My Bike Ride Today Exemplified What It’s Like to Be a Woman

Photo by Adrian Williams on Unsplash

I felt the unseasonably cool breeze against my skin as I reluctantly took in the aroma of the Wisconsin River — an unsavory mixture of refuse, pollution, and other less-than-appealing substances. I glanced down at my arms as I could hear my rhythmic breathing, noticing a sheen in the sunlight, a mixture of my own sweat and the thick layer of SPF 50 I applied before I left home. I was headed westward, towards the suburbs.

There’s a cluster of old buildings past the baseball stadium that seems trapped in time and I always wonder what the buildings are for though part of me doesn’t want to know because the mystery is part of the appeal. I like coming up with stories for what memories the cream city brick contains within its four walls.

I passed through stretches of pathway shaded by trees and lined with thick hedgerows of weeds. I savor this scent for how deep and earthy it is even though I know it will lead to profuse sneezing and watery eyes.

As I came to a stretch of pathway that opens into a field revealing the neighborhood beyond, I noticed six teenage boys stopped by the curb on their bikes.

A few of them were actively taking their shirts off and the one closest to me locked eyes on my form. I didn’t make eye contact with him from behind my sunglasses and just focused on the pavement ahead of me, yet I could feel his eyes follow me the whole time I was biking by. As I was about to travel out of eyeshot I looked right at him and saw him yell some words at me. I’m not naive enough to think it was a simple, “Lovely summer day isn’t it?!”

This is what happened outside of my body.

Inside my body, I felt my shoulder muscles tense up. Though I was on my bike, I felt my quads activate as if ready to run. The hair on my arms bristled and I became acutely aware of everything around me. My breath became shallow and I felt my chest tighten.

I biked faster, away from the neighborhood boys and a few thoughts ran through my head.

I have to bike back that way to get home.

There’s six of them and one of me.

I’m already somewhat fatigued as this is the first time I’ve biked in a few months.

Is there action planned behind whatever that boy said to me or is it just empty harassment?

Instead of enjoying my bike ride, I was planning my escape.

This is the reality of being a woman.

You may look at this situation and think they are just teenagers and probably out enjoying the summer weather just like you, Caitlin. You’re right. Maybe they are.

However, growing up as a woman you learn through the stories of others to not leave these situations to chance. You hear of the women who ignored their gut and what befell them. You yourself likely experienced the perils of ignoring the screams of your own body.

Our bodies become finely tuned to danger and at 31 years of age, I know not to ignore my body anymore.

My gut told me I should not trust the intentions of these teenagers.

I biked another 15 or so minutes, barely seeing another soul on the path and I concocted a plan. I would stop on the trail and wait for a string of bikers headed back in the direction of my home and I would follow them home. As I saw a man in a green t-shirt and sunglasses headed my way on his bike, I turned my bike around and prepared to get back on the pathway.

I peddled behind him, keeping a reasonable distance and I saw him look back at me periodically. Did he know I was following him? Did he know why?

I felt a small pang of guilt that perhaps I was making this man uncomfortable in my efforts to alleviate my own discomfort, but I reminded myself men and women live in different worlds; most men I know would not notice my presence behind them.

In case he was one that had, I kept a reasonable distance so as to not cause him discomfort.

I was worried about his discomfort.

Fortunately for me, he was traveling at a pace slightly slower than my ability level and I was able to follow him easily. A lot of thoughts popped into my head as I headed back home, sweaty and fatigued from not just my bike ride, but my activated nervous system.

I thought about my strength. I thought about how I used to be embarrassed by how muscular my thighs are when I was younger. I would do everything to position myself to conceal them, crossing my legs, making micro-adjustments based on where a love interest was in the room, so he saw me and not my thighs. I would wear dark jeans only to make my legs look thinner. I wouldn’t wear shorts because they revealed too much of my thighs.

I thought about my thighs and how they made me faster on foot than all the boys in my 5th-grade class. I thought about how I can power myself up hills on my bike because of my thighs. I thought about how my thighs might even help me to win a race against six teenage boys.

I thought about my nervous system and how much I’ve hated my anxiety throughout the years, but how it’s made me quick to react.

I don’t miss much when I’m on high alert.

I catch things in midair, I avert crises. I sense things before they even happen.

Like the time a month ago when I was hiking along a pathway with my boyfriend and felt strong intuition that a rogue off-leash dog would soon cross our path. Less than five minutes later, a spaniel came tearing down the pathway and through the woods right next to us, no owner in sight.

I thought about how I’ve rehearsed these moments in my head a million times, how I excel at preparedness. I have plans to use my decades of competitive soccer to take somebody out by the kneecap. I have plans to dig at the eyes because I’m not squeamish and I will fight. I have plans to act bizarre to discourage any sexual actions against my person.

I thought about how this all matters and are all resources for me, but I am still on this pathway, following a man home because we live in a society where a man is considered protection.

Think about it.

What do you hear women say over and over even if it’s completely false if they are being harassed in public by a man or group of men?

“I have a boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend is on his way and should be here soon.”

It doesn’t matter how strong she is, how much resolve, how much she will fight tooth and nail. A man or the presence of a man is considered protective.

You know what? I’m not going to feel guilty about using a man on his bike, probably commuting home from work, to protect me from further harassment or a potential assault. Women are not only resilient in the face of the traumas they experience, but they are resourceful.

As my anonymous protector and I rounded a bend in the path, I saw them. They were up ahead, a group of boys weaving in and out of each other on the pathway, a few of them shirtless. I tightened up but reminded myself I was following built-in protection. As we got closer, I watched as one of the boys wiped out on the pathway and the whole group came to a stop.

I watched as the man in front of me biked right by them.

Here’s another reality about women: we are conditioned to be people-pleasing. I am very aware of this tendency in myself and actively try to counteract it, but the thoughts are still there.

As I neared the boys and saw the fallen one clutch his ankle, I thought maybe I should stop. I felt empathy seeping in. With my nursing background, I could easily asses what ails him…

No.

I biked by too. He didn’t fall on his head and he certainly was hemorrhaging. He was surrounded by five of his friends. His friends who stared me down and yelled stuff I’m glad I didn’t hear.

If they were capable of harassing me, they were capable of helping their friend out and I certainly didn’t need to overextend myself for them.

As I biked up another hill and further away from the boys, I stopped to drink some water and noticed how hard I was breathing. I watched the man in the green get further and further away from me and I silently thanked him for his service.

You may say I’m paranoid and maybe the boys were simply being boys, but I’m done with that sentiment.

Excusing problematic behavior as a function of gender provides a weak excuse for toxic behavior and spreads complicity throughout social circles, industries, universities.

I’m also not going to engage in the dialogues that blame women no matter what they do. If I hadn’t been cautious and something had happened, somebody would have scolded me for not being aware of my surroundings.

The fact that I was aware, created a plan, and got myself safely home is not something I will apologize for.

I want the world to be different for women. I want us to be able to leave our homes without thinking about whether we will be safe or whether somebody will use an opportunity to take advantage of us, but I’m not naive enough to think that is our reality right now.

I’m not going to apologize for using my resources, for considering trust something to be earned, and I’m certainly not apologizing for wearing skin-tight bike shorts on my ride today. I have the right to wear whatever I damn please when I’m working out.

I have the right to sunshine on my skin, just like those teenage boys.

I hope the next time I go on a bike ride isn’t such an adventure, but until men can empathize with what it means to occupy a female body, to consider your safety when you leave the house, to use the presence of a man to protect yourself, we can’t create change.

What I hope for is that one of the boys in six felt uncomfortable with how his friends were behaving. I hope he spoke up and said something after I passed by. I hope he stops hanging out with them if he continues to observe problematic behavior.

Men need to lead by example in their own lives and make it clear to their peers what behavior is acceptable and what behavior is not acceptable.

They can do this by speaking up. They can do this by choosing their company wisely.

There’s been silence for far too long and these systems benefit from silence. Women cannot be disenfranchised if they are empowered and vocal and you don’t have to look far to find examples of men attempting to stifle the voices of women.

If me breaking my silence helps in any way, I will keep telling these stories. I will continue to break my silence.

Now is the time to be heard.