If daring and determined were a person, they might resemble the spirit of Black travel history maker Bessie Stringfield. In 1930, the self-taught motorcyclist became the first African American woman to ride solo across the United States. Stringfield went on to complete eight long-distance solo rides throughout the 1930s and 1940s when traveling alone was anything but safe for a Black woman.
In an interview with the New York Times, her niece Esther Bennett recalls Stringfield as “worldly and wily.” As a woman riding a motorcycle, her mere existence defied the odds, consistently navigating public opinion around motorcycles being unladylike. Though she faced a Jim Crow South, white mobs, and doubled her bike as a bed when denied accommodations while traveling, Stringfield never gave up her ride. Once a hidden figure in mainstream Black history conversations, Stringfield’s unbounded life was a nudge in the revolution toward unapologetically moving about the country as a Black person.
Learn about the spirited woman whose well-lived journey of commendable firsts and barrier-busting tenacity continues to inspire Black and women riders.
Who Is Bessie Stringfield?
Remembering Bessie Stringfield the way so many did — as a skilled storyteller — gives some context to why the details of her early years remain a mystery. Accounts from Ann Ferrar, a friend and fellow motorcyclist who wrote about Stringfield in her 1996 book, infer she preferred it that way. Born in 1911, some sources say she was born Betsy Leonora Ellis, while others say her birth name was Beatrice White. Stringfield always recounted her birthplace as Kingston, Jamaica, though family members suggest she was actually from Edenton, N.C.
In the popular account of her childhood, Stringfield becomes an orphan at the age of five. Following her parents’ deaths, an Irish woman adopts and raises her (though Bennett also contests this). At 16, her adoptive mother gifted Stringfield her first motorcycle, a love that came naturally to her despite her lack of prior experience. From the time she climbed on her first bike — an Indian Scout — until her passing in 1993, Stringfield lived to ride.
Only three years later, at 19, Stringfield began tossing a penny on the map to ride to where it landed, according to the National Motorcycle Museum. Thus began a journey of unimaginable courage — numerous trips throughout America, often in the Deep South, and a cemented passion for motorcycles. Such an adventurous spirit naturally encountered its fair share of racism and prejudice, but also the altruism of Black communities necessary for survival.
In Ferrar’s book Hear Me Roar: Women, Motorcycles and the Rapture of the Road, Stringfield recounts, “If you had Black skin you couldn’t get a place to stay,” Stringfield said. “I knew the Lord would take care of me and He did. If I found Black folks, I’d stay with them. If not, I’d sleep at filling stations on my motorcycle.”
Road Trips In The Face Of Racism And Sexism
Stringfield’s life on the road grew from a personal interest to a professional occupation. Initially, she performed motorcycle tricks and stunts at carnival shows to earn a living. She later served as a civilian motorcycle dispatch rider during World War II, the only woman in her unit.
Landing the position required rigorous training, including weaving makeshift bridges from rope and tree limbs to cross swamps, though she never had to on the job. With a military crest on her own blue Harley-Davidson, Stringfield hit the road, transporting documents between domestic army bases.
During her four years of service, Stringfield continued to encounter racism on the road. One poignant incident – being followed and deliberately run off the road by a man in a pickup truck – paints a clearer picture of the real fears Stringfield faced in expressing her freedom. Accounts of Stringfield’s recollection of these memories illustrate a woman who learned how to cope, characterizing such trials as “ups and downs.”
Following the war, Stringfield settled in Miami, Florida, in the early 1950s. Though she had ended her long-distance rides, she continued to ride locally, quickly making a name for herself in the city. She founded the Iron Horse Motorcycle Club and became a licensed practical nurse (LPN). The local press was enamored by her stunts, such as riding while standing in the saddle of her Harley. Eventually, the community dubbed her “The Negro Motorcycle Queen,” which later changed to “The Motorcycle Queen of Miami.” Stringfield proudly carried the unofficial title through the remainder of her life.
A Legacy That Rides On
When not on one of the 27 Harleys she owned in her lifetime, Stringfield also lived a full life personally. She wed and divorced six times, keeping the surname the world knows her by from her third husband, Arthur Stringfield, at his request. Black Past reports Stringfield as saying, “He asked me to keep his name because I’d made it famous!”
At the age of 82, Stringfield died in Opa-laka, Florida, in 1993, leaving behind a legacy that lives on as a real-life hero’s journey of the limitless potential of breaking barriers. Nearly a decade after her death, the American Motorcyclist Association (AMA) instated the Bessie Stringfield Award in 2000, recognizing an instrumental individual in the motorcycling community. In 2002, Stringfield was also posthumously inducted into the Motorcycle Hall of Fame.
Though Stringfield’s legacy flew under the radar among historians and the motorcycle community, her impact is evident in the hundreds of women motorcyclists who have made cross-country treks in her honor. The influence of herstory is memorialized in comic books and museums, cementing her place in travel and motorcycle history. Her legacy as a pioneering motorcyclist continues to inspire women motorcycle riders and wander-filled women for whom the open road is calling.
