It started, as it often does, on Twitter. Many of us had been reeling from the murders of Nicole Smallman and her sister Bibaa Henry, Sabina Nessa, and Sarah Everard. There had been constant media coverage about male violence against women. Women across the UK were demonstrating against male violence and misogyny, attending vigils, and running reclaim our streets events.
It was early October. I’d be out in Edinburgh’s city centre at the cinema and was cycling home alone in the dark down the Innocent Path. It’s a long narrow isolated path that has no escape routes and is contained on each side by thick foliage and walls. It can be lovely during the day, especially in summer. However, there are regular incidents of anti-social behaviour involving young men. Many women I knew refused to ride on it in the dark. I had been buzzed several times in the past by lads on fast noisy dirt-bikes. I was nervous.
As I came out of the tunnel, I saw a male cyclist with no lights far ahead of me. We were doing around the same speed. And then he disappeared. The hairs went up on the back of my neck. Where was he? How could he just vanish? I am not normally afraid, but the media stories had been getting to me. I slowed. My heart pumped. I took a few deep breaths. I felt ridiculous. I considered turning around to go back. But the alternative on-road route had fast heavy traffic. I was stuck. Dangerous aggressive drivers or a creepy path with a man who had just disappeared, presumably into the bushes?
I continued, and as I got around halfway down the path the man came out of the bushes twenty or thirty metres ahead of me, got on his bike and set off. There was no one else around. I kept behind him and finally lost sight of him when I emerged at the Duddingston Road West crossing.
Nothing happened to me. But I was spooked. I got home and took to Twitter. I told the story. I had an incredible response. So many women came forward and said they dreaded having to choose between dangerous drivers and secluded off-road paths. Some women said they stopped cycling in the winter. Others said they sometimes cycled on the pavements. There were reports of abuse, bullying and assault on the off-road paths, including along the canal tow path. Some men said they wouldn’t use the paths on their own at night either and preferred to cycle in groups. It was clear to me we had a problem. But what to do?
The City of Edinburgh Council has ambitious plans for new cycling infrastructure as part of its City Mobility Plan 2030. And during covid, new Spaces for People pop-up infrastructure went in. This included stretches of road with bollards and defenders used to provide temporary protected cycle lanes. The Council intends to convert much of this temporary infrastructure to permanent schemes, and the process is underway.
However, current infrastructure is woefully inadequate, and major cycling projects in the city have a history of long delays and objections. Additionally, the Council’s plans are not supported by everyone. At least one councillor has insisted that cyclists, including women, should use an isolated unlit muddy off-road path rather than having road space reallocated away from cars for active travel. This is despite sensible national policy on the travel hierarchy, which puts cycling above private car use.
I took to Twitter. I proposed a women’s evening critical mass/reclaim the streets ride in Edinburgh. Would anyone be interested in getting involved? Again, there was an overwhelming response. Yes, women said. We can help, women said. Great idea, women said. We can dress up, women said. A light up the streets vibe, women said.
And so, a group of amazing women came together. We had a meeting. We picked a date. We aligned with the UN’s 16 days of activism against gender-based violence. We recruited more women to help via Critical Mass Edinburgh and friends of friends. We set up a twitter account. We designed logos. We got invites out. We went to work on social media. We spread the word. We did risk assessments and chose a route and wrestled with roadworks and changed the route. We did recces of the route and inspected junctions and roundabouts and road surfaces.
We made films and took pictures of the off-road routes at night. We organised a photoshoot and wrote the press release. We borrowed a sound system and loaded it onto a cargo bike. We organised ride marshals. We selected the first aider. We borrowed tabards for our marshals. We weather-watched and we weather-watched and we weather-watched. We even baked (the word ‘we’ is doing a lot of heavy lifting here). All of this by a group of women who had never worked together before and were all juggling other responsibilities.
The day arrived. We were ready. It was clear and crisp, around two degrees. We knew of at least two feeder rides; from Portobello and Corstorphine. We didn’t know how many people would come. We were hoping for around a hundred. We would have settled for just ourselves. We got our gear on. We taped flashing colourful lights all over our bikes. We pulled on extra socks and extra sweaters and extra thermals. We did selfies for Twitter. We arrived at the Meadows for a final briefing.
And we watched the Meadows light up.
It is hard not to get emotional about this. 170 people came on a ride led by, organised by, and marshalled by women. 170 people came to tell councillors that we must have night-time cycling infrastructure that is safe for women and girls. 170 people came to reclaim our streets from traffic, just for an hour.
I stood on a park bench and gave the ride briefing. We held a minute’s silence for women and girls who have been killed on their bikes by drivers. We broke the silence with a wonderful mass bell ringing. And then we set off, the slowest and least confident riders at the front.
For the full visuals you’ll need to check out #LightUpTheNight on Twitter. Trust me, it was fabulous. So many smiles. So many waves. Friendly toots from drivers. Cheers from large groups of people waiting to get into clubs and bars. Cheerful nods from bus drivers. We took the streets. No, we reclaimed our streets. We were empowered. We were a carnival and we were fabulous. Our marshals zipped up and down the streets keeping the group safe, holding back drivers at junctions, and passing messages between the front and the rear of the ride. The wee girls behind the ride leader shouted instructions to those coming behind – slowing slowing! Stop stop! (Later we were told that one of these wee girls had lost her voice the next day, such was her enthusiasm.)
At some point I wished it would never end. But end it did. We pulled into the Meadows ringing our bells and headed for Sarah’s tree, down the specially lit boulevard on Jawbone Walk. There, we ate cakes, drank hot drinks from flasks, shared both the joy of the ride and the sadness behind its purpose. And on everyone’s lips? When is the next one? Spring, I said. Early Spring.
If you’d like to get involved with the next Light Up The Night cycle ride in Edinburgh, please contact lightupthenightcycleride@gmail.com
SANDERLINGS 