alongside a man. A woman solo on a bike provoked all kinds of reactions from the male cyclists. From mansplaining what was wrong with my bike set-up, to unsolicited conversations, to inviting themselves to ride with me, or suggesting I join them for a drink. Sometimes it was fine, but often it was annoying and even a bit frightening. More often than not, I’d been a more seasoned cyclist than most of the men I’d encountered, given that I was racing over a quarter century ago, but they still assumed I must not know what I was doing.
But how times have changed, and now I see so many women out on bikes here. About 50 percent of the time, they’ve been alone. The occasional older one like me, but mostly young, fit, athletic women. I love it, it gives me so much joy to see. I was thinking about what pleased me about it, and it boils down to something pretty important: being a strong, physically fit woman is an act of defiance, it’s tenacious, and an act of resistance against the patriarchy.
It is the antithesis of the buxom, soft, barefoot, and pregnant woman in need of a man to keep the wolves at bay (but exactly who are these wolves?). A powerful woman stands on her own and doesn’t require saving. And she’s very, very hard to control. The patriarchy doesn’t like that one bit.
When I see a beautifully athletic woman, I have nothing but admiration for her, for what she’s achieved, usually despite hundreds of hurdles. The world isn’t set up to encourage or give women space to become powerful, so we simply have to fight tooth and nail to take it.
To all the athletic, strong, intelligent, thoughtful, hilarious, generous women out there, brava. Take up every bit of space you deserve.
