Taking Up Space — Diary of a New Cyclist Pt 2.
I can’t remember when I learnt that, as a woman, taking up space was seen as a bad thing. I just know that by the time I was an adult and making my way around in the world, I was actively trying to be as small as possible — ducking out of peoples’ way on the pavement, pressing up against the walls of the tube, apologising when distracted commuters collided with me as they got off the bus. As a bigger woman, I feel this even more keenly, exceedingly aware that just by existing I’m taking up more room than a woman is supposed to. But after just a few months on a bike, I’m starting to realise that this attitude is incompatible with joyful cycling.
I first had a sense of it when I decided it was time to venture out of the comfort of my low traffic neighbourhood and try cycling into Central London. The plan was to meet some friends we hadn’t seen since before lockdown in Hyde Park. I’d cycle over with my boyfriend, we’d take the quiet route on Citymapper, and once we got beyond the backstreets of Lambeth we’d mostly be on segregated cycle routes. Easy. But very early on into our journey I started feeling anxious. I was panicky, snapping at my boyfriend when he tried to chat or check in on how I was doing.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is your bike okay? Is the route too busy? Do you feel unsafe?”
But it wasn’t any of these things. I didn’t feel unsafe or unsteady or unsure. I felt conspicuous — I was anxious because I was taking up more space than I was supposed to, all because my boyfriend was cycling alongside me on the road. I kept looking over my shoulder to check if impatient cars were queuing up (they weren’t). I kept speeding up or slowing down to try and get back into single file and my boyfriend, oblivious to my worry, matched my pace. By all accounts, he was doing the right thing. I was a new, nervous cyclist, travelling on unfamiliar and busy roads for the first time. He was an experienced, confident cyclist, trying to keep his body between me and the traffic. But I felt awful. Eventually, we made it onto the protected cycle lanes that come in over the river and the panic dissipated.
It was only a couple of weeks ago that I even became aware that this was happening in my mind. But it did become clear, in one very specific moment, as I almost collided into the back of a car whose driver had slammed on their breaks right in front of me.
I was cycling home from Herne Hill velodrome with my boyfriend after watching the Wednesday night racing with some local friends. We’d had an amazing time watching a sport we didn’t even remotely understand, catching up with friends and hearing about what was happening in their lives. As the sun set we cycled back along Burbage Road, which, if you’re not familiar with the area, looks a little something like this:
The whole thing is covered in speed bumps. And as we cycled, merrily along, I was surprised when a car slammed on the accelerator to overtake me. Assuming I was holding up a whole bunch of traffic, I turned my head to look behind me, only to see an empty street. Confused, I looked forward again, only to see the car which had just moments ago rushed to overtake me slamming on its breaks as it neared the speed bump. I managed to stop just before my front wheel collided with its rear bumper and watched as the driver accelerated off again. For the rest of our journey along burbage road, we followed this car along as it accelerated for a few metres, and then slammed on the breaks as it approached the speed bump, stopping and starting in a way that must have been infuriating for all of us.
I got home, posted this tweet, and put my phone down. When I next picked it up my mentions were full of the same hashtag: #MGIF. Apparently this wasn’t a new phenomenon, but one that was familiar to cyclists all over the world. MGIF stands for Must Get In Front and is used when a driver goes above and beyond to get in front of a cyclist, even if it inconveniences them or makes the road unsafe for other users.
I don’t know what drivers are thinking when overtake cyclists in this way. The more optimistic part of me hopes that they do it because they’re nervous — they’re worried about colliding with the cyclist, or intimidating them by sitting behind, so when they see a spot they go for it as quickly as they can. Another part of me worries that drivers are completely aware of how intimidating and stressful this move is for cyclists, particularly those who are new to the road, and is intentionally used to remind them who *really* owns the space.
Reading the responses to the tweet, each with their own experience or example of drivers playing fast and loose with the lives of the people they shared the roads with, didn’t terrify me in the way you might predict. Instead, it left me feeling like it was my responsibility to stake my claim to street space — not just for myself, but for every other person out there who chooses to ride a bike to get from A to B. If I don’t claim my space on the roads, drivers aren’t going to gift it to me of their free will. And as a young and able-bodied woman, I’d rather be the one to fight to take up that space than leave it to a child, or an elderly person, or for someone whom their bike is also their mobility device. The next weekend, I cycled to Kingston-on-Thames to see my niece and nephew, and as I rode through major intersections in Wimbledon I sat right in the middle of the lane, making sure I put my safety over the convenience of the drivers around me. I took up space.
If you are a driver who often finds themselves sharing road space with cyclists, then this next part is for you. As a new cyclist, I am not ashamed to admit that I am scared of cars on the roads. The sound that a car makes as it accelerates is *so much louder* when you’re not in a car yourself. Having that noise come up behind you when you’re not expecting is enough to make you panic, to make your foot slip off the pedal, or to make you veer, or to do any other unpredictable things a driver might not be expecting. And however much space you think you need to give a cyclist when you overtake them — double it. Travelling a bit slower behind a cyclist while you wait for a quiet place to overtake them won’t make you late to your destination, but it might help me make it to mine alive.
