Editor’s note: This is part one of an ongoing series about femme/trans/women (FTW) folks working on and practicing active transportation and helping all of us feel and be more safe.
I recently attended the National Bike Summit hosted by the League of American Bicyclists in Washington, D.C. I was there to connect with other bike- and pedestrian-minded folks, lobby at the Capitol for safer laws and practices, and attend talks by leaders across the country. But mostly I was there to hear Jennifer Homendy speak.
Homendy, who chairs the National Transportation Safety Board, spoke at the first Bike Summit I attended in 2021. No hyperbole: She changed my life. Her no-nonsense way of speaking about the key factors affecting bike/ped safety coupled with her deft use of the supporting data was inspiring, impactful and sobering.
I came into that first conference with an “eyes the size of dinner plates” mentality — in short, overwhelmed — and her speech helped me feel more grounded and well informed. What left the most indelible impression on me, however, was when Jennifer referenced the month (March) in which the conference was held. “March is Women’s History Month,” she said, “and no one is talking about how gender affects us. Biking is a gender issue, full stop.”
As a longtime modeshift advocate and year-round bike rider, I’m embarrassed to admit that I was floored by this. Homendy was so blatantly saying something that was obvious, yet insidious, and a reality from which, perhaps, I had been hiding. Of course my gender presentation affects how I get along in the world. That feeling of dis-ease I’ve felt biking along the Midtown Greenway at night? My hesitancy to ride the light rail alone sometimes? She had nailed it for me. Her 2025 talk focused less on gender and more on the staggering number of people killed by car drivers every year. But that’s a different article.
An Underrepresented Worldview
Multiple layers of identity shape the way we move in the world. It is imperative to understand the way how we look intersects with how we get around. Our race, the way we dress, our disability status, our gender appearance: It all coalesces to influence our access to infrastructure, the way we are treated by law enforcement or public servants, and our sense and feeling of safety when we are out and about. Inequity is baked into our roads’ designs and locations (hello, I-94?), and resource allocation reflects priorities to serve richer and whiter neighborhoods.
I mean, how often is the escalator at the Lake Street light rail station broken? Will the lights along the LRT through Riverside ever be fixed?
We can’t get away from our bodies moment to moment, from the way we appear to others in the world while we move through our streets. Our gender identity and presentation is no exception. Ostensibly, half of us out biking, walking, rolling and taking transit are not men, but a quick Google search on “the most influential bike people” or “top traffic engineers” reveals a gender gap so big it could be a national monument.
As an antidote, I’ve been compiling interviews with my friends and peers across the state who are champions of multi-modal transportation through their work and advocacy. If it feels like a shock that gender plays such a big role in transportation, consider the national lens through which we view women, trans, femme and nonbinary people. As an on-topic example, the nation’s biking advocacy organization was named the League of American Wheelmen until the 1990s.
Auntie Advocates
But why “aunties”? The answer to that is twofold. In my work as deputy director at BikeMN, I’ve had the immense pleasure of getting to know femme/trans/women (FTW) and nonbinary advocates across Minnesota and the country. In my head I’ve been affectionately referring to this group collectively as my “bike aunties.”
- Women of an older generation than I, telling me about their lives with the “no bullshit” attitude that years of seeing everything engenders.
- Femme folks talking with me about how to dress for bikes and the “hacks” they’ve come up with to tie up a skirt or wear a helmet as a hijabi.
- Nonbinary folks working to make biking more accessible to more types of bodies in a (still) fatphobic and ableist world.
I’ve also settled into my role as “auntie” in my personal life. I have a nibbling, whose care I am heavily involved in, and I’ve entered an age where many of my friends have kiddos who call me “auntie.” I never felt called to be a mother, but “auntie angela”? Now that fits. As my friend Reyna (also an auntie) explained to me, “An auntie is someone who will help you do something a bit dangerous. Your mom will probably say, ‘Don’t do that,’ but your auntie will say, ‘OK, here is how to do that safely — or as least dangerously as possible.’”
And “active mobility”? This seemed like the best way to describe the myriad of ways that aunties are out here working to make it easier to get around. Biking, walking, rolling, transit, infrastructure — the folks I met with are really doing it all.
So “Aunties of Active Mobility” is a celebration and examination of FTW and nonbinary advocates keeping us safe out here in Minnesota. These are people in our communities making it safer to bike, walk, roll and take transit who know what it’s like to navigate the world while dealing with the burdens of gender inequity head on. I could write an entire biography of each of these folks and it still would not be enough to highlight all of their work and impact.
So far, I’ve spoken with 10 aunties who’ve generously shared their stories with me. With so much content, this will be a series. In this first installment I’ll tell you about Cindy Winters, a retired public health professional fiercely advocating in Mankato, and Seaarra (who goes by one name), a Minneapolis mom bringing folks together through her commitment to community bike rides in nature. I hope you enjoy learning about these two advocates as much as I’ve enjoyed knowing them.
In future segments of this series, I will highlight other Aunties of Active Transportation.
Seaarra: Minneapolis
Seaarra is a Minneapolis-based mom, community organizer, cycling advocate and yoga instructor and the founder of Biking with Baddies. To say I am a superfan is an understatement. Her work with Biking with Baddies is so cool. “Biking with Baddies is a safe space for women and marginalized folks,” she says. “All women are welcome to enjoy cycling without judgement.” This lack of judgment while biking — about anyone’s age, race, gender identity, body type — was a key theme that came up while we talked. “We deserve to get around,” Seaarra says. “We can be fast or slow, we can use our bodies as mobilized vehicles to get around without having to rely on cars.”
Seaarra grew up in suburban Illinois, where getting around meant biking or walking — a lot. “I’m talking miles!” she laughs. Her mom had a car, but if Seaarra wanted to hang out with friends or go to the park, she had to get there on her own two feet or by bike. Looking back, she estimates she walked four or more miles a day and quickly, too: “I’m still a fast walker to this day.” As she got older and became a mom herself, biking turned into a way to share that same foundation of movement and freedom with her kids. Riding to the park or packing up for a picnic became a simple, joyful and affordable way to spend time together.
“I started biking on my own with my kids, but then I started connecting with people and building community,” she says. “That’s when I realized biking could be a tool for our liberation and a way for us to enjoy time with our loved ones without the pressure of spending more money to be the equivalent of love. Quality time in nature is love, especially with family.”
Seaarra found independence and freedom through biking, but also recognized the power of community building it brought her. This is what led her to Biking with Baddies: “Women can come together, ride with each other, support one another, spend time with their families, and just be without judgment. A space where we can have fun.” she says. For Seaarra, creating this space is essential, not just for her own well-being, but for others in the community who need a safe, uplifting place to belong.
“Safety and access are not equal for everybody,” Seaarra told me. “Women, especially women of color, face all these challenges when it comes to getting around.” As listed on its website, Biking with Baddies was started by a Black women (Seaarra) for Black women. Seaarra pinpoints unsafe infrastructure, caregiving responsibilities and harassment as some of the major barriers to feeling safe and having real access. “If we really want to change micro-mobility systems, we have to design them for everyone, not just the most privileged.”
Much of Seaarra’s work is focused in communities like North Minneapolis. “On Penn, there’s so much trash, and the trees hang so low over the sidewalk that you have to get off your bike and step off the path,” she says. “The solutions have to involve everyone. Walking, biking, running, whatever.”
Community building has been central to Seaarra’s holistic approach to outdoor access. “Going out in nature can be dangerous for women. It stands out to me that so many women want to be out biking, walking and connecting with the earth, but they can’t always do that because it’s unsafe.” That’s why Biking with Baddies focuses on riding together, building confidence in a group setting so that women can carry that sense of security when they’re out on their own.
Seaarra describes herself as “an auntie looking to connect with other aunties,” continuing the momentum of the community she’s found in BWB. “Aunties are the nurturers and the protectors. We step in, do the hard work, answer the tough questions and make sure nothing gets missed.”
When she’s not facilitating or organizing, Seaarra loves finding new ways to get outside. She’s recently discovered a love for bikepacking and the joy of “being in the saddle for a long time.” She also loves meditating, teaching yoga and deepening her mindfulness practice. Right now, she’s reading “Set Boundaries, Find Peace” by Nedra Glover Tawab and listening to “Snow on tha Bluff” by J. Cole.
Cindy Winters: Mankato
Cindy Winters has had a long and varied career in public health, which has given her a deep interest in our built environment and how it impacts our health. “I got involved with public policy because I could see that the studies show people who bike and walk more are healthier,” says Cindy, who lives and advocates in the Mankato area as a board member of Greater Mankato Bike and Walk Advocates. “It really hit home to me that policy systems and environment are underlying factors that affect how we move in our communities.”
Cindy has used her penchant for connecting research and policy to built environments as the chair of BikeMN’s advocacy committee and a member of its board. “I’m retired,” says Cindy, “I’ve worked at the state and local level with governments and I just get how they operate. So it’s a natural fit to continue with advocacy – it’s my passion.” She brings much of that passion with her when advocating for walkability in her home of Mankato, and to the state capital working on policy like decriminalizing jaywalking. She’s also dynamite at finding the right words to describe things in an inclusive and relevant way. The original title of this project was “Bike Aunties” but Cindy pushed back on me, saying: “If you call it Bike Aunties, then you’re leaving out all of the other people who don’t bike.” Cindy, who does bike for recreation and transportation, is also an advocate for transportation and walkable communities.
Her public health background drives much of her personal advocacy as well. “Data shows women don’t ride bikes as much. I would say it’s because we are taking kids with us, caretaking, always running errands, getting stuff for our families.” Which is why she advocates against the term “cyclist” when possible. “The word ‘cyclist’ evokes a certain vision,” she told me, “a guy in lycra biking really fast. I mean, that’s not mobility.”
The fact that our environments, built by and for traditional male roles, are largely built to make taking a car the easiest option is not lost on Cindy. “We don’t take into account how much extra time and stuff it can take: finding parking, getting the kids in the car. When people find out there are things you can add to your bike, like a rack, a trailer, or a child’s seat, for example, it can be life changing.”
When I asked her about her experience with active mobility as a woman, she said: “I’m old enough that it’s the story of my life. I grew up with brothers. I worked with the ‘good old boys club’ in so many of my jobs.” Cindy cites her patience and sense of observation as key to making inroads when it comes to getting her point across. “I went to all the city council meetings I could, I took notes, I observed, so that when I brought forth an issue I knew what angle to take. I was prepared.”
Cindy reads books about transportation (authored by men and women) and loves to continue learning about built environments. Two books she recommends are “There Are No Accidents: The Deadly Rise of Injury and Disaster” by Jessie Singer and “Walkable City: How Downtown Can Save America One Step at a Time” by Jeff Speck.
“Transportation affects every aspect of our lives,” Cindy told me, “and I like to learn more so I can get people excited about it.” She also enjoys listening to mysteries while she walks her dogs or takes a long drive. And while she has consented to being in an article entitled “Aunties of Active Mobility,” Cindy adamantly does not want to be called “auntie.” “I hate it when my nieces and nephews call me Aunt Cindy. I’m just Cindy.”