Black Girls Do Bike
Coach and rider Brooke Goudy on the importance of representation.
Coach Brooke
By Brooke Goudy
I remember the first day I arrived at practice. Before grabbing my bike from the back of the truck, I went through my pack to make sure that I had everything on the checklist: tool kit, check; extra snacks, check; first aid kit and sign-in sheet; check and check. I was ready, but the shakiness of my hands as I buckled up my helmet and headed to the front of the school was evidence of my nervousness. I had been recruited, interviewed and offered a position to coach a high school mountain biking team. The head coach had wanted more representation in leadership, and had reached out to the organization that I co-lead, Black Girls Do Bike Denver, to ask for volunteers. I had no experience as a coach, but decided it would be a great opportunity to advocate for more young riders of color.
The high school program consists of over 100 mountain bikers, and since their start in 2010, they have won eight State Championships. Looking around and seeing the lack of diversity of riders and coaches was overwhelming. Not shocking, simply overwhelming. I was assigned to the sophomore boys, a group of young men that I assumed had been doing this longer than I had even owned a bike. We went through our alphabet, ABCD. “Let’s all check our tire pressure, now the brakes, don’t forget to lube up your chain, and everyone let’s make sure we can shift without any problems. Okay, we are ready to go.” I started to find my stride and my hands became less shaky. I was feeling more like the name-tag that I was wearing, “Coach Brooke.”
After our ride I arrived back at the school, a little more winded and sweatier than I left. Admittedly, it was the most fun I have had in a long time. I looked around to catch a glimpse of all the cyclists being picked up by parents, or riding in pairs on their way home. I gave some side glances to the coaches giving the end-of-practice report. I felt out of place. A voice that I hear often when I am in spaces like this, came back to me. I hear it when there is no one around that looks like me. I hear it when I realize I am out of my league. I hear it when I feel like the only one. It whispers, “You don’t belong here.”
I arrived at my truck and began to throw my bike on the back. What the hell was I doing?
After weeks of practices, friendships made between coaches, and relationships being built with these young boys, I knew why I was there. It matters that these white boys and girls see you leading, coaching, and riding dirt. You are shaking up the way they see the world. No one is going to have to tell them that “Black girls do bike.” No one is going to have to tell them that women can lead, coach and inspire men. Their young brains, still being molded, are taking note of my presence.
I finished up the season, and on our last day I ate ice cream with my athletes and cheered on the seniors as they made their way out of the program. All my advocacy work has been around making mountain biking a more inclusive and diverse sport. Although a Black woman on a mountain bike is not the norm for many reasons, it was amazing to be the representation for these young athletes. Representation matters not just for Black folks but for the young white boys that grow up to dominate this sport. These amazing, respectful, young men are able to see this sport become more diverse and know first hand that Black women coach, and they freakin’ shred too.
Brooke is a co-leader of Black Girls Do Bike Denver, and a high school mountain bike coach. As an ambassador for VIDA, she co- leads an Impact committee that works to eliminate barriers to make mountain biking more inclusive, equitable and diverse. She recently joined with Boulder Mountain Bike Alliance to establish BIPOC-only bike rides, which she helps lead. This summer, Brooke is riding the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route, more than 2,700 miles with over 200,000 feet of elevation gain and loss. She is an ambassador for Yeti Cycles, Pearl Izumi and WTB.
