I wasn’t going to write about this, but after reading and participating in a thread on Let’s Go Ride A Bike about cycling and self-esteem, I decided that maybe it was time for me to talk about this in a slightly more open forum than my Twitter feed.

Last Thursday night as I was walking my bike to the subway from my office, someone in a car drove by me and yelled “Fatty, you need to ride your bike more!” I couldn’t understand what would make someone direct such a random, hateful act toward someone who was minding her own business, who hadn’t cut them off in traffic or was in any way rude to them. It felt like an assault, it felt like violence, and it took every ounce of my composure not to burst into tears while I was on the subway. I saved my crying for the bike ride home.

I was embarrassed. I was hurt. I felt ashamed and I felt like I didn’t deserve to ride a bike because I’m fat. I thought that no matter what I did, I would always be “the fat chick” and therefore not deserving of respect or dignity. For a few hours (and well into the next morning as I got dressed for work) I thought I’d never ride my bike again because I didn’t think I could take another assault.

A few friends provided some much needed perspective on Friendfeed, but it was this comment from Edythe that made me suck it up and start riding again:

(I)t came from a dim and clouded mind. someone who looked at a beautiful woman and could see only that the shape of her body somehow threatened them, somehow reminded them of their own negative programming and their own bad feelings about themselves. The only way to make this negativity not at odds with themselves–and therefore comfortable–was to contribute to it.

fat girl chic

I’m writing about this now because the flip side of this coin are the cyclists who see fit to offer words of encouragement as they pedal past. Sure, they mean well, and I know their hearts are in the right place, but at the same time, it is no less obtrusive and unwanted a commentary on my physical being than someone yelling “fat ass!” at me when they see me on the street. By telling me “You’re doing a great thing!” or even a simple “Keep it up!” you’re essentially drawing attention to my size and making assumptions about me based on what you see. You assume that I’m riding a bike because I want to lose weight, not because I want to save money on commuting, or because it’s easier (and less oppressive) than taking transit, or just because it’s fun. You see a fat person and assume that I’ve decided to Take Charge Of My Life ™, and you want to reward me for doing something that, in your eyes, will move me closer to a more normalized and aesthetically appealing appearance.

Pardon me when I say this, and I mean it with all the warmth and affection in my heart, but honey — Nobody Asked You.

I don’t have to justify my life choices or the size of my rear end to you. I don’t owe you an explanation for why, after years of commuting by car and motor scooter, I’ve decided to take my bike to work now and again. I don’t have to apologize for being fat, and I don’t have to listen to you tell me how dangerous it is to ride in heels, or how impractical it is to ride in a skirt.

Who I am, what I look like, and the choices I make for me are none of your concern. The next time you feel compelled to say something nasty or to offer patronizing words of concern/cheer to a fat cyclist, take a moment and repeat to yourself “Nobody asked me. It’s none of my business.”

After my drive-by incident, I felt all of the joy I’d expressed in this post drain from my body. I struggled to remind myself of something positive that had happened to me while riding but I couldn’t see past my own self-loathing to get there. As I was falling asleep that night, I remembered that on my way to work that same morning a guy pulled up next to me at a traffic light. I’ve seen the “Whoa! Fat girl on a bike!” look on enough faces to know it when I see it, so I wasn’t surprised to see it on the face of the cyclist as he pulled alongside me. What happened next caught me off guard.

As we waited for the light, he pulled up level with my bike, made eye contact, offered a genuine, warm smile and said “Hey, where’d you get that helmet? It’s really cool!” I was so surprised that I could barely stammer out an answer as we pedalled through the intersection after the light changed. If you must say something to a fat cyclist as they ride past, try to make it complimentary, and no different than any other small talk you might make with your fellow commuters as you wait for the light to change. We might be a little heavier in the seat, and our bikes might not be as fast as yours, but like you, all we want to do is to get from point A to point B as efficiently (and stylishly, in some cases) as we can.

I’ve learned that when it comes to physical challenges, my own self-doubt is often the greatest source of motivation. Let me explain.

For the last few months or so, I’ve been obsessed with the whole cycle chic subculture. If you’re not familiar with the concept, the Cycle Chic Manifesto is an excellent primer.

I have this vision of these lissome, willowy women wearing flowy dresses, high heels, and elegantly made-up faces astride sturdy, dutch bikes pedalling through the city. I so wanted to be one of those women, but I’m a large, ungainly girl who, despite the makeup, is mostly frumpy and inelegant. I’m not some waifish mystic pixie on a Batavus: I’m a slow fat girl on an inexpensive Trek bike. I am not the stuff my cycling dreams are made of, and I thought I never would be.

I studied cycle chic photographs and websites with a fervor that bordered on obsession. Many nights passed in a daze as I flipped from blog to blog, soaking up the culture, living life vicariously through this cycling sisterhood. Yet no matter how much I learned, no matter how many of these women said they just decided to start riding, I didn’t think that I could ever be one of those women.

Until today.

Tuesday dawned sunny and bright with scarcely a cloud in the sky. I knew it would be a perfect day for cycling, but the idea of putting on my daily librarian-cum-bike commuter uniform of cardigan, nice-ish jeans, and Mary Janes had no appeal. Instead I reached for a form-fitting flirty purple dress and bright orange high heels. I applied my makeup with a light but expert hand. I donned a bright orange jacket, my trusty daisy-covered helmet, and wheeled my bike up the basement stairs out onto the street.

The wind caught the hem of my dress as I sped downhill, but I didn’t care. The breeze felt like a chilly kiss on my bare knees, and the sensation made me sit a little straighter on my bike seat. My head was high, my chin pointed defiantly forward as I pushed up and coasted down hills on my way into the office.

A few strangers smiled at me as I passed, and I smiled in return. Maybe it was the incongruous sight of a rather large black woman who dared to wear a purple dress while she rode a bike around town that made them give me a second look, but whatever the reason I found that I didn’t really care why they were looking at me. I felt great, I felt alive, and most importantly, I felt beautiful.

Photo by letsgorideabike – http://flic.kr/p/7ZJWZH

Earlier this morning, I saw a tweet from Jennifer (@typealibrarian) where she announced the new logo for her library’s Twitter page. What I saw there made me smile.

If you’re not a library type, you might not see anything all that unusual about this page, but as a public librarian, seeing a library that chooses to put an actual name and a face to their public library is — to my mind — a very rare occurrence indeed. By putting a name and a face to the library as a whole, the library is saying to the community that they are interested in building a more personal relationship with the community they serve.

Furthermore, in making this move, they’ve introduced a level of accountability to the exchanges they make with their (online) patrons. Once you attach a name and a face to your organization, you provide your public with an easily-identifiable channel for interaction. It’s a customer service tactic that we’ve seen from companies before, take Zappos for example, but it’s not something we typically do in public libraries. Academic libraries seem to be more open when it comes to attaching names/faces to library services.

Even at my own library, which is considered a leader in social media among City of Vancouver divisions, we use a generic all-in-one account for Twitter. We have several people who post on the library’s behalf, and we made the decision that people it was more important for people to connect to the organization than to any one individual. But seeing what the Columbus Metropolitan library is doing is making me rethink that strategy.

It is important for libraries to make a connection to the communities they serve; I don’t think anyone can safely argue against that position in this day and age. But being out in front of the public, being willing to give up some degree of privacy in exchange for helping people build a more personal connection with the library as a whole seems to me to be a worthwhile trade.

Well done, Columbus Metropolitan Library.

From Dave Burrows, someone who follows MPOW on Twitter, comes this (awesome) idea about how libraries might use Foursquare, a location-based social network:

I did think of a way the Vancouver Public Library could encourage people to check in a little more than they already do (and thus, hopefully, be reading a book or two more than they normally do).

It’s simple and easy.

Throw up a sign/whiteboard somewhere in the branches that says, for example, “The Mayor of the Central Branch, Dave B., recommends The World According to Garp by John Irving”

Now obviously it could get a little tiring if they had to change these every time someone new became Mayor which is why I would suggest setting a cut-off time. Whoever is mayor as of closing on Sunday night would have their recommendation up for the week.

I have to say I absolutely love this idea, and it’s one I’ve been thinking about quite a bit. I think we’re doing an OK job with Twitter, but beyond that I don’t feel as if we’re really connecting with library patrons on most of our social networking services. Sure, they get our updates, and we occasionally reply back in 140 characters or less, but honestly, there’s really no incentive for people to keep promoting the library on our behalf (unless they’re just library fans and want to be thought of as well-read).

But we – meaning the powers that be and myself – are talking about this now, and are taking a serious look at possibly putting together an incentive for Foursquare users. I can’t say exactly what, when, or if we’ll be able to put an incentive in place, but watch this space. As soon as I know something, you’ll be the first to know.