Announcing my world record attempt

I'm outta here from June 6th.

I have no idea what my overlap is with Instagram and this newsletter, so sorry if you’re reading this twice. Regardless, this has more content to it because I trust that people who are willing to get my emails don’t mind the ramble.

Over the weekend, while sitting on Te Huia I typed out my world record announcement. Here it is:

You know what, I was going to wait longer and finish my fancy video editing but there’s been some shit trans news lately and we need some trans positivity.

I’m announcing my world record attempt. I am leaving Aotearoa this June with the goal to be the first transgender person to cycle around the world.

I’ve been planning the world trip for five years, and the world record for two years, including months of route planning and route approval. I have kept it very quiet because I don’t want to lose my attempt (and the blood, sweat and tears just to get myself to this start line) when circumstances out of my control meant I couldn’t leave New Zealand any sooner.

But now I’ve paid all my bills, I’m insured, I’ve got the tickets and the gear, I have the approval of Guinness World Records, and I’ve handed in my resignation. All systems are go.

I’ve quit a lot of things here over the last 8 months because I’m done with being hit with internalized homophobia, transphobia and white supremacy. I’m done with being expected to make people feel better or like they’re doing enough. I’m done with being treated like a problem. Instead of twisting myself in knots trying to fit into spaces that aren’t for me, I’m going to go make spaces that are.

I’m barely posting or looking at the internet because I have to be mentally well enough to pack up my life, quit my job and do this wild attempt.

I’ll be telling the story along the way through photos and videos.

My story isn’t going to be another story of a trans person trying to prove our humanity to our oppressors and convince them to let us in the right toilets. It’s a story by a radical queer, for radical queers. It’s a story for people who want more from bikepacking than some kind of heroic Lone Ranger colonising the landscape.

There’s no camera crew, no flashy corporate sponsors, and no light race bikes.

Just one colorful bike, some camping gear, a camera and a dream.

I’d never take for granted the privilege I have to be able to do this (seriously. It’s wild. I tear up sometimes just thinking about it).

I start in Vancouver. My world route will stay private for safety reasons.

More to come.

xo,
Robbie

---

It went…well. The reaction was positive! At least, everything I could see that wasn’t behind a “Instagram has hidden some of the comments” safety barrier.

I’m really thankful for the affirming comments.

My mental health has been better than ever up until the last couple of weeks, where everything has to fall in perfect succession from now until I leave, like a nice little row of bicycle dominoes.

“Are you afraid?” people keep asking.

I’m not afraid of bicycling long distances in strange places. Being afraid of the world doesn’t really compute when on so many levels, home’s scarier.

I’m afraid of performances of gender, woke backlash, and blame. I’m afraid of the toll emotional labour takes on my mental and physical health. I’m afraid of the moments where I’m expected to be the perfect token trans person.

I’d rather carry my bike over a mountain than deal with the guy from Trademe who’s coming to collect his purchase Monday, oh maybe Tuesday, bugger I got held up how’s Wednesday, oh maybe Thursday or Friday, okay Saturday then. (please, I’m leaving the country in two weeks)

Why do people from Trademe (or any other second-hand goods marketplace) think we’re NPCs that just sit at our house waiting for them to show up? This particular thing makes me feel unreasonably unhappy about society, even though there are so many other better things to be frustrated about regarding society.

But I can’t imagine that the people who are bad Trademe house-guests are out there calling for a free Palestine on the weekend, either.

Never be nice, always be kind. I’ve threatened to get it tattooed on me, alongside all of my other million tattoos.

Nice is a performance that’s ruining us. It’s keeping up appearances for an oppressive status quo. Being kind is about doing the right thing, caring about all people until proven otherwise, and building community.

The side project to my world record attempt is to write and record video along the way. Something like what happens if you cross The Leftist Cooks’ earnest, queer, hopeful messages with ultraromance’s visuals and let a weird little guy who went to art school for four years do the editing.

Earnest writing is my favourite kind of writing by other people. Instead of pretending we’re so very disinterested and cool, and unaffected by the world being inconsiderate to us, we can finally admit that when things cut us, we bleed.

I’m a very squishy world record cyclist, and I’m very aware of how likely it is the world could crush me. Or bears could eat me as a little snack.

Looking back at the Hunt 1000, a lot of the people who weren’t in the 50% of riders that made it to the finish line had very strong opinions about how far they’d go every day. A cautious approach has worked for me on every brevet I’ve participated in.

Anyway, this is just an interim “watch this space” message until I launch my Youtube channel.

See ya soon.

Robbie