A motorcyclist on their bike with rings on and a flag behind them.

Dykes on Bikes: Riding with Pride

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“Every woman can understand that when you put 100 cubic inches of throbbing machinery between your legs and master it, there are few things more empowering than that,” says Jeri aka “Momie,” president of the Salt Lake chapter of Dykes on Bikes (DOB). The first chapter was founded in 1976 in San Francisco, when a group of 20-25 women on motorcycles led the annual Pride parade and protected it from protesters. There are currently 22 international DOB chapters, each with a nonprofit status that reflects the charity work they do for their communities.

“The motorcycle community is largely male-dominated and [there’s] a fair amount of testosterone-driven toxicity.

Two motorcyclists by their bikes while a Pride flag for their group, Dykes on Bikes, is hoisted.
(From L-R) Elle aka “Wolf Rider” and Jeri aka “Momie” hoist a Pride/Dykes on Bikes flag. Their Salt Lake chapter of the organization is in its second formal year of existence. Photo: Diego Andino.

The Salt Lake chapter is only in its second year of formal existence, but it has grown rapidly. The chapter plans to host sisters from around the world in 2026 for a cross-country ride, coinciding with the organization’s 50th anniversary. “We felt like there needed to be a unifying, adult, sapphic voice in Salt Lake,” Jeri says. “We’re about pushing the idea that there should be equality for everyone. That everyone should be respected and treated well, and we’re just not going to allow folks to hurt people in our presence.”

The women of Dykes on Bikes come from a wide range of backgrounds, from heavy industry to retail management to education to cancer research. About 70% of their members are veterans. “You can be genderqueer and you can be gender non-conforming.” says Kari, another member. “Trans friends are welcome as long as you’re okay with identifying as a dyke.” In order to join, you must start as a prospect with an assigned mentor and participate in the club for at least six months. At the end of the prospective period, the chapter will vote to grant you a motorcycle patch as an official member.

“I’m excited to have my presence known because women will see there’s this fierce group that will protect [them].”

The Dykes on Bikes provide security at many local Pride events and even when they’re not officially part of the security team, they often fall into that role. The group is called upon by other community members to address dangerous situations and prevent violence from escalating. “Sometimes women don’t want men to come help if they’re already in a situation where men are being abusive to them,” says Etta, who recently became a full-patched member. “I’m excited to have my presence known because women will see there’s this fierce group that will protect [them].”

A motorcyclist waves a Pride-themed rainbow fan while sitting on their bike.
Elle, aka “Wolf Rider,” is a regular rider for Dykes on Bikes Utah and also serves as the chapter’s treasurer. Photo: Diego Andino.

If you don’t have any riding experience, you can still join. They’ll teach you. “The motorcycle community is largely male-dominated and [there’s] a fair amount of testosterone-driven toxicity,” Jeri says. “But it’s cheaper than therapists and probably healthier than bartenders. I’m down to five motorcycles now. I’ve never had more than 18 at one time and I tell my wife that anything under 25 is not a dealership.”

“When you put 100 cubic inches of throbbing machinery between your legs and master it, there are few things more empowering than that.

Each member started riding at different points in life. Some started as kids, after buying a mini bike off a friend or fixing up a neighbor’s Tote Gote. Others started much later in life. “I started riding five years ago,” Etta says, “because the girl I was trying to sponsor to get sober was like, ‘Will you come ride with me?’” Kari was raised LDS in the suburbs of Sandy and came out during the pandemic. “I was like, ‘What’s a way that I can get around and see different parts of the United States? And what’s the gayest thing I can do in Salt Lake?” she says. Some of their members don’t even ride. “My fiancé is my backpack, meaning my rider, and she does not ride [herself],” says Elle aka “Wolf Rider,” the group’s treasurer.

Ultimately, DOB Salt Lake is a sisterhood of tough women who have seen a lot of shit and care about keeping people safe. Despite the current political climate, they haven’t lost hope. “We have a long history going way, way back,” Jeri says. “Dykes on Bikes does not take a step backwards. Ever.” Learn more and reach out to join the group at dobutah.org.

Read more about local feminist and queer groups:
Bridging Feminist Theory, Media Ethics and Queer Justice in Higher Education
The Rise, Fall and Revival of Lesbian Spaces in SLC