Bravery is Only the First Step

When I think of brave black women, especially those women in history who dared to be bold when it wasn’t safe for them, I think of Bessie Stringfield, the first Black woman to ride across the US solo. She later became a dispatch rider for the US Army during WWII.

Bessie Stringfield was born Bessie Beatrice White in Edenton, North Carolina. There are some inconsistencies regarding her actual birthday and name, but in her later years, she recreated her life, stating that she was born in Kingston, Jamaica to a black Jamaican father and a Dutch mother in March 1911.

At the age of five, Bessie’s parents died, leaving her to be adopted by an Irish woman. At the age of 16, Bessie received a gift from her adoptive mother, a 1928 Indian Scout motorcycle. In just three short years, at the age of 19, Bessie was traveling across the US, having taught herself how to ride. After her first trip, Bessie made seven more long-distance trips within the US, the lower 48 states during Jim Crow Era America, Europe, Brazil, and Haiti. Bessie would often toss a penny on a map, travelling to wherever it had landed.

Bessie’s travels not only encompassed her as a woman travelling alone, but as a Black woman travelling alone. Because of the social dynamic of the time, she oftentimes was forced to sleep on her motorcycle at filling stations due to her color; her jacket on the handlebars for a pillow and her feet on the rear fender. Bessie not only faced discrimination due to her skin, but also her sex. For her flat track races, she would disguise herself as a man, but was denied her prize money when she removed her helmet, showing that she was indeed a woman. Bessie was able to make money by performing in circus and carnival acts, showing a natural aptitude for trick riding by standing on her Harley while riding and hill climbing. Reporters attracted to the stunts dubbed her the “Negro Motorcycle Queen” and eventually the “Motorcycle Queen of Miami” when she bought a house in Miami, founding the Iron Horse Motorcycle Club.

Bessie found work as a civilian dispatch rider during WWII in the Army. As the only woman in unit, and not even in the line of duty, she had to compete demanding training maneuvers, learn to weave a improvised bridge from ropes, climb trees, and cross swamps. She did so with a military crest on the front of her blue Harley and a “61” as she dispatched documents between bases.

Despite the skill and bravery that Bessie was known for, because she traveled during the Jim Crow era as a single, black woman, she was not without facing dangers on the road.

During one such incident, Bessie was followed by a man in a pickup truck who ran her off the road, knocking her from her bike. Such dangers that would have felled and discouraged anyone else, Bessie merely found herself downplaying the severity of them and simply coping with each incident.

Bessie died in 1993, suffering from symptoms of an enlarged heart. Bessie handled the news by telling her doctor, who wanted her to stop riding, “I told him if I don’t ride, I won’t live long”. With those words, Bessie never quit riding.

At 33, I realize that I am no longer as brave as I once was. As a teenager, I would dance loudly and boldly in a crowd of strangers, even one incident where I danced with a friend in dead-locked traffic in DC on highway 95. Somewhere along the way, I lost my bravery, or as my friend has said to me “you’ve lost your muchness”. It wasn’t until April 2020 that I discovered who Ms. Bessie Stringfield was by watching Lovecraft Country – a show in which I can thank for the curiosity of many events and people of Black history that I was unfamiliar with- I saw Hippolyta in her car traveling alone, we both exclaimed in joy at seeing the depiction of Bessie, and I immediately rushed to educate myself of this awe inspiring woman on a motorcycle.

Two days later, I booked my first long distance trip with my son for a Christmas get away. Granted this isn’t Jim Crow America, this was something discomforting for me, and I forced myself to step fully out of my comfort zone. I booked my trip before I could talk myself out of it. I was sweating, my stomach cramping, and I was on the verge of tears, but determination saw me keep the trip, thinking of Bessie saw me wiling to travel that distance with my child.

December 23: 14 hours, a Prius, two suitcases, a cooler, Christmas presents, activities, and music, we were on our way. I needed sleep at one point, so like Bessie, I found a safe space to lay my head for an hour, then headed back on the road. My 10 year old and I, from Virginia to the bottom of Florida. 13 hours, 26 minutes, an extra hour because we got lost on the Florida parkway, but we made it.

Looking back at our trip, we had more fun than I could ever admit. I wasn’t the only one to find my muchness and be brave, my son challenged his fear of heights and participated in the Cirque du Soleil trapeze class, learned to kayak, and paddle boarded.

The year is now 2021, and I am planning another trip, this time with my sisters. I decided to travel some place I’ve never been before, which means I have to learn about a land I’ve never seen, and like Bessie, I will pack my bag and get on the road to another adventure.