Rockets, Resistance, and the Ride: The Bicycle as a Teacher

Throughout my life, words have never fully captured my journey in cycling. The bike has been a teacher, a source of joy, and at times, sadness. As a young southern Black man, my relationship with cycling holds layers I’ve struggled to articulate.

That changed during a conversation with fellow Black cyclists. I met this great group of folks in Greenville, South Carolina, during a community bicycle ride for Momentum Bike Clubs.  We shared stories—moments of pure joy and tough experiences. As we spoke about the indescribable feeling we have while cycling, one friend nailed it:

 "It feels like riding a rocket ship into space."

That metaphor stuck with me. Like astronauts, Black cyclists are durable, disciplined, and resilient. We navigate spaces that can feel risky, requiring mental toughness and courage. Most importantly, we’re pioneering and inspirational in our own right. I wrote this hoping my words resonate with others, capturing the journey of one Black cyclist.

Blasting Off

In the summer 2001, in Rockingham, NC, I asked my younger cousin to teach me how to cycle. It was another weekend at my Grandmother's house, and I was determined. Everyone else knew how—why not me? Despite my excitement, I struggled. I checked the bike, thinking it had to be the problem, not me. After a full day of trying, I barely made it 10 feet before falling. As night fell, we planned to tackle it again the next day. Saturday, we woke up determined, but I only improved by half a foot. With one day left, Sunday felt like my last shot. The first attempt? I fell. But the second? I was rolling—it clicked.

I still remember that feeling of finally rolling. I get it every time I ride now. It’s a mix of anticipation, uncertainty, and excitement—like blasting off in a rocket ship. Back then, I had no idea where this bike would take me, and honestly, I didn’t care. I was just happy in those fleeting moments, letting the bike guide me.

Now, I understand that feeling better. Cycling gives me a sense of freedom—going where I want, at my speed, with no one to say otherwise. It’s also escapism. Like an astronaut floating in space, I’m in my own world. Everything else fades; only the road ahead is real. For a young Black southern man, that mix of freedom and escape is essential—not just as a distraction, but as restoration and joy. Navigating life in a society that often works against us can be tough. We deserve that joy. Cycling became my outlet for that—and so much more.

Exploration 

I believe in exposure: if you see it, you believe it, and you can achieve it. I never planned where this bike would take me, but it’s led me to worlds I never imagined. When my cousin taught me to ride, it wasn’t just about pedaling—it was my first lesson in persistence and patience. I learned to find joy in the struggle and the value of learning from others.

As I grew more confident, the bike connected me with neighborhood friends, building memories and lifelong friendships. I learned empathy, selflessness, and care. Now, as a Ph.D. student, cycling is part of my research, opening doors to academic opportunities I never expected. I’ve met people, walked into rooms, and gained experiences all because of this two-wheeled companion. The bike has helped me explore parts of myself I might not have discovered otherwise.

Most importantly, the bicycle has been a vessel for health and community, especially for "us." It’s been life-changing for many in the Black community facing health disparities. Take Black cyclist Donnie Seals Sr., who overcame heart issues through his cycling journey, or Matt Onojafe, who found an outlet for anxiety as a new father. Cycling offers emotional and psychological benefits—a simple practice with a significant impact.

Since the 2020 bike boom, Black Americans have returned to cycling in greater numbers, sparking the formation of new Black cycling clubs and strengthening existing ones. The places the bicycle has taken us and the ways it’s brought our community together are immeasurable. But, like many aspects of American life, Black cyclists still face injustices within the cycling community.

Buffeting 

Buffeting—the shaking and vibrating of a rocket ship—causes problems during launch. For Black cyclists, racism is our version of buffeting.

I’ve always known I’m Black before anything else. It’s my most defining trait—how I see the world and how the world sees me. And I love it. But on the bike, my Blackness has always stood out. Some say being on a bike gives Black men a "halo effect," but it doesn’t change a bigot’s mind. While bikes can unite people across races, they can’t erase prejudice. My beautiful Black skin has shaped my cycling journey in profound ways.

A sign points to Lewis Mountain, then a segregated area of Shenandoah National Park, in this 1940s file photo. National Park Service

Many Black cyclists share similar experiences with racism and prejudice. Systemic and interpersonal racism creates tension among cyclists who don’t look like us. While bikes have symbolized hope, freedom, and peace since their invention, they’ve also been tied to White supremacy, oppression, classism, and gentrification. Since the 1890s, White Americans have tried to keep Black people off bikes, using Jim Crow laws, over-policing, and unjust infrastructure to limit our access. Professional cycling remains predominantly white, criticized for its lack of inclusivity.

But like Kittie Knox and Major Taylor, Black cyclists continue to fight these injustices. We’ve used the bike to amplify our voices, proving we belong in this space. We’ve carved our lane and dominated the sport—and we’re not stopping.

Touching Down 

What’s more important than our people? Than the well-being of our future—our Black and Brown youth? How could I experience something so transformative and not share it with my community and youth? Who better to speak about the moon than an astronaut? My mother taught me each one, teach one, and my father showed me the value of building community. As someone deeply committed to cycling and the importance of representation for young Black and Brown faces, it only makes sense to share my knowledge, knowing it could change lives and strengthen our community as it has my own. I’ve realized my purpose with the bicycle is to pass on its power to others who look like me and can benefit from it. Between me and you, as much as I love the feeling of riding, it’s just as gratifying to see others experience that same joy. Like an astronaut whose mission is to put young new astronauts on the next rocket to space, I feel called to give back what cycling has given me, hoping it can transform someone’s life the way it did mine.

As I continue this journey, I hope my story inspires others to find their own rocket ship, to embrace the freedom of the ride, and to navigate the challenges with courage. Because cycling, at its core, is more than just movement—it’s a journey of discovery, empowerment, and unshakable joy.