Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, June 2005; 34; 344
By Jeffrey L. Kidder
University of California, San Diego
| “ . . . if
messengers are speaking through their style, the question is
not simply what are they saying, but why are they saying it?” |
Using
a social world’s perspective, this article
looks at the style of New York City bike messengers. Combining the
works of Hebdige and Biernacki, it is argued that messenger style is
intertwined with messenger practice. Five stylistic elements are
analyzed: riding behaviors, the use of helmets, bicycle choice,
clothing, and language. In each case, evidence is presented to
illustrate how a liminal social position and an outlaw character is
expressed within the signs messengers display.
Star Tribune writer
Hannah Allam (1997) once noted, “It was only a
matter of time before the fashion world got hip to bike messenger chic,
a distinctive style that is equal parts hip-hop, skateboarder, and
punk” (p. D1).
What is most striking about this statement is that bike messengers have
a style at all. Stranger still is the fact that there is an entire book
dedicated to messenger fashion. Messengers Style (Bialobos 2000) is a
collection of photographs introduced by fashion historian Valerie
Steele. The fact is, bike messengers, those “maniacal and dangerous”
(Lee 2001, 14–1) men and women who “bring such thrills, chills, and
spills to New York’s streets and sidewalks” (Goodman 1986, C12), do,
indeed, have a very distinctive style. As Allam puts it, “These urban
antiheroes come complete with tattoos, body piercings and a story for
every chipped tooth” (1997, D1).
We speak through our clothes (Eco 1973). If all cultural objects are
texts offering themselves to be read, what is messenger style
communicating? Numerous sociologists have addressed this question with
other social groups. From punks (Hebdige 1979) to mountain climbers
(Mitchell 1983) to truckers (Ouellet 1994), the stylistic choices of
various social worlds have been detailed. Such studies analyze the
contested terrain agents must negotiate to demonstrate their cultural
proficiency. Unfortunately, sociologists rarely address why a social
world adopts
its particular symbols. The analysis of style must go beyond the
cataloging of meaning and attempt to situate such meaning within an
understanding of practice (Biernacki 2000).
I address this gap in the cultural literature of style—the connection
of style with practice—by conducting an ethnographic study of bike
messengers. Style is composed of three main elements: demeanor, image,
and argot (Brake 1985). I am interested in tracing the “maps of
meaning” encoded within objects (Hebdige 1979). More important,
building from an understanding of culture in action (Swidler 1986;
Biernacki 2000), I argue that the stylistic choices of messengers are
best understood within a discussion of the urban environment and the
messenger’s location within the city. That is, if messengers are
speaking through their style, the question is not simply what are they
saying, but why are they saying it? In answering this question, I first
provide a brief overviewof previous sociological studies about style. I
then explain my research site and methodology. Next, I argue that
bicycles occupy a liminal space within the urban environment. From this
understanding on liminality, I tie my analysis of messenger to style
(specifically, riding behaviors, the use of helmets, bicycle choice,
clothing, and language) to messenger practice.
THE SOCIOLOGY OF STYLE
In discussing his
research on style, Ewen (1999) writes, “I was about to
tackle a subject that was at best, amorphous; a subject with no clear
shape to it, and lacked the kind of concreteness that has shaped the
catalogs of knowledge that scholars and students depend upon for
intellectual guidance” (p. 3). Hebdige (1979), of course, provides the
best known attempt at putting a sociological meaning to style. As a
member of the Birmingham Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies, he
focused on post–World War II British youth subcultures—most notably
punks. For Hebdige, style is at the heart of a subculture because it is
“pregnant with significance” (p. 18). In the case of punks, the
contradictions of bourgeois consumption and England’s industrial
decline were played out in reappropriated symbols. Trash bags became
dresses and safety pins were used as jewelry. Whatever insights Hebdige
has to offer on style, unfortunately, are overshadowed by his failure
to enter into the life world of his subjects. Muggleton (2000), an
English punk himself, says of Subculture: The Meaning of Style, “I
fought my way through it until the bitter end, and was left feeling
that it had absolutely nothing to say about my life as I had once lived
it” (p. 2).
Analyses of style are a regular component in qualitative sociological
inquiries. Ethnographies on mountaineering (Mitchell 1983), horse
distribution.racing (Case 1984), punk rock (Fox 1987; Muggleton 2000),
outlaw motorcycling (Wolf 1991), trucking (Ouellet 1994), and the
British goth music scene (Hodkinson 2002) all include discussions of
style.
The work of Mitchell and Ouellet provide useful comparisons for my
argument. Unlike the work of Hebdige, Mitchell’s ethnography of
mountain climbers is the product of numerous years of participant
observation. While not his explicit intention, in discussing how
mountaineers construct their social world, Mitchell analyzes style. In
an age of planes, helicopters, and various automated gadgets, making it
to the peaks of mountains in itself is not impressive; what climbers
care about is how a person makes it to the peak. In this sense, the
whole of mountaineer identity is located within a discussion of style.
For example, if a personwas somehowable to parachute to the top of
Mount Everest, this would not make him or her a “mountaineer.”
Likewise, choices of what clothes to wear, what routes of ascent to
take, what tools to use and (most important) not use are paramount
within the climber’s social world. A climber with a new ice axe is seen
as a neophyte, while a climber with an old rope is seen as a fool.
According to Mitchell, climbers carefully manage their image (through
the use of symbols) to portray themselves as experienced climbers.
In attempting to understand the strict work ethic of truckers, Ouellet
(1994) provides another excellent discussion of style. For Ouellet, the
“super trucker’s” sense of identity is rooted within his idealized
image of the trucker. For these men, “styling” in a shiny Peterbilt is
worth more in self-esteem than the higher paying union jobs driving
less prestigious rigs. The question of trucker style, however, goes
deeper than the make of a truck (and the amount of chrome which adorns
it). Like Mitchell’s mountaineers (1983), truckers must negotiate a
contested terrain of style. That is, just as some equipment is
appropriate for some climbs but not others, truckers must choose when
to break traffic laws and when to put in extra time for the company. A
slow trucker gets no respect, but a trucker with too many speeding
tickets is seen as irresponsible. Likewise, super truckers must work
hard for their employers, but at the same time, they do not want to be
seen as company dupes.
Despite their different socioeconomic positions (highly educated
upper-middle class vs. less educated working class) and orientations to
the activity (leisure pursuit vs. occupation), both mountaineers and
truckers handle style in a similar manner. That is, Mitchell (1983) and
Ouellet (1994) demonstrate that each social world has a style, but
despite appearances, neither style is ready-made. “Style is a visible
reference point by which we have come to understand life in progress
[emphasis in original]” (Ewen 1999, 23). Climbers and truckers must
actively make decisions about what symbols to use in varying
situations, and it is within this constellation of symbolic choices
that style is demonstrated. Culture provides agents with a disorganized
array of objects that they must selectively use (like tools from a tool
kit) in constructing strategies of action (Swidler 1986). Ultimately,
cultural signs cannot be understood in isolation from cultural
practices (Biernacki 2000).
Neither Mitchell (1983) nor Ouellet (1994) attempt to connect meanings
to the actions that sustain them. We must not only ascertain that
truckers value polished chrome while mountaineers value tattered
clothing but also attend to “the pragmatic relations between signs and
the organizations of practice [emphasis in orginal]” (Biernacki 2000,
309). A cultural analysis of style must move beyond mere descriptions
and explanations of symbols. If action and meaning are in fact
intertwined, then sociology cannot separate style from the social
practices that create it. To go back to Hebdige (1979), “if styles are
to catch on, if it is to become genuinely popular, it must say the
right things in the right way at the right time. It must anticipate or
encapsulate a mood, a moment” (p. 122). That is, styles must hold the
“objective possibility” of reflecting the social worlds from which they
sprung (Clarke 1975, 179). The approach used in this article grounds a
semiotic reading of signs with ethnographic fieldwork. Through this
method, I attempt to “classify the means by which agents connect
representations to practices as they engage in social conduct”
(Biernacki 2000, 302).
RESEARCH SITE AND METHOD
I conducted research for
this article in New York City between June
2002 and June 2003. With the intention of gathering data, I found
employment as a bike messenger. Throughout the day—Monday through
Friday—I directly participated in the daily realities of messenger
life. More important than the work hours themselves for this research,
however, was the non-work time I spent with messengers. It is during
social gatherings and other off-work events when the meanings and
styles of being a messenger are discussed, contested, and represented.
I hung out with messengers after work in parks and bars, and I went to
messenger parties. I raced in alleycats—unsanctioned bicycle races held
in open traffic—and I went on group rides with other messengers.
Through such active participant observation, I was as integrated as a
sociologist could be in this particular social world. While I did have
an academic motivation in working as a messenger, it should be made
clear that my participation within the messenger world was neither
forced nor faked. To the contrary, my lifelong interest in bicycles and
alternative transportation melded seamlessly with the messenger
lifestyle.
During the course of my fieldwork, most of the messengers with whom I
came in contact were unaware of my research; this was a matter of
necessity. In New York City, a messenger crosses paths with hundreds of
messengers a day. The numerous individuals that helped form my
understandings of messenger style could not all be approached to sign
consent forms. Messengers with whom I had reoccurring contact were
informed of my sociological interest. To protect the identities of the
various messengers discussed in this article, pseudonyms are used; the
exception to this rule are messengers cited from other sources. I
obtained the vast majority of data for this article through informal
interviews.
I unobtrusively took notes throughout the day and at social events.
Upon returning home, these data were compiled into my field notes.
During the workday and during races, parties, and other social
gatherings, casual conversations provided the truest glimpses into
messenger beliefs, ideologies, and opinions. To this end, I avoided
formal interviews and instead allowed my questions to be answered by
normal talk within the social world. This line of reasoning follows
Mitchell’s (1993, 2002) observations on fieldwork.
1 In the following discussion of bike messengers, I am analyzing an
occupational subculture within the larger messenger culture (see Trice
1993). For most of New York’s more than 2,000 messengers, being a
courier starts and stops with the workday. These messengers fall
largely
outside of my analysis. This discussion centers around couriers who
view being a messenger as a lifestyle. I estimate this group to
comprise approximately 15 percent of the total New York City messenger
population.
These “lifestyle messengers” socialize mostly among themselves,
participate in messenger races (i.e., alleycats), and use bicycles as
their primary form of transportation (even when notworking). Moreover,
while the majority of bike messengers in New York are black and
Hispanic males, the majority of lifestyle messengers are white males.
It is worth noting that while messengers are almost exclusively men
(approximately 99 percent), the majority of women I observed on the job
were also part of the lifestyle.
I have conceptually distinguished lifestyle messengers because my
sociological interest is cultural, not occupational. I approached
messengers from a social world perspective (Strauss 1978). While
working as a messenger is a requirement for entering this world, it is
not the occupation itself I am interested in—it is the symbolic
practices of its participants. This matter is underscored by the fact
that many lifestyle messengers have long since left the occupation but
are still integral members of the social world. Furthermore, in
answering my questions about symbols, action, and meaning, it is the
lifestyle messengers who provide the starkest examples of a unique
“messenger style.”
There are numerous factors influencing messenger style. Obviously,
race, class, gender, age, and nationality effect the meanings and
actions embodied within courier symbols. As Muggleton (2000) has
argued, “Our compression of the world can only ever be empirical,
partial, and one-sided” (p. 14). The analysis offered in this article,
therefore, does not claim to capture the vast complexity of the bike
messenger world.
Instead, I provide one particular analysis of style. My argument does
not negate the quintessential sociological factors of race, class, and
gender. I do, however, attempt to highlight another thread within the
“web of significance” (Geertz 1973, 5), which is culture. This is to
say, social scientists cling tightly to particular variables but
equally ignores others (see Agar 1996). While the more typical
sociological concepts are certainly at work within messenger lives, the
factors discussed belowshould not be ignored or subsumed within
convenient constructs.
Regardless of how lifestyle messengers are (unwittingly) “doing” class,
race, and gender, it must also be acknowledged that other factors are
at work. Such an acknowledgment only expands the explanatory power of
our discipline.
LIMINALITY: STRANGERS IN
THE URBAN GRID
Bike messengers work in
the business districts of congested cities (New
York, San Francisco, Boston, Philadelphia, etc.). Most couriers work
for messenger companies that are contacted by firms needing immediate
deliveries. Even in the age of e-mails and faxes, there are still
countless items which must be transported physically, in a timely
manner. In New York, messengers routinely carry advertising proofs,
videos and film, architectural blueprints, model portfolios, contracts,
and legal documents. Messenger companies dispatch these jobs to their
riders via radio, cell phone, or pager. Couriers work autonomously,
crisscrossing the urban grid, making their pickups and drop-offs. Paid
piece rate, messenger work provides a dangerous and unstable source of
income. At the same time, however, couriers take great pride in not
just their work but their lifestyle. As one messenger states, “It is
the greatest job in the world. I hope I am doing it until I’m 50. The
only other thing I’d really like to be is a stuntman” (quoted in
Duvall, 1991, 22).
In making deliveries, New York couriers can be found riding at high
speeds and performing daredevil acts. One veteran messenger gave me
this advice: “in New York, you just have to do crazy shit. You just
gotta ride!” During myfirst weeks as a courier, I was awestruck by
other messengers’ bravado. “It is amazing to watch these guys run red
lights. It really is graceful. I think it is one part technique, three
parts perception, and a few more parts raw nerve” (field notes, June
21, 2002). Emphasizing the importance of such nerve, Reilly, a
long-time messenger, titled her memoirs of courier life Nerves
of
Steel. Because of their actions, messengers have been labeled “the
speeding bane of NewYork’s pedestrians and motorists” (Lyall 1987, 58),
and newspaper editorials have
suggested plunging umbrellas into the
courier’s spokes (Rosenthal 1987). The piece-rate system is the
most
commonly cited reason for the messenger’s behavior. As one New York
Times editorial states, “What motivates those
cyclists who whiz along
the blind side of traffic lanes, plunge through intersections against
the light and otherwise terrorize New York City drivers and
pedestrians? For the worst offenders, the answer is money” (NewYork
Times 1983, A34). Less often discussed— but what every urban
cyclist
knows—is that the built environment provides a structure for such
behavior.
Generally speaking, city planners are ambivalent about bicycles. Roads
have been constructed for automobiles, and sidewalks have been put in
place for pedestrians. Bicycles, however, exist “betwixt and between”
(Turner 1964). Cyclists are denied access to sidewalks and are refused
equal rights to the roadway. 2 As such, bicycles must ride in
a liminal
space—the shoulder of the road—a space suitable for neither car nor
pedestrian. Moreover, while technically subject to the same traffic
laws as automobiles, enforcement of bicycle violations is inconsistent
and minimal at best. For instance, Christy, a messenger of less than a
year, calculated that she ran more than ten thousand red lights before
receiving her first (and only) ticket.
It is this very nonstatus of the bicycle that allows messengers to
perform their job.Walking is simply not fast enough, and cars, despite
their potential speed, are easily jammed in traffic. Forced into a
liminal zone, cyclists have the freedom to maneuver anywhere their
bikes can fit. As Turner (1964) states,
Liminality may
perhaps be regarded as the Nay to all positive structural assertions,
but as in
some sense the source of them all, and, more than that, as a realm of
pure possibility whence novel configurations of ideas and relations may
arise [emphasis in original]. (p. 7)
By ignoring bicycles,
lawmakers
and architects confine cyclists to “invisibility,” but in this
state—”neither living nor dead”—cyclists have the potential to travel
in ways denied to the visible (see Turner 1964, 7). Chuck, a messenger
since the 1970s, fondly remembers the early years when cyclists could
do whatever they wanted. By the mid- 1980s, “They started enforcing
laws and making laws.” However, even today with members of the New York
Highway Patrol specifically assigned to ticket bicycle scofflaws and
with several major roadways painted with designated bike lanes,
messengers are still able to take advantage of their liminal status.
That is, messengers mix with the ebbs and flows of traffic, darting
between the “legitimate” users of the street and sidewalk.
Because they flamboyantly disregard traffic laws, bike messengers can
be understood as outlaws, and many messengers proudly proclaim
themselves as such. In differentiating himself from commuters and
competitive cyclists, Shane, a former messenger, commented, “They don’t
understand. You and I have experience with the outlaw side of cycling.”
The outlaw defines himself outside the bounds of ordinary society but,
at the same time, is an overt product of that very society (Shamblin
1972). In this sense, the outlaw is comparable to Simmel’s (1950)
stranger. The stranger is neither a native nor an alien. He is
estranged in his own homeland—”near and far at the same time [emphasis
in original]” (p. 408). Using Simmel’s conception of the stranger, we
can connect the liminal space in which messengers ride with the outlaw
character messengers espouse. The stranger is “no owner of soil” (p.
403), just as the cyclist has no designated lane in which to ride.
Furthermore, couriers do not want such a lane. While alternative
transportation groups advocate bike lanes, messengers religiously avoid
them. Messengers do notwant to be confined to one small strip of the
road. Messengers relish their liminal position and the opportunities it
affords them.
Pedaling through the city, the bike messenger is outside the bounds of
ordinary society. Laws and regulations are rarely enforced, and the
messenger can travel where he desires, as fast as he dares. As Culley
(2002), a former messenger, writes of his experiences, “Red means red
and green means green: I keep moving regardless. I am free to move as I
wish, piercing gridlocked intersections, snaking between cars, and
running the wrong way up one-way streets. I get juiced by this” (p.
189). Conversely, when the messenger dismounts his bike and enters the
client’s office, he is inside society and forced to conform to laws and
regulations. On the surface, this may sound trite, but the lawlessness
and feelings of freedom offered by bicycle travel is sharply punctuated
by the strict conformity the messenger faces when entering a building.
Take, for example, Culley’s comments about an elevator ride to make a
pickup.
I was in a steel box
now, realizing that the world, like a projected
film, runs across my neutral surface evenly. I was not in control here.
I knew that. My heart gulped as it endeavored to know itself once again
on this mythic descension into the modern world. (p. 35)
These feelings are
compounded by management policies that attempt to
segregate messengers from building tenants and customers. Messengers
are often refused access to main entrances and are forced to use
service elevators. Most larger office buildings do not even allow
messengers to make pickups or deliveries directly to clients.
My own field notes are filled with stories of clients angrily snatching
packages from me, security guards accusing me of violating building
policies, and secretaries annoyed and offended by my presence. For
example,
I got frustrated
several times today trying to find just where
exactly I was allowed to enter the building. One guard made me turn
around walk a block around the building just so I could use the freight
elevator (an elevator that was ten feet and in plain sight of where the
guard was standing). To make mattersworse, when the freight elevator
arrived the elevator guy barked, “What do you want? Why don’t you use
the regular elevator.” I started to walk to the other elevator, only to
have the guard start yelling at me again to go back to the freight
elevator. The freight operator, in turn, looked at me as if the
confusion was entirely my fault. (field notes, June 23, 2002)
At the same time, my notes are also filled with comments of
exhilaration of the job.
When you catch a
wave of traffic it is pretty awesome. All of the
sudden you can just be flying through the city. You can cover serious
distance in no time. I feel pretty safe in these situations, but, damn,
there are so many things that could possibly go wrong. And, at that
speed it could get messy. Of course, that is half the reason it is
thrilling. Your legs are just pumping as hard as possible and your mind
is racing, looking ahead for approaching dangers. (field notes, June
18, 2002)
Messenger work itself,
therefore, encourages a liminal reading.
Messengers are continually thrust back and forth between freedom and
conformity. On their bikes, they are outside (literally and
figuratively), and dealing with clients, they are inside (inside a
building and expected to obey social norms and building regulations).
MESSENGER STYLE
If style is connected to
action, then the symbols messengers choose to
wield must hold the “objective possibility” of portraying themselves as
strangers—a liminal status and an outlaw character (Clarke 1975, 179).
Most important, it must be remembered that for Clarke (1975) and
Hebdige (1979), styles were not accidental or circumstantial. Styles
become styles (as opposed to individual particularities) because they
“encapsulate a mood” which is understood to be objectively real. I
shall analyze several key aspects of messenger style: riding behaviors
(demeanor), helmets, bicycles, clothing (image), and language (argot).
“RIDE IT LIKE YOU STOLE
IT”: RIDING BEHAVIOR
It is in how messengers
ride their bikes that the outlaw image and
liminality are most readily expressed. As a Chicago Tribune headline
declared, “Pedestrians
may swear at bicycle messengers, but companies
swear by them” (Duvall 1991, 22). The point being, messengers
irritate
the average citizen, but they provide a necessary service. Messengers
do not simply break traffic laws and manipulate the rules of the road
to their economic advantage, however. Messengers commit such offense
with the sort of reckless abandon that implies a death wish. One
messenger, in fact, had a sticker on his bike which stated this
explicitly: “Deathwish.” I noticed several other messengers with
stickers that read, “Ride it like you stole it” (i.e., take undo
risks). A journalist attempting to work as a messenger for a week
reported,
“I’m scared. I want to do 5 days, but I’ve made it through 4
without a mishap. The odds are against me” (Cuerdon 1990, 84)
Wolf (1991), in writing about outlaw motorcycle clubs, argues that “the
threat of death” (p. 52) is the most salient distinction between the
average citizen and the outlaw biker. Bikers are aware of the dangers
and do not consider themselves impervious to mortal harm. “However,
their collective image is one that disdains timidness and refuses to
give any hint of fear or self-doubt. Riding a hog is an area where they
have an edge, and they certainly don’twant to give outsiders the
impression that they are hedging their bets” (p. 52). The riding style
of messengers can be understood in a similar manner.
Within the messenger social world, the best messengers are the ones who
take risks, handle their fear, and as a result ride the fastest. For
example, one night afterwork, I rode with Andreas, a messenger of four
years, through Times Square (an incredibly congested and dangerous
section of Manhattan). Bob, another messenger, flew past us down
Broadway. In speaking about the congested traffic in the area, Andreas
commented, “I never go as fast as I need to through here.” Andreas was
obviously envious of Bob’s speed. He continued, “I’m just not brave
enough.” Rick, a messenger of three years, believes that the best
messengers knowhowto take the risks of which Andreas iswary. For
example, during the workday, Rick would often have informal races with
another messenger whom he did not like. “Whenever I see him, I race
him. . . . I’m sure he used to be fast, but he’s not willing to take
the
risks I’ll take. His time has passed.”
Couriers’ risk-taking is extreme during illegal alleycats, minimally
structured races held in open traffic. Generally speaking, participants
are simply given a manifest by the race organizers (who are usually
messengers themselves) that lists specific “checkpoints” throughout the
city that the racers must travel. The first person to make it to the
finish line with every destination “stamped” on their manifest wins
(race organizers are positioned at every checkpoint and stamp each
rider’s manifest). In determining the fastest courier, alleycats
emphasize the liminality of bicycles by testing the racer’s ability to
negotiate city traffic as fast as possible. Unlike a professional
cycling race, which tests a racer’s ability to travel a specific course
in a specified manner, alleycats require innovative solutions that
transcend existing structures for travel (e.g. sidewalks, one-way
streets, red lights, etc.). Because these innovations are often illegal
(and clearly dangerous), alleycats also promote an outlaw image. This
outlaw character is further emphasized by an atmosphere of intoxication
more reminiscent of a party than a sporting event.
“I’M NOT GONNA DIE”:
MESSENGERS AND HELMETS
The way a messenger rides
might be argued to be purely a matter of
economics. That is, the faster messengers ride, the more money they
make. Certainly, that is the easiest explanation of why messengers are
“scaring
the public to death” (New York Police Commissioner
BenjaminWard, quoted in Finder 1987, A1). It is in the attitude of
helmets, however, that the truly symbolic importance of risk and the
image of risk management is understood. While many New York messengers
do wear helmets, the vast majority do not. At my first messenger race,
I overheard a conversation that sums up the prevailing attitude toward
helmets. The wife of one of the race organizers was talking to another
friend during the awards party: “shewanted him to wear a helmet. . . .
It is the one night he wants to hang out and have fun with his boys,
and do you knowhowmuch shit hewould get for that?” Thiswoman knewthat
the racer would be looked down upon if he followed his girlfriend’s
advice. On another occasion, Vinny, a well-respected veteran courier,
rode into Tompkins Square Park wearing a helmet. Another veteran
courier loudly yelled, “rookie!” The insult was a joke, but there was a
message behind it. Veteran couriers do not need to wear helmets because
they “know how to handle themselves in traffic.” Rookies, on the other
hand, do not. For example, Mike, an inexperienced messenger, moved to
New York and originally wore a helmet. In his first weeks, he had
gotten into two serious accidents. One accident sent a pedestrian to
the hospital. The other accident was with a car and his bicycle was
completely destroyed. The latter accident also broke his helmet in two.
His helmet, by all counts, saved him from a serious head injury and
perhaps saved his life. After this second accident, Mike decided to
stop wearing a helmet. When I questioned him about his rather strange
logic Mike replied, “Yeah, but I’ve learned a lot about how to ride in
New York since then.”
There is no functional reason that messengers abstain from helmet use.
I have heard people claim that in the summer, helmets are too hot, but
these couriers did not start wearing helmets as the weather cooled. The
general courier disdain for helmets is symbolic. Most messengers refuse
to wear helmets as a demonstration of their skills and experience.
Messengers readily admit the dangers present in their job and candidly
discuss the injuries and deaths of their friends and coworkers (see
Culley 2002; Kugelmass 1981; Reilly 2000; Sutherland 2001). A small
study in Boston found that couriers have an injury rate three times
higher than meat packers (Dennerlein and Meeker 2003). Conversely,
messengers, while not ignoring these dangers, choose to boldly confront
them. As Eric, a messenger since 1988, states, “I’m not going to die
riding. I’m way past even thinking about ever getting smashed. I mean,
yeah, maybe my hand will get broken, maybe, but I’m not going to die,
not doing this” (quoted in Sutherland 2001). This suggests that for
messengers, riding helmetless is neither reckless abandon nor a denial
of death. It is, instead, a statement of feeling “beyond that”—of
having the skills and experience to survive. This, again, echoesWolf’s
(1991) comments about outlaw motorcycle clubs. “The outlaw considers
their face-it-head-on-and-tough-it-out approach towards danger and
discomfort to be another line of demarcation between themselves and the
citizen. . . . Bikers face their vulnerability with a cavalier
attitude, a style they feel has a lot to do with the courage to face
risks and endure uncertainty” (pp. 52–53). In refusing to wear helmets,
messengers assert a “face-it-head-on-and-tough-it-out” image that
differentiates themselves from more timid (or safety conscious)
cyclists. Furthermore, this image expresses comfort with the dangers
accompanying the bicycle’s liminal status.
“REBELS WITHOUT BRAKES”:
BICYCLE CHOICE
Messengers can ride any
type of bicycle. The majority of couriers ride
road or mountain bikes. The archetypical machine, however, is the track
bike. Track bikes are designed for racing on a velodrome (an oval track
with banked corners). The most notable aspects of a track bike are its
fixed gear and lack of brakes. The cog attached to a track bike’s rear
wheel is “fixed” and cannot coast; if the rear wheel is moving, so are
the pedals (and vice versa).Afixed gear allows the rider to control the
bicycle’s speed through the pedals. This should not be confused with
the coaster brakes found on children’s bicycles. The sensations of
riding a fixed gear are foreign to riders accustomed to freewheel (i.e.
standard) bicycles. However, once the rider masters the required
skills, “fixes” offer a new dimension of control and a different method
for the rider to relate to his or her machine. There are several
practical reasons messengers adopted track bikes.Track bikes are
exceptionally light, require little maintenance, and have few
components that can be stolen. More important than the practical
justifications, track bikes also create more risks and require more
skill and experience to ride.
Messengers pride themselves on their “track bike riding skills.” Efren,
a messenger of three years, joked about track racers, “They don’t know
how to [stop quickly]! They couldn’t ride in traffic. They’d be
scared!” Chuck comments, “If anyone says anything to me about riding
fixed, they are just jealous because they can’t do it.” A discussion I
had with a former Olympic track racer confirmed these opinions. While
he had attempted to ride his track bike in city traffic a fewtimes, he
considered the practice far too dangerous. Emphasizing the fears of
outsiders, a group of messengers who regularly trained for alleycats
referred to themselves as “Rebels Without Brakes.”
Messengers often have “track bike only” races to demonstrate their
particular talent. As Rick noted, “You can get away with a lot more on
a mountain bike. You have to know what you are doing on a track bike.”
Or as one veteran messenger (who rides a road bike) exclaimed upon
seeing meon a track bike, “A rookie on a track bike!?!” For this
messenger, track bikes are for people who have mastered the city
streets, and rookies lack such skill. In recent years, track bikes have
become popular among nonmessengers. Such popularity has offended many
messengers.
Adam, a messenger of six years, snidely comments, “Track bikes are
trendy now.” Indeed, it is this trend that allowed me to learn to ride
fixed years before I worked as a messenger. Despite the growing
popularity, track bikes are still considered the designation of a
skilled bike messenger.
Kugelmass (1981) argues that messengers adopted track bikes
specifically because they are harder to ride. While I believe that the
practical advantages to a track bike are perhaps more relevant, there
is a great deal of truth in Kugelmass’s claim. For instance, several
messengers and I were practicing for an upcoming race in Central Park.
In the warmer months, Central Park is always crowded with cyclists in
the evening. Many of these cyclists are serious riders with
top-of-the-line racing machines. As we stopped to rest, Mike commented
that, “Man, we’d be so much faster if we had gears.” Mike’s point,
however,was not that we should stop riding track bikes. Quite the
opposite, Mike was implying that we were working harder than the other
cyclists in the park.
“I STILL DON’T LOOK LIKE A
CYCLIST”: MESSENGER CLOTHING
In New York, few
messengers dress in full spandex. At the same time,
however, the selective appropriation of cycling apparel is common.
Cycling shoes, gloves, jerseys, and caps are seen frequently but used
cautiously. Henry admitted he originally wore spandex to work because
he was excited about being a bike messenger. Reflecting back, he
nowshakes his head telling the story, “I looked like a dork!You can’t
walk into a bar after work dressed in spandex.” Many messengers do wear
spandex shorts (or spandex pants in the winter), but they wear regular
shorts or pants over them. This allows for the comfort of cycling
shorts without looking like a cyclist. Klaus, a long-time messenger,
provides a telling example. I ran into Klaus in a messenger center and
I commented on the frigidly cold weather. Klaus, who was dressed in
baggy black Carhartt work pants and jacket, gave me some advice. “I
don’t really like cycling gear, but in the winter, it is warm.” He then
pulled up his jacket to show a cycling windbreaker worn underneath. He
concluded by proudly stating that even though he did wear cycling
clothing, “I still don’t look like a cyclist.” This combination of
urban clothes and cycling gear supports the concept of messenger style
as bricolage (Clarke 1975; Hebdige 1979). It allows messengers to be
seen as “ a
collision between the Tour de France field and the cast of
Mad Max” (Wood 1994, 2)—as cyclists with an attitude.
While street clothes are far more common than cycling gear, these items
have been modified. One example is long pants that have been either
cutoff or rolled up just past the ankles. In New York, messengers often
roll only their right leg (the side with a bike’s chain wheel).
Lifestyle messengers tend to wear these pants when they are notworking.
In fact, wearing messenger clothes when one is notworking is perhaps
the biggest indicator of the lifestyle messenger. Joan, for instance,
once chastised me for wearing different clothing when I was notworking.
As she put it, “Just be yourself.” For Joan, there is no distinction
between her work clothes and her leisure clothes. She always dresses
like a courier because she is a courier. This is especially telling if
a courier’s pants are merely rolled up and they do not bother to roll
them down. At messenger parties, I noticed such behavior numerous
times. On one occasion, a messenger showed up to a party in new slacks
and a stylish leather jacket. These were not clothes he would work in.
He spent the entire duration of the party with his right leg rolled up.
He had ridden to the party on his bike and spent several hours
socializing without ever caring to unroll his pant. On another
occasion, Andreas was preparing for a party at his apartment. He
showered and put on clean clothes. Even though he would not be riding
his bike for the rest of the evening he still rolled his pant legs up
(he also put on his cycling shoes—shoes with stiff sole and a cleat
that mounts to the pedal of a bicycle).
A common addition to the pants of a bike messenger are patches on the
seat. The number of hours a messenger spends riding causes incredible
wear on the rear section of pants. To prolong the life of these,
clothes many couriers reinforce the thinning fabric with patches. Two
of the messenger I met, Mike and William, were skilled sewers. Mike had
constructed his own messenger bags andWilliam actually participated in
a sewing circle in Tompkins Square Park. While both Mike’s and
William’s patches were expertly sewn, an intentional effort was made to
draw attention to the alterations. Mike had sewn large star patterns to
the seat of his pants.William used bright and contrasting colors to
reinforce several pairs of his army surplus shorts. Likewise, Andrea
used neon green fabric to mend his dark blue jeans. This practice is
analogous to Mitchell’s (1983) discussion of mountain climbers. For
Mitchell, the issue is not bricolage, but experience. Mountaineers sew
patches on their clothes to denote past climbing experience. On a more
surface level, messengers use patches in much the same manner—that is,
to demonstrate enough street experience to have worn out one’s pants.
Like rolled and cut pants, many messengers wear their patched pants
when they are not riding bicycles.
Beyond demonstrating experience, messenger dress is a symbolic
embodiment of the cultural ambivalence in which the messenger is
enveloped. Couriers, like Simmel’s stranger, are inside and outside
mainstream culture—at the same time. As with Hebdige’s (1979) punks,
courier fashion embodies a contested battleground of divergent
meanings. Cycling apparel is within; it denotes competence. Cycling
caps or cycling shoes, for instance, conjure the images of dedicated
professional cyclists. Conversely, patched and cut-off pants negate
such a clear image. They are from without. These symbols denote an
imperfect fit: fabric that has fallen apart too soon and inseams that
were designed too long. I am not arguing that patches, cut-off pants,
or other forms of clothing modification are inherently outside of
mainstream fashion. Rolling up one pant leg, for example, is a hallmark
of the New York hip-hop scene (see Holloway 1996). Likewise, patches
often adorn high-priced jeans. I am arguing, however, that all styles
offer themselves to be read (Eco 1973; Hebdige 1979) . Furthermore, the
modifications messengers make to their clothes when juxtaposed with
cycling apparel provides a reading that cannot be subsumed under the
rubric grunge, punk, or hip-hop fashion. Therefore, we can understand
messengers as bricoleurs. Messengers could just dress as cyclists (as
some do). Or messengers could just dress in ragged street wear (as some
do). For lifestyle messengers, however, neither style accurately
represents the group. As such, they have introduced “noise” into the
system (Hebdige 1979). They are neither competitive cyclists nor
commuters on bikes. They are something in between and, at the same
time, something totally different. Within the lifestyle messenger’s
appropriation of symbols, therefore, we see a novel assembly of signs
constituting a unique reading, and this reading tells the story of
liminality.
“WHAT’S YOUR 20?”: LANGUAGE
Like all social worlds,
the messenger world has a unique language. Some
words and phrases locate the user within a particular city or region,
while others are used internationally. Within this colorful dictionary
are terms like double rush, red hot (packages that must be delivered
quickly); fix, fixed, fixie (a track bike); alleycat; skid, skip
(locking the rear wheel of a track bike to slow down or stop); wave
(catching a series of green lights and riding with a flow of traffic);
and line (the route a cyclist takes through traffic). Additionally,
messengers use a great deal of cycling slang (like “Campy” for
Campagnolo, a high-end component manufacturer) and radio codes (like
“10–20” for location). Two notable terms among lifestyle messengers are
“work” and “ride.” Both words are used synonymously with “messenger
work.” A telling example of how these words are used occurred during my
first weeks working as a messenger. Adam and I were discussing his
yearlong stay in Los Angeles (LA), and I did not understand the
meanings applied to “work” and “ride.”
Jeff (J): So did you ride in LA?
Adam (A): No I did not work in LA.
J: Were you going to school in LA?
A: No, I moved out there for a job in graphic design.
[later in the conversation]
J: You didn’t ride your bike when you were out there?
A: Of course I did.
In this conversation Adam
thought I was asking if he worked as a
messenger in LA. Conversely, I was confused as to why he started
talking about work when I was talking about riding bikes. Later, when I
attempted to ask Adam why he had not ridden his bike in LA, he was
completely confused as to why I assumed he had not. Likewise, when I
told NewYork messengers I lived in Boston for a year, theywould ask if
I “worked” in Boston. I would get funny looks when I told them about my
job at a community newspaper. Eventually I learned to tell people that
“I lived in Boston for a year, but I did not work there.” In such a
statement, it is understood that I did have a job, but I had notworked
as a bike messenger.
What does conflating work with riding tell us about messenger meaning?
Among lifestyle messengers, the spheres of work and leisure are highly
integrated (see Reilly 2000; Sutherland 2001). This is to say,
messengers spend their nonwork hours in largely the same manner that
they spend their work hours: speeding through the city on bikes. Since
messengers spend a great deal of their leisure time riding, I would
argue that reducing work to “riding” is indicative of the messenger
lifestyle colonizing the logic of work. In other words, messengers do
not so muchwork as they simply ride their bikes (whether they are
riding their bikes to a party or to make a delivery). The boundaries
workers construct between their occupational time and leisure time is
crucial to understanding how individuals construct identities
(Nippert-Eng 1996). Thus, messengers can be seen as constructing
identities that conflate their work and leisure selves. By using ride
and work synonymously, messengers not only demonstrate an integration
of work and leisure, but also liminality. The rationalization of labor
assumes the clear demarcation ofwork and leisure time (see Nippert-Eng
1996). For the courier, riding forwork and riding for fun all becomes
just riding. In doing so, messengers define their activities outside of
cultural classifications. They are “no longer classified and not yet
classified [emphasis in original]” (Turner 1964, 6)—they are strangers.
The words “civilian” and “suit” also connect the messenger to Simmel’s
(1950) stranger. Civilians include anyone who is not a messenger; suits
are business people. “Suit” is an obviously pejorative term—reducing a
person to an inanimate object. Furthermore, this object is associated
with a way of life couriers abhor. As Rick explains, by being a
messenger, “I’m not sitting behind a desk being strangled.”
Borrowing from military terminology, civilians are non-messengers. They
have their own look and values all separate from messengers.
José, a messenger of two years, exclaimed upon seeing me dressed
in my nonwork clothes, “What are you doing dressed like a civilian?”
Steve, a former courier who now runs a messenger company, explains the
distinction by breaking society into four main categories. “There was
civilians. The police—the paramilitary. Then you have criminals. Then
you have outlaws. Bike messengers fall under the realm of outlaw.”
Steve segments society in this manner to explain why negative
stereotypes of messengers did not concern him. “A lot of people spit on
you. . . . It didn’t bother me because as far as I was concerned, I was
part of a different culture” (quoted in Sutherland 2001). For Steve,
messengers are outlaws—neither civilians nor criminals. Again, we see
messengers as strangers—something betwixt and between.
CONCLUSIONS
Building from the idea of
a cultural tool kit (Swidler 1986), this
article has sought to connect the style of bike messengers with the
daily practices involved in messenger life. “The significance of
specific cultural symbols can be understood only in relation to the
strategies of action they sustain” (p. 283). Sociologists have long
catalogued the various styles of the people they study. Mitchell (1983)
and Ouellet (1994) offer particularly compelling accounts of how
mountaineers and truckers manage various symbols in the construction of
identity. Unfortunately, neither work adheres to Biernacki’s (2000)
criteria of linking signs to action. Mitchell demonstrates how a
mountain climber can use a battered ice axe to promote a specific image
of the self. Likewise, Ouellet details the importance of truckers
modifying and cleaning their trucks. What is missing in their
discussions of style, however, is a connection between the actual
practices of truckers and mountaineers with the meanings imputed upon
their symbols. Neither Mitchell nor Ouellet explain why truckers have
come to value meticulously shiny trucks while climbers value
intentionally ragged attire. Both groups cherish experience and
dedication, but both groups express this knowledge and commitment in
contradictory ways.
In their exploration of subcultures, the Birmingham Centre for
Contemporary Cultural Studies emphasized the theoretical linking of
action and meaning. “Style . . . cannot be seen in isolation from the
group’s structure, position, relations, practices, and
selfconsciousness” (Clarke 1975, 176). Through semiotic analysis,
Hebdige (1979) attempted to link punk symbols to the realities of
Britain’s industrial decline. In recent years, the methods of the
Birmingham School have fallen under ill repute (see Muggleton 2000).
For all his efforts at decoding the meaning of style, Hebdige neglected
the subjective meanings assigned to symbols—armchair theorizing
replaced actual fieldwork.
Combining traditional ethnography with Hebdige’s (1979) semiotic
approach, I have examined messenger style in relation to messenger
practices. We can understand that courier symbols are not randomly
selected from Weber’s (1949) “meaningless infinity” (p. 81). To the
contrary, while humans have the potential to assign any meaning to any
object, cultural influences promote certain readings. For messengers, I
have detailed a physical liminality—the nonstatus of bicycles on city
streets (see Turner 1964). Furthermore, I have explained how couriers
manipulate their liminal position to swiftly negotiate the congested
urban environment. Messengers, therefore, become both strangers (Simmel
1950) and outlaws.
Messengers make their money, and consequently define their occupational
niche, and (for lifestyle messengers) define their selves by skillfully
using a machine that slips between cracks in the law (and spaces
between cabs and pedestrians). By using track bikes, messengers
exemplify their status as strangers by using an object that is at once
familiar (a bicycle) and threateningly foreign (a bicycle without
brakes). The bricolage of messenger clothing—neither street style nor
cycling apparel—furthers this strangeness. The language of bike
messengers reaffirms a liminal status. Messengers ride, for work and
for play, and define themselves as noncivilians—as outlaws. Messenger
symbols, therefore, become an extension of the messenger’s social
location (Clarke 1975). As Swidler (1986) and Biernacki (2000) would
argue, messenger signs reflect the social actions that sustain them.
Future cultural analyses of style should continue to highlight the ties
between symbols and practices. Conversely, Hodkinson (2002) has argued
that style does not inherently reflect the actions of a social world.
Can other groups be subjected to the same analysis offered here? Or as
Hodkinson notes with regard to goths, should style be considered as
something purely aesthetic? There is always the threat that semiotics
can be more imaginary than imaginative (Cohen 1980). However, if human
life is a series of symbolic interactions (Blumer 1969), then exploring
the connections between action and meaning is paramount to our
discipline. As more ethnographies address this question, the nuances of
practice and representation will become clear. In teasing out such
connections, the elusive link between agency and structure will come
into greater focus.
JEFFREY L. KIDDER is a graduate student at the
University of
California, San Diego. His research interests are focused around the
problems of meaning construction in postmodernity. Journal of
Contemporary Ethnography, Vol. 34 No. 2, June 2005 344-367
DOI: 10.1177/0891241605274734 2005 Sage Publications
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