Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
She wasn’t allowed to be free. She wasn’t allowed to wear pants, to sweat, to spit, to scrunch up her face. Nobody told her this but she knew. She had forgotten how to fight, how to feel passion, how to suffer – because it was not feminine.
One day, she was brought to try. She was given wings though she did not know it. She climbed onto a bicycle – it was big, awkward, scary. She struggled but for once, she felt excitement, potential, wonder and… freedom. She wanted to do it again.
Steadily, she grew used to her bike and came to love the wind in her hair. She learnt the movements and limitations of her body and became stronger and more adventurous. Her bike was not only her freedom but her scream, her power, her protest.
The whir of the chains, the clicks of the pedals, the laughter of friends began to define her. She began to know her city, not only the directions but the roads, their holes, defects and exact gradients. She found a new appreciation for the world around her – the colours, the weather the wild life. She could tell you, every day, which way the wind was blowing.
The community embraced her and she could always find another cyclist nearby – each and every one with a fire in their heart and an appreciation of life. For the first time since being a child, she felt the joy of liberation.
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