Billion Worlds Lab

So, I’m researching the Broad St. Bullies! Why? And what does that mean? And what specifically am I researching about them? And how did I come up with this idea? Here’s my effort at answering these and more questions to explain how I began this process: 

When I first thought of researching the Broad St. Bullies (BSB), it was an idea of necessity. If you are in graduate school for sociology, and I am, you need to do research or something close to it… and you really ought to come up with a good idea as soon as possible. 

I had been workshopping some pretty dry and niche ideas about the interwoven effects of schools and neighborhoods on adolescent outcomes and, ultimately, feeling a little lame about the whole project. Every Thursday, I would sit in my contemporary sociological theory class, taught by our lab’s very own co-director, Dr. Frankie Mastrangelo, forcing myself into the contorted, confused posture of a fledgling graduate student who has all of the excitement and none of the know-how. The self-consciousness and nerdy formality that would grow throughout each three hour lecture are feelings that I could live with, even ones that I’d look forward to feeling, but also necessitated a little bit of a counterpoint when administered in this weekly dose. As the sun would set, I would always catch a whiff of despair. 

“This is the rest of your life, this is all you will ever be and do, you will be sitting in front of a computer, talking about shit nobody has heard of, making points nobody can understand, second guessing yourself, sifting through the detritus of the generations who have come before you and done the same thing, forever.”

Just a passing thought, never a fixation, but disconcerting nonetheless – and the reliable, repetitive timing of this feeling gave it a little more substance than my other pessimistic musings. Sitting in a dark room, having just logged off of our class’ Zoom call, I would take a moment to sit and stew, and then excitedly march into my living room. 

“You ready to go, man?”

This was, and is, my roommate’s standard greeting on Thursday nights – the night the Broad St. Bullies take over Richmond – or at least a couple neighborhoods. A longtime cyclist, my roommate took up the craft of wheelies and associated stunts about two years ago, spurred by his growing affinity for the Broad St. Bullies – a local cycling group in which the wheelie is almost a sacred ritual. I had joined him occasionally well before attending my first graduate class, but the group’s Thursday night ride-outs quickly became a constant once I began working towards a master’s degree. This was purely out of necessity. Feeling increasingly bogged down by my workload and increasingly alienating myself from my friends with rants about the panopticon, or the strength of weak ties, or some other sociological buzzword, attending BSB ride-outs became a place for me to get back to some simple, social, humane feelings that had felt a little lacking in this new phase of my life. 

Not to be understated, the opportunity to get outside and get moving after sitting in my stuffy room and staring at a screen all afternoon has clear, empirically proven merits for the body and mind – but beyond the value of getting some fresh air, exercise, and human interaction, there was something about the Bullies that appealed to me in a more holistic way.

From the first ride-out I attended, something about the Bullies felt familiar – not just relatable, but intimately entwined with something about me – or something about everyone. I guess that’s really what I want to understand about them. What about the Bullies gives me this familiar  feeling – the same one I get at a concert? Or at a festival? Or at synagogue? Or at a protest? What is it that these venues have in common? 

So, after about two months of musing on these questions, I decided that I could probably justify conducting research on the Bullies in the hopes of finding some kind of answer. It felt kind of silly the first time I thought about it – why should anyone else care about why I like the Broad St. Bullies? Moreover, it felt forced, like I was trying to awkwardly integrate the Bullies into a part of my life that they did not belong in. From the time I landed on the Bullies as a research topic, I have been on a quest to prove the sociological value of doing this kind of research, and like almost everyone, I began by diving into similar studies within the field.

Exploring existing literature on cycling groups, I found not only a substantial cache of relevant research, but also reassurance that the Bullies were not too small, too weird, too local, or too personal to research. From psychological explorations of small-scale, athletic rides, to sprawling ethnographic analyses of whole cycling scenes, I was delighted not only by the numerous examples of cycling sociology, but also by the remarkable diversity of theoretical and methodological approaches. 

The first big foothold I found in my efforts to tie the Bullies to some respected sociological concept was collective effervescence. The term, coined by Emile Durkheim, refers to a phenomenon occurring in group settings when people’s intentions, emotions, and actions become united, producing a state of heightened emotion, sociability, and cohesion within the group. For Durkheim, this phenomenon is not only an all-but-inevitable human experience with a spiritually fulfilling quality, it is also essential to the strengthening of communities and the formation of religions. This was a phenomenon I instantly recognized as occurring during Bullies ride-outs, in which hundreds of people are drawn into a state of unity as we perform the shared act of cycling, maintain a heightened awareness of others so as not to crash, and share the common intention of having a relaxing, safe bike ride in the city. Analyzing how ride-outs produce this state of collective effervescence felt like it could provide some answer as to why the Broad St. Bullies can feel so similar to concerts, festivals, or religious gatherings – these being some of the sites most commonly examined in the study of collective effervescence. 

Another solid mooring to the sociological canon came my way following some sage suggestions from Dr. Jesse Goldstein, who is also a co-director of this lab. Pointing me towards the work of Mikhail Bakhtin and subsequent critiques, expansions, and modifications, Dr. Goldstein alerted me to the concept of carnival and the carnivalesque. A carnival can be many things, and pin-pointing exactly what is and what isn’t carnival, what does and does not constitute a carnivalesque quality, is the subject of much literature on this topic. Broadly speaking, a carnival is a temporary state in which social hierarchies dissolve, typically sacred or serious entities are profaned and humanized, social norms and taboos are transgressed, self expression is taken to eccentric, often grotesque extremes, and those involved rejoice in the freedom and unity of this experience. 

Some common examples of carnival include mass protests such as Occupy Wall Street or Critical Mass and street festivals such as Brazil’s Carnival or New Orleans’ Mardis Gras. These events involve all major components of carnival but produce these elements in different ways. For example, Critical Mass, an international cycling protest, transgresses social norms and profanes serious entities by illegally overtaking public streets as a space for collective self-expression, while these same processes occur during Brazilian Carnival via the use of grotesque masks and costumes designed to satirize and critique Brazilian politicians, society, and culture. Many other settings, such as concerts, public art performances, and sporting events can be seen as carnivalesque even if they do not fully constitute a carnival. These events possess many elements of carnival, but either lack essential components or do not reach the intensity of a full fledged carnival. 

By my light, the Broad St. Bullies clearly generate a carnivalesque scene during their ride-outs. Much like Critical Mass and other mass rides, the group inverts social norms by overtaking city streets for leisure and socializing. Moreover, the free-flowing, convivial interactions between cyclists of all ages, races, and aesthetics that I have seen during ride-outs indicate at least some dissolution of social boundaries or hierarchies. Cyclists in costume, performing stunts, playing music, or piloting unique vehicles are all practicing some form of self-expression as part of a collective, and these expressions can often be eccentric, even verging on grotesque – especially during the annual Halloween ride-out. Detailing these carnivalesque elements of the Broad St. Bullies, identifying possible others, and understanding how these compare and contrast with the carnivalesque qualities of more commonly discussed settings is another key way for me to understand what is special about the group and how it produces similar experiences to protests, religious gatherings, and festivals. 

Another reason the Bullies intrigue me sociologically, and another reason they’re deeply important to me on a personal level, is that they’re inextricably linked to the culture and community of Richmond. With a route that takes participants through some of the city’s most historic and vibrant neighborhoods, a Bullies ride itself is a kind of tour of Richmond hotspots past and present. Getting this weekly exposure to the city’s diverse architecture, infrastructure, businesses, and people is something that has made me feel grounded in the city from my first ride-out. 

Of course, the people are really what makes the Broad St. Bullies a Richmond fixture. Ask around at any given ride-out and you’ll find creatives, business owners, local public school students, academics, unemployed folks, and retirees – a true melting pot of the city’s diverse populations. As a group, the Bullies have partnered with local restaurants and businesses to hold fundraisers and toy drives – both in support of the group and to help out community members. A gathering place unlike many others in the city, social boundaries, political alignments, and religious partitions seem to melt away during a Bullies ride, allowing the myriad of styles, ideologies, and personalities that make Richmond the city it is to coexist harmoniously for a brief time. 

Beyond all of this, the flashy optics of a hundreds-strong group of cyclists, many swerving through the crowd on only one wheel, have made the Bullies into somewhat of a symbol of Richmond. Talking to folks who live miles outside of the city, it’s hard to find even a semi-regular visitor to Richmond who has not heard of or personally encountered the Broad St. Bullies. Whether folks associate them with the frustration of blocked traffic or with the excitement of seeing a wave of cyclists ride past, the Bullies are familiar and evocative in one way or another for many locals, and capturing this piece of Richmond culture through a sociological lens feels important to me. 

So, one way to make this long story short is to say: I really like the Broad St. Bullies and I’m lucky to have come up with a couple good-enough reasons that VCU should let me research them. 

Another, more charitable way to put it: The Broad St. Bullies are an incredibly important and unique part of Richmond culture. They provide an opportunity to examine classic sociological concepts in a novel setting, which will contribute to a better understanding of these ideas and the Broad St. Bullies alike. I am lucky to be in a position where I can do this kind of work, which is not only deeply personally fulfilling but is also pertinent to my community and people I care about. 

Stay tuned to these blogs for more updates on this research!