Last year I pushed a campaign for A CERTAIN GRAVEL CYCLING EVENT to change its event name that was an anti-indigeneous slur. While it took months of organizing to successfully get this certain event to change its name, thanks to 2020’s racial uprising, I have noticed their still exists the erasure of the labor of Indigineous women and femme voices which emphasizes why disrupting ongoing settler colonialism in the outdoor/cycling industry is critical to dismantling systems of oppression and the industry.
This last year we’ve seen many conversations around land acknowledgements and learned that we should pin the names of the first stewards of the lands we recreate through on social media. That our events should acknowledge them too, that we should acknowledge our presence on Native lands as either settlers, descendants of enslaved Africans, or guests on tribal lands than our own.
Land acknowledgements have become so prevalent in the outdoor advocate/influencer world. Some of these land acknowledgements are even accompanied through sponsored content and media, that it’s found a way to profit off of Stolen Land. The thing about recreating and riding on Turtle Island, is that it’s all stolen land that no matter how you position it, we still uphold colonialism. And while land acknowledgements are one way of showing your solidarity with Indigineous folks, like Black Squares or rainbow Flags… Land Acknowledgement needs to go further. Most outdoor/cycling advocates, athletes, influencers and city planners must come to terms that if the cycling/ outdoor/ planning community wants to advocate for the protection of so called “public lands”, parks, or bike lanes, then they must first recognize that those structures benefit from the forced removal and colonization of Indigenous peoples and lands by the United States government.
Often cycling and outdoor narratives speak about exploration or urban pioneering, but in truth, there has never been a road, trail, or frontier to explore or discover. Narratives about the land or cities are often in language that reinforces neocolonial acts of bike travel through Indigenous erasure, dominance, and exploitation through rugged individualism. Overcoming fears and finding oneself on stolen land where Indigenous identity is tied to but denied in the name of “preservation”, is colonial individualism at it’s finest. Often I wish these writings would focus on the spiritual and cultural significance of the land to the Indigenous communities living there, not on the recreation of white people and emphasizing rugged individualism.
What I’ve learned through then Name The Change campaign is that the outdoor/cycling community needs to listen to Native people talk about the history of their lands, their relationship to those lands, and hear their thoughts on their own solutions towards the recreation and stewardship of those lands. Instead of celebrating the colonial history of trails and “exploring” them to clearcut forests or sacred sites to “send it”, we should spend time learning about the history and culture of Native American communities that recreation and bike lanes extraction benefits from. Furthermore, take the time to learn which tribes are hosting you on their land, what sites are sacred regardless of whether or not they are protected as national monuments, and learn how you can participate in Land Back movements.
In addition, we’ve seen how outdoor consumers are applauding companies and brands launching campaigns that tout diversity, yet fail to build awareness of social and cultural contexts that acknowledge historical trauma of Black and Indigeneous exclusion. Their language and messaging fails to acknowledge the ongoing genocide in which they directly contribute and profit from. Corporations who utilize woke washing tactics to make a profit must be put into question. This doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate the money they dish for the causes that matter, but this also doesn’t mean that we ignore that they are making billions off of products made by low wage labor and resource extraction.
Of course we want protected bike lanes or protected ‘wilderness’ areas but historically, we’ve seen how this means more wealthy and healthy people buying more bike/outdoor gear, that requires land extraction for parking, trails, and gentrification. Yes, their are companies that are involved in protecting sacred lands, but their actions are essentially rooted in a settler-colonial relationship with the land. Conserving land for recreational use is settler-colonial conservation. If actions are not taken to center Indigenous voices, these movements for diversity, equity, and inclusion serve no purpose except to center the privilege and entitlement of settlers.
And I personally struggle with this because while I love seeing diversity in media, I find myself struggling with the connection between tokenization and assimilation, and being perceived through the colonial gaze. Of talking about and doing things on The Land that is for the privileged and entitled. In promoting and doing the same things that settlers have been doing on Stolen Lands to gain clout and make profits through sponsored ads and IG likes. Land my relatives and other Indigenous peoples have been forced off of.
So this is my call to disrupt colonialism in narratives in the outdoor/cycling advocacy community and industry, and their empty land acknowledgments — especially when profiting from using Native homelands in events, ads, films, and sponsored posts. I want to see outdoor advocates and media adding a “Voluntary Land Tax” donation into their contracts and into their pinned land acknowledgments. I want to hear Indigenous voices centered and paid for their work, not narratives coopted by settlers. I want us to adopt a different language when talking about The Land and stand in solidarity with Land Defenders who are on the frontlines of climate activism. I’m done with advocates and the industry when really ya’ll need to join us to protect the forest, water, and lands. Our existence on Mother Earth cannot endure erasure from the narratives about Our Lands anymore.
Name the Change is as much about disrupting colonialism in anti-Native slurs as much as it is also about recreation to rematriation. Land acknowledgments and representation are not enough.
So if you’re an outdoor influencer or bike advocate, it’s time to start questioning your privilege and position in upholding a system in which your access to the outdoors and industry was built upon. Make it a point in your work to give back to the First Peoples of the land that you’re creating content and profiting off of. Stop treating Our Lands like your playgrounds, reparations are now.