Why I No Longer Identify As a Mountain Biker

Photo Credit: @pedalhomie

Recently I have been struggling with my identity as a person of color who enjoys spending time outside. Since childhood, mí forma de ser has revolved around riding bikes, and connecting with nature for my mind and soul. For the past ten years it felt natural to introduce myself to the outdoor community as a mountain biker. How else could I prove to people that I belonged? Or that I was doing my best to take up space on the trails as a person of color in a mostly white community. 

In the back of mind, it occurred to me that growing up, I never had to explain who I was to people from the neighborhood even though I was practically glued to my bike. There was no need to label or brand myself. I wasn’t a cyclist, I was a kid who liked riding bikes. This is where the love of this activity started. I didn’t feel pressured to fit a certain image or brand. However, as I grew up and began to ride beyond my neighborhood, things began to change. I began to think that my newfound love for riding my bike in the mountains required me to become part of the mountain biking culture behind it as well. Thus began a slow and painful attempt to assimilate into an identity that wasn’t my own. 

I am not a mountain biker.

Identity is one hell of a social construct. It can provide purpose, but also conflict with the spectrums that we naturally embody, feel, and navigate. At times the identities we inhabit can feel flawed and inaccurate. Or, they can embody the perfect “blueprint” of who we are. While the way a person identifies can be ever-changing and fluid, the branding for a specific outdoor identity, like mountain biker or climber, comes heavily prepackaged. 

Whether your outdoor brand is hiker, climber, mountain biker or trail-runner, there’s a collective sense of what each brand embodies. Of what the individual should look like. Of what values or common language they should share. And, let’s be honest, these values and languages, histories and cultures, aren’t always what they are presented to be. For starters, they lack inclusivity and equity. Many of them are rooted in gatekeeping mentalities, racist values, and colonizer-based principles. 

Ultimately, conforming to certain pre-packaged brands can feel messy and complex—like a constant identity crisis!

I am a person who rides mountain bikes. 

 In my own experience, becoming a mountain biker meant occupying a one-size-fits-all identity. It was difficult. If you are brown or different in any way from the white, male, able bodied athletes promoted by major brands, your task is to assimilate by default. Like many other things, the mountain biking brand was established by people who don’t look like me and who don’t necessarily share my values. 

Photo Credit: @timberfoster

Little by little the social circles around me accepted it, “David is a mountain biker.” I started to think about what would help make me more of a mountain biker. I searched for role models, people who looked like me who had already made their mark in the sport. When that wasn’t forthcoming, I started to look to the dominant white culture for guidance and direction. I copied the way they dressed by buying “the right” clothes; I mirrored the way they spoke by changing my speech patterns and adding new slang; I signed up for enduro and cross-country races to establish my ranking as a mountain biker; I wanted to go as “fast” as them, so I invested in brand name bikes with hefty price tags. I wanted to become more athletic, so I became obsessed with physical training. 

It almost felt as though my identity was perfectly in line with being a mountain biker, but my mind and soul were not. I continually justified this by believing that I was going to help change the culture. I believed that people like me would be able to make a community for ourselves. The sad reality is that it started to change me. Assimilation can do that.  

Photo Credit: @pedalhomie

It took me a long time to realize that the push to assimilate is rooted in gatekeeping based on mountain biking’s racist, elitist, and capitalist culture. No matter how hard I attempted to be part of the mountain biking brand and culture, it never felt right. It never felt like me. Now that I think about it deeper, it was an unhealthy relationship that caused me a lot of harm. Whether the harm caused was intentional or not, it’s central to the sport. Through this reflective process, I have found that there are four main levels that explain how and why these outdoor communities are shaped by gatekeeping, racism, and elitism. Essentially, how they cause harm. 

Purposely

Their actions are intentional and targeted to cause harm. Like the time a mountain biker called my queer friend a dyke for not moving off the trail. 

Knowledgeably

Their harmful actions are known, but NOT targeted. Like the time I was loading up my bike at the trailhead and a group of trail-runners were making fun of Asian and Mexican accents.

Recklessly

Their actions are unknown, there is no target,  BUT the risk to cause harm is still taken. Like the time I was wrongfully accused by another mountain biker of stealing a bike. 

Negligently

Their actions are unaware of the risk to cause harm, BUT harm is caused. Like the time I went into a bike shop to pick up my bicycle and was asked repeatedly for my receipt to verify that the bike was mine. 

Photo Credit: @timberfoster

For the most part, the gatekeeping that I have experienced has fallen under the categories of recklessness and negligence. The individual typically doesn’t know they are causing harm, but harm is still caused. It's almost as if racism and elitism are so deeply embedded into these outdoor communities that they don’t realize that their actions are harmful. 

I am no longer putting a label on it. 

I recently found it therapeutic to formally announce “break-ups.” Yes, this is an untraditional break-up. Whether it be with a person or even an identity, breaking up can allow for the mind and body to fully process a threshold and transition in a healthy way. So, I am publicly announcing that I no longer identify as a mountain biker. I am “breaking-up” with my mountain biking identity. Although I will continue to ride, I am no longer putting a label on it. I will continue to ride for the simplicity of it. Separating myself from this brand matters to me. The purpose is to move forward in a way that allows me to fully explore my liberation, rather than assimilation. 

I am not here to say that individuals are incapable of changing the landscape, culture, and branding of these outdoor sports. There are many identities that I embody that I continue to value: partner, father, son, brother, Mexican American, educator, and many more. Rather, I am here to say that my idea of liberation is not bound up with outdoor communities that were not designed with my values, experiences or identities in mind. They were simply prepackaged for me to consume. My default is no longer assimilation. I am challenging myself to be present in outdoor spaces while resisting the pressure to change myself in order to “fit in.” I am not a mountain biker, I am someone who enjoys riding bikes. 

Cover photo: Photo by Tim Foster on Unsplash