on my path to radicalization
Red bull, the internet and getting rad online
OH NO!
Dear reader!
It seems that I’m in trouble lately!
I’ve been radicalized by the internet.
The Al-Go-Rhythm keeps showing me things that are more and more radical.
One moment I’m merely watching someone talk about a bicycle, the next, I’m seeing dudes out riding dirt jumpers pulling gnarly tricks.
The more of this I watch, the more radicalized I become until finally all I see is a blur of big wave surfing.
The next thing you know, I’m shopping for a wing suit and calling it ‘self care’.
With all of this online high risk ideology, this athletic supremacy, it’s not long before Red Bull are declared a terror threat.
And this dangerous content?
This is toxic masculinity at its worst.
They call it ‘the manosphere’.
In this world though, there are no spheres - more hoops with spokes and hubs all organized in a network that seeks individual expression and freedom.
In this world, ‘doing the work’ means riding longer and more difficult routes.
This pipeline to extremism is everywhere.
It’s become quite awful.
Last week at the bike park I encountered chants of from the river to the sea, we all need an Allen key!
Worse were the stickers that I found on trees that read Black Flies Splatter!
Not long after that, I encountered a table labeled “Mutual Aid”.
There, they were handing out tents, blankets and knee pads because access to the trailhead is a human right.
And skinned knees?
A blight.
Do these criminals not know what they are doing to the children?
Anyway, after spending an evening watching Tickity Tock videos, I’m ready to lead through action.
As a radical, I’m calling for the end of bike lanes and of helmet laws - despite my neighbours lived experience with bike crashes.
I’m not here to debate.
I’m here to recruit.
Because this is how it starts.
You watch one dude send a big drop.
Then you buy a used helmet that smells like someone else’s fear.
Then you “just try” a little gap jump.
And suddenly you’re out here, doing the work.
Not the Instagram kind.
The real kind.
The kind where your lungs burn, your legs shake, and your ego gets sanded down by gravel.
So yes.
Get radicalized.
Drink the Red Bull.
Ride the harder route.
Take the jump.
Fall down.
Get back up.
And if you see a Mutual Aid table on the way out?
Take a knee pad.
Not because you’re a victim.
Because you’re going back in.