To Saltburn, of all places, to witness the East Cleveland Classic cycle race. It has indeed become a “classic,” though one suspects the term was originally used here with the same generosity applied to overcooked Sunday roasts and tribute bands.
The photo shows the Women’s race, which, in a rare nod to dignity, begins at the civilised hour of 9 am. The men, ever the main event, are granted the afternoon slot—conveniently timed for when I would rather be on my proverbial nap.
The Women’s race felt like an opening act—polite applause, a couple of cowbells clanging, a handful of hardened cycling obsessives lining the unforgiving slopes of Saltburn Bank, and an atmosphere that might generously be described as anticipatory. This afternoon, the masses are expected to appear, presumably drawn by the promise of male thighs in Lycra.
Women’s cycling, still treated as a hobby for the few, has grown significantly—though the bar was so low it barely counted as a pastime at all until relatively recently.
Cycling, that great 19th-century invention, began life as a diversion for men with money and time to waste. They tottered about on ridiculous contraptions with names like “hobby horses” and “Dandy horses,” projecting an air of refinement that vanished as soon as they fell off. Women, as ever, were not invited to participate unless it was to be ridiculed, forbidden, or fetishised. The mere sight of a woman on two wheels sent Victorians into a panic. She might be going somewhere. Alone.
The bicycle and any clothing that allowed a woman to ride one were endlessly debated by men deeply concerned with female morality and reproductive organs. One feared she might develop “bicycle face,” a condition as real as unicorns but much more dangerous to patriarchal control. Straddling a bicycle, we were told, was too suggestive. Movement, of course, led to independence, and independence was terrifying.
When the Rover “safety bicycle” arrived in 1885, everything changed. Women began cycling in large numbers, which naturally caused moral collapse. The sight of a woman enjoying herself, unchaperoned, was a sure sign of social decay. Postcards from the era depict these monsters abandoning their families, presumably to consort with radicals or—worse—other women.
By the 1890s, the bicycle was seen as a symbol of liberation, much to the disgust of those who preferred their women quiet, invisible, and chained to kitchen sinks. Cambridge University went so far as to burn a cycling woman in effigy in 1897, a charming expression of intellectual insecurity. They then ensured women were kept out of degree ceremonies for another fifty years, safeguarding male excellence from contamination.
One might call it progress, albeit dragged along behind a very slow-moving penny-farthing.
Further reading
Johnston, Tamsin. “The history of women cyclists – an uphill climb to equality”. 13 January, 2025. Nottingham Trent University. https://theconversation.com/the-history-of-women-cyclists-an-uphill-climb-to-equality-244984
Leave a Reply