Hi, everyone. Thanks so much for coming out. I am truly, truly honored to be here at National Geographic headquarters. So, let's be clear. I did not go to Afghanistan intending to ride a mountain bike. I don't think anyone goes to an active war zone and thinks, “if only I had brought my lycra and my single-speed. You know, what was I thinking.” No, I started in Afghanistan, my first visit in 2008 to work with women and girls. Afghanistan is repeatedly ranked by numerous indexes as the worst place in the world to be a woman. And yet, as a country where I have focused my attention for the last seven to eight years because I believe that women and girls are the future. Not just in Afghanistan, but around the world.

Afghanistan is a country that begs to be explored. It's insanely beautiful. And I'm sure there may be one of two of you that have been able to see the country in the 60s and 70s when it was part of the tourist trail. It was literally part of the hippie trail. It had great marijuana, and people were traveling through to experience this in the 1960s and 1970s. It has a history with the Silk Road. There's a lot of sports in Afghanistan now that are open to women and girls. Bikes are the anomaly. Cycling is a sport that is inherently taboo for women and girls. This is a shot from 2008. And this while she is in a burkha you have women in headscarves as well riding side saddle, riding horses side saddle. Riding motorcycles side saddle. Regardless of their dress they are not allowed to straddle a bike seat, motorcycle seat, or a horse. It is considered culturally obscene. And no good girl would do this.

As a matter of... I live in Colorado and point of fact I'm a mountain biker. It is the sport I have come to love. It is the sport that keeps me sane and grounded. And I started to explore when I was in Afghanistan this concept that was presented to me on my very first visit of being a hybrid gender. In Afghanistan, as a foreign woman, I obviously do not blend. I stand out and what I found was rather than a hindrance that was actually one of my greatest assets. Because I wanted to work with women and girls but in Afghanistan the men are the gate keepers. And what I found was that I was considered an honorary man. They knew I was a woman, but yet they treated me like a man. They conversed with me like a man. They invited me to dinner like a man. So, over the next four-five years I started pushing on those gender barriers and enjoying the interactions that I had with Afghan men. Laughing and joking with them. Fishing with them in the Panjshir River. They've allowed me to ride horses. This is a Buzkashi horse. If a woman rides a horse, the idea is that that Buzkashi horse will never compete again. So, it was a huge honor to be able to ride this horse that later competed in that game and did well.

And it was only really a matter of time before I would decide to bring my bike to Afghanistan. And on my third visit in 2009, I brought over my single-speed 29er. And experimented in the Panjshir Valley. I'd been working there, asking people if they thought it would be okay if I rode a bike I mean, would that offend them, and tried to source that out. Everyone was supportive of the idea. And I went in an area where I knew that it was clear of land mines, that I knew was... relatively safe and where the locals knew me. And I started doing little rides just to experiment what would happen if a girl rode a bike.

Afghanistan is one of the only countries in the world where girls and women are not allowed to ride. It's not illegal like it was in Saudi Arabia. It's simply not allowed. The men that I encounter are so flabbergasted and so overwhelmed with curiosity that the normal barriers that we have are just blown away. So, security guards, Afghan National Police, the Army, they've all ridden my bike. I may have ridden theirs if they had one. And what I realized was that in that sharing, that I could maybe finagle a back door. And in one case in point it was Darul Aman Palace. Darul Aman Palace was the king's palace in Kabul. It was... it became ground zero during the Civil War before Taliban times for a lot of different base camps for Mujahedin fighters, there's bullet holes all throughout Islamic graffiti inside. I wanted to visit inside and see what the inside had looked like, desperately. And I kept going back every visit. I've been there 19 times now, and I, every single time was like I'm going to get in. It's going to be a different day, a different guard charm him, he's going to let me in. And, no, never. So, I had my bike one day and went for a bike ride with a friend up to, and just did hot laps around Darul Aman Palace. We were just riding around... the roads. And this man comes up. Turns out... through the access of “I'm on a bike, you're on a bike, let's talk bikes.” He's the gardener. He's been the gardener since he was nine years old. He says that he's 88. But in Afghanistan very few people know what their real age is. But he says he's 88, that he's been the gardener since he was a young boy. So, he's seen everything. He's like little nugget of history embodied in an amazing man who immediately said, well, “why are you here?” I said, “well, I just... I'm fascinated by the history of this place. I've always wanted to go inside.” And he walks over, he's like, “go give him your bike.” And walk, and not give it to him, give it to him. Like, “let's give it for a ride.” So, I asked the security guards if he wants to ride my bike. They come out, discover the joys of disc brakes. And he face plants. And I think we've ruined any chance that I've ever had to get in this place. And he dusts himself off, and shakes, kind of embarrassed. But he's blood-free, thank goodness. And all of them take, there's three security guards, they're Afghan National Police, guarding this place. They open the gate of barbed wire, let me in, not just me, myself, but me, myself, and my bike. And allow me and my bike to go inside and ride up and down the halls and experience what was once one the most incredibly beautiful places in Afghanistan. The King's Palace. But it was one of those experiences where you realize that again, it's access, it's a human connection. 

Everywhere I ride you create a little gang. You attract young boys on bikes. They surround you, they call out to you. Some throw rocks, some aim them low so it's just to get your attention, some aim at you. Most of them want to just ride bikes with you. What I found was that you attract more attention, but you're attracting the good kind of attention. You're attracting camaraderie, you're attracting joy. The problem for me was every single ride realizing that girls were unable to do this. This was the view of the girls. They're watching me ride, they're watching the joy, they're watching the boys ride, and they're not allowed. And it's heartbreaking, and it's... unfair. What I started to look at was... the question that would come up is “does it even matter whether girls ride bikes.” So girls can't ride, aren't there bigger issues? The bike was a key component of our own women's rights movement in the US. And I started digging back into our own history of the Suffragettes and what was the reaction when US women, when American women started riding bikes. You know, Susan B. Anthony, one of the, you know... the voices of that time, the fact that she says that it was a tool that has done more for emancipating women than anything else in the world, I mean... that's astounding. Much like the young women in Afghanistan that are now riding bikes.

I found out that there was a Men's National Cycling Team. No one I knew had ever heard of such a thing. Men and boys ride everywhere, you see them... everywhere, across the streets it's the most common mode of transportation. But never girls. But they're not, they're never doing it for sports. Cycling is not an Afghan sport. Football and cricket are the Afghan sports. And so, I asked to meet this young man. It turns out he was a waiter at a cafe that I had gone to before. And then the really fascinating thing was he found out that I rode bikes and invited me to come for a ride with the team. Of course, I immediately say yes. Although I am a little nervous about riding on the Afghan highways. Trucking, it's a trucking route. You've got the big Pakistani jingle trucks blowing by. There's no rules of the road. Most Afghans have not taken a drivers license test. And we meet at this petrol station. As we're all gathering, you see boys starting to come from different directions. The coach arrived in his car. And he's got his... assistant with him. A young woman, beautiful, strong features. She looks tough. And he's furious. Why has nobody told me that there's a foreign woman coming to ride with the men's team? It's putting her at risk, it's putting you at risk. And he's like, in my face, yelling at me. And once he gets it out of his system 'cause that very kind of Afghan to just get it out, then he shakes my hand, he says, “welcome. Okay... Why are you here?” And I said, “well, I ride bikes. I used to be a sports trainer in a prior life. And I'm a mountain biker. And the boys, you know, invited me to come and ride with them. I didn't mean any offense, they didn't tell me anything about you. And, who is this woman with you?” And he says, “well, this is Mariam. She's my assistant, but she's also on the Afghan National Women's team.” I'm like, “women's team... How did this come to be? I've been looking for women for three years. I've never met one family that would allow their girl to ride a bike. Or that... any girl I've ever met or woman who has ridden a bike.” And he said that when he started the men's team, which is pre-Taliban time. And then had to stop because of the Taliban time, he had wanted to start a girls' team. He didn't see any reason not to. And he started with his own daughters. As is always the case, it's you know, that family connection. He wanted his girls to experience the joy of riding. I asked if I could meet the team. Of course, he allowed and I met with the girls. And said, “how can I help?” I mean, this... we are kinda coming full circle in my journey here. Like, how do I help support these young women?

This is exactly what I had always hoped was that we'd find a way that we could normalize bikes so that we could get girls bikes to get to schools. And so that we could reduce the gender violence. So that when girls are walking the gauntlet in an urban environment where they're getting acid thrown at them, where they're kidnapped, where there's rocks thrown, where they're being attacked, we can give them a really simple tool. When they're in rural areas and can't access medical care or can't access a school they have the ability to travel a greater distance. And we need, then we need fewer resources, we don't need as many schools if we can bring more people to them. Then we can spend that money on more teachers.

So, I first started with equipment. Women's side of Giant Bicycles 'Liv' donated over 60 bikes. Before the bikes were delivered, I got the chance to ride with the girls. And it was probably the best day that I've ever had in Afghanistan. I can easily pinpoint the worst days I've had in Afghanistan, and this by far is the best. This is Mariam. This is, you know, his assistant, his right hand woman. And she is the strength of the team. She is tough as nails. She's been run over by a motorcycle. She has crashed numerous times. She has been called every name in the book. She's been insulted multiple times over the past three or four years that she's been riding bikes. These girls, this is the Afghan highway coming out of Kabul are doing this with great risk. But they're doing it not just for themselves they're doing it to inspire other girls to ride. So, I hired a little truck, brought all the bikes, bussed in the girls to the province of Bamyan. And we rode out. We did a few laps around the city to kinda get the feel of the bikes. And played with the idea of riding together for the first time because we didn't have to watch out for potholes. We weren't, you know, avoiding cars and trucks and we looked-- Okay, what's it like to ride in a peloton tight, what's it like to draft off of each other, what does that mean, how does that work, lessons for me as well as a mountain biker, not a roadie. And the girls started to look like a team. For the first time, they were riding together. And while there's barriers between me and Afghan men that are eliminated when I ride a bike, the barriers that are also there between Afghan women of just... you know a little bit of quiet, little bit of distance and formality. When you're on a bike that is out the window. These girls are singing Bollywood tunes and dancing on their bikes and shaking. They're joking, they're nudging each other, they're nudging me, they're shouting, you know, teasing coach. Acting like any other girl and I get to be a part of that in a way that I have never been able to connect with Afghan women and girls.

Nazifa is studying to be a midwife. And is wanting to work to save women's lives and children's lives. But she also wants to compete in the Olympics. And the reason that she says that she wants to do that is not for personal gain. It's because she wants to show the world that Afghanistan and this is her words, is more than drugs and violence. She wants to show that there are opportunities. And it comes back to everything I have ever seen in Afghanistan that keep me going back and keep me believing that change is possible, because her face kind of... says it all. That hope is always more powerful than fear. All of them have said at multiple times because I have always checked in with them one, as “don't continue to do this just because I'm supporting you. Make sure that you're doing this because this is the risk you want to take because you love it, and I will continue to support you, but you are never letting me down if you don't want to do this anymore, if for some reason the security changes.” And every single time each one of them have said, “change does not happen by staying at home.” They realize that they are on the front lines. They realize the risks they take. Much more so than I... could ever understand. I get to go and come back here because I have a passport and I have a child here and this is my home. What's been really heartwarming for me has been while the team is doing amazing things to break open this taboo, what's really phenomenal is there's two or three groups of girls that are learning to ride bikes without a coach, without any male influence, maybe a brother here and there. They're banding together and riding bikes in an effort to change it on a social level. Their specific goal is not to race, their specific goal is it takes boys 20 minutes to get to school, it takes us an hour or hour and a half, that's not fair. We should be able to ride bikes, too.

And so what happened in Bamyan was I was back there in Jul-- June, and I rode with two girls, who were riding bikes and wanting to teach others to ride bikes so that they could get to and from the Women's University because the bus line had stopped. In September, nearly 40 girls took to the streets with t-shirts that said, 'Right To Ride'. And Mohammed, who is one of the Men's National Cycling team members was part of this. And it shows that men are a huge part of this equation. That men and boys need to be supporting women and girls, need to be working together. And that they are working together. I mean, this is probably one of my favorite photos of that ride. There's an incredible quote that has really stuck with me. And I think that it really represents the work that I do and how I feel about this whole campaign is, “change happens when those who are unaffected are as outraged as those of us who are.” And that's what it takes. It's about realizing that it's not always personal. But that you need to be outraged. And that we need to band together to believe that hope is more powerful than fear. And that change is possible, no matter where that is. Thank you for coming.