It was just a short ride, the usual kilometer from my place to my sister’s on my Scooty Pep+. We’ve done this route countless times. But this time, her reaction was different. “Why are you riding like a lunatic?” she exclaimed, her voice laced with concern and a hint of annoyance. “I’m not in a rush, and frankly, I’d prefer to arrive alive. Please, just ride slowly. I really dislike people who drive like this.”
Barely had 30 seconds passed, and while still moving, I casually took off my helmet and placed it at my feet. This action was met with more colorful language. “This is exactly how accidents happen! Keep performing these stunts while riding, and you’ll end up crashing into a tree!”
That’s when it hit me. I had unconsciously started riding like ‘a boy’.
For the past decade, Bangalore’s roads have been my playground. From Malleswaram to Bannerghatta Road, I’ve navigated every nook and cranny of this city on my trusty 85cc bike. I’ve become adept at weaving through the chaotic traffic, mastering the art of urban riding. And all this, remarkably, without a single accident. (Knock on wood!)
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A woman confidently riding her Scooty Pep+ through city streets, showcasing everyday urban mobility for women.
Over the years, I’ve faced the stereotypical jeers – “women can’t ride”. Initially, it fueled anger, but eventually, observing some hesitant female drivers, I found myself momentarily agreeing with the stereotype. But that was a fleeting thought.
Now, I’ve reached a point of complete indifference to such opinions. People on the road see me, a girl riding a bike, and the prejudiced thought bubble appears above their heads: “Oh, look, a girl riding. She’s bound to do something silly.” It’s as if my gender precedes my actions, predisposing them to be judged as ‘ridiculous’. In a twisted way, this perception became my license. If they’re going to judge me anyway, why not ride exactly how I want? Whether it’s cruising slowly in the right lane or confidently zipping past vehicles, cutting through traffic – hey, I’m just a girl, riding like a ‘lunatic’, right?
However, despite this rebellious thought, I’m not one to disregard traffic rules. So, in reality, my ‘lunatic’ riding mostly translates to efficient overtaking. In slow or fast traffic, I smoothly maneuver from right to left, passing trucks, cars, and buses alike. I ride with the same assertive confidence as those boys lounging on the back of their Dios or Activas, legs stretched out, owning the road.
There’s an undeniable sense of liberation in riding this way, in defying the stereotype. Being told “You ride like a boy!” is, to me, a compliment. This isn’t the first time I’ve received this gendered praise. Back in college, my football coach once exclaimed, “You play football like a boy!” I was ecstatic. So much so, that I documented his compliment in my diary that very day.
It’s important to clarify, I’m not implying that girls are inherently bad at riding or playing football. I’ve witnessed incredibly talented female footballers and seen videos of girls pulling off amazing bike stunts. But these women are, statistically speaking, less common. And I’m sure many women who have been riding in India for years can relate to this experience of navigating societal expectations.
The internal debate constantly revolves around whether to be flattered by the ‘like a guy’ comparison or to be offended by the inherent sexism. Truthfully, it depends on the context of the compliment. If a man is told he multi-tasks ‘like a girl’, that should be a compliment, recognizing efficiency and skill. Conversely, if someone told me I carry myself ‘like a guy’, I’d be disheartened, as it touches on societal expectations of femininity.
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A woman exudes confidence and style while posing with a classic RX-100 motorcycle, challenging traditional gender roles in bike culture.
Personally, I embrace the ‘ride like a guy’ compliment when it comes to biking skills. Embracing this skill, I’ve now upgraded to an RX-100, my dad’s latest acquisition. ‘Newest’ is relative, of course. This bike has likely had more owners than I’ve had birthdays. My dad is a connoisseur of second, third, even fifth-hand treasures. He rejuvenates them, repairs, repaints, and modifies them until they’re practically reborn.
And the RX-100? It took me a mere 90 seconds to learn to ride it. It’s incredibly straightforward! Even my friend Nisha mastered riding a Bullet in just 30 seconds!
Once I got the hang of it, the question that immediately sprung to mind was: why don’t more girls ride motorbikes? Seriously, why not?
It’s incredibly liberating. The krranng of the kick-start, the smooth glide into third gear, the silent satisfaction of knowing you can outride those guys on their beat-up bikes – it’s an empowering feeling.
I genuinely believe more girls should start riding like ‘guys’ and, importantly, start riding motorcycles. Let’s be revolutionary, to the point where, in future generations, men will be complimented by being told they ride ‘like women’. (Actually, imagine someone saying, “Dude, you ride like Swathi,” – that’s already a high compliment! Haha!) I hope to see a surge in girls taking that step, mastering this seemingly male-dominated skill.
Nothing rivals the feeling of independence and sheer awesomeness that comes with riding a bike confidently. Trust me on this.
So, come on girls! It’s time to be badass and own the road!
