Pink

My first motorcycle jacket was pink. At the time, there wasn’t much else to choice from and I like pink anyway.

In 2016, I was 27 years old and decided to go on a solo motorcycle trip across the United States and Canada, basically until money ran out. It took my three and half months to finally come back home. The jacket I wore during that trip was pink. I learned a few things about wearing pink as a motorcyclist.

When I set off on that adventure, I was relatively new to motorcycling, alone at least. Everything I had learned up to that point was either alongside a seasoned rider or in close proximity to one (across town). But this time, I was going to be thousands of miles away from all that. A lot was learned about travel, solo travel, motorcycling, people, and myself on that trip. This is a small snippet of my experience in the pink jacket.

At first I didn’t know any better because I had nothing to compare it against. My pink jacket influenced the way I was perceived. It wasn’t until I was gifted a red jacket that I began to notice the change. All the while, I travelled with both jackets because I didn’t want to toss the pink one so I would go back and forth depending on weather. Then depending on how I wanted others to respond to me.

The first thing I noticed was the way drivers treated me. It wasn’t util the red jacket that the temperament seemed to shift for other road users. It seemed as though they were a little more assertive. By coincidence I changed back into the pink jacket and drivers were much more courteous. Was it because I was signaling that I was a girl/woman? It was as if drivers were exercising their good manners while I adorned the pink jacket. The red jacket, all bets were off. Signaling my gender wasn’t as clear and so I suppose I was automatically labeled “dude.” Again, my hair was short then and hid under my helmet. Other than my small size, under all my gear there was no clear distinguishing feature.

At gas stops it was easier to avoid the chit-chatters in the red jackets. It put one more layer between me and the questions about where I was going, where I’d been, and where my boyfriend or husband was? The pink jacket was like a beacon! A signal to others as if to say “come on over, I don’t care if you talk with me.” When in fact I cared a lot. It didn’t take me long to begin to favor the red jacket, even if the drivers were less courteous.

Lastly, and similarly to the gas stop signals, the color of my jacket also told a story. Regardless if it was true or not, the jacket and people’s urgency to label would put me in a category. Motorcyclist or girl on a bike. I learned quickly that I wanted to be regarded as a motorcyclist and not as a girl on a bike. Again, I began to wear the red jacket more often.

Today, I can wear whatever color I want to wear (so long as the apparel manufacture’s make it). My point is that I have, for me personally, reached a level at which my skill overshadows my appearance. Even if the on-lookers don’t know who I am and judge me by a pink or red jacket, it doesn’t bother me any more. The confidence I have in myself goes beyond colors and judgements. But at the time, it did influence me. It made me aware of the space I was trying to enter, and at that time I was only entering it as an enthusiast, not as a professional.

It’s always interesting to me to step back and look at the snap shots from my past. To take the time to reanalyze the experiences with seasoned eyes. A lot has progressed in motorcycling for woman since the day I began riding back in 2005. Pink or black aren’t the only options any more. More women are riding, riding alone, and traveling. With more women on the road and in the community, more men are seeing more women and it’s becoming less of a “big deal.” Things are changing and that feels good to me.

What is the moral of this story? There really isn’t one. I wanted to highlight a difference I felt between two different jackets and how those jackets made me feel. It’s important to note the signals we want to send or the signals we are sending. It’s why we decided to wear our best dress to that party, or your favorite sweater to your friend’s house. Motorcycling is no different. I learned, for me, that being on the road, alone, it was most important for me to fly under the radar more often than not. When I got home, I hung up the pink jacket.