All bodies are different; all bodies have their own individual way of adapting and reacting to the miles and climbs we take them on. As a 10 year long cyclists, I don’t have a flat stomach, 5 percent body fat, or lanky arms. My body is quite squishy and asymmetrical. I’ve got the muffin top, the love handles, the bottom, the cellulite and I love it all. The subject of body image and cycling came to my attention when a few friends shared with me that their male cycle club mates felt the need to criticize their weight. That cycling brands have little to no understanding of the diversity of female body types and the most damning, that cycling as a sport deliberately alienates women’s bodies.
While cycling has been liberating for women, too often it has been our oppressor, from “bicycle face” scare, bike fashion, unfounded fears over the damage it could cause to a woman’s reproductive organs, to Irans ban on women’s participation in cycling. We experience it all the time, from the gender gap in cycling, the lack of representation, lack of fitting cycling kit, to street harassment – our bodies constantly face scrutiny and violence in public spaces when we claim our space.
In elite cycling, female athletes tell us that they have been subjected to derogatory comments from male coaches about their bodies. The latest example is, the three former Health Mate Ladies riders who separately filed complaints against Van Gansen. Other former pro cycling athletes reveal that they have struggled with weight and eating disorders to reach performance goals.
In sport, where athletes come in extraordinary shapes and sizes, my mind boggles over how even cycling culture can be abusive, conservative, and traditionalist with the white thin male body as the standard of what cyclists look like.
As women, engaging in sport is one of our greatest escapes from the feed about what our bodies look like. If we embrace our bodies relationship with our bikes, we won’t have this body dysmorphia crisis. There won’t be a “normal” woman’s body or a limit of sizes for women’s cycling kit – just a life-affirming array of every type of female body under the sun – breasts of all shapes and sizes, curvy or slim hips, broad or tiny shoulders, little bottoms or powerful asses, willowy legs or thick luscious thighs that pedal for miles, and soft bellies that comfort our need for nourishment or six-pack squares that pull us up on climbs.
When we focus on our bodies performance [and our responses to it] during our rides, we start to emphasis how we feel rather than how we look.
Cycling – in its truest form – is as much about women taking back control of their own bodies as any other feminist act it has claimed. As women are told that being physically active is all about hard work, about the perfect beach body, losing the baby fat to “get your body back”. We are not told we might have fun climbing hills, beating our best record, or sprinting through quiet streets. No wonder we turn young girls off sport at a certain point between teenage years and adulthood. We fail to share with them that the truly wonderful things about the benefits of sport and that there is no single acceptable body type to participate.
When our bodies are in action – powerful, sweaty, determined, strong – we see ourselves in a different light, one very rarely depicted in the mainstream media. When I got into road cycling, I didn’t take photos of myself cycling out of my own insecurity that I didn’t look like a cyclist, with strong muscular legs and whispy frame. I’m rather tiny, pudgy in the middle, soft in places, and strong where it counts. I’m a climber at best, descender at worst, my little legs will only allow me to pedal so fast but I’m capable. I’ve had two terrible crashes, no broken bones, but got back on. And what is incredible about the experience of viewing myself this way is the story encapsulating everything I want young women to aspire – inspirational, focused, unstoppable.
Once we accept that we don’t need to look a certain way, we can start to share our euphoria about our rides rather than a perfectly curated post ride shot as we critically edit into our phones and Instagram feeds. Maybe we don’t even need to Instagram every moment of our lives for others to judge. Maybe cycling can be something we do for ourselves. No Strava, no power meter, no rules, no doing it for the gram. Because cycling as a physical activity should be something integral to our well being, not how many pounds we need shave off our thighs to look like a cyclist.
We need to reclaim cycling or any sport as a physical feminist act for women. It needs to become part of our world of self care, body positivity, social activism in our bodies are represented, not a borrowed space where our bodies are allowed to occasionally intrude. We need to celebrate the real strength of diverse bodies and their ability to take us places we never imagined. By finding our strengths, we can yield it for greater representation and self acceptance.