Women Who Ride Aren’t Extraordinary

Motorcycle, ATV, side-by-side, snowmobile, Sea-Doo, karting, auto racing — no matter the machine, we’re still being told how “brave” we are. We’re not brave. We’re just here.

There’s something deeply strange about being congratulated for turning a key. Whether you’re on a motorcycle, behind the wheel of a UTV, or riding a snowmobile on a trail — the reaction is always the same: “Wow, you do that?” As if simply being a woman makes it exceptional.

I’m not exceptional. I’m a rider. I’m a driver. I’m a girl who loves engines. That’s it.

But here’s where we still are in 2026: a woman sending an ATV through the mud, pushing a snowmobile in the backcountry, nailing a tight corner in karting, going on a solo motorcycle road trip, or riding a Sea-Doo as the driver rather than the passenger — it’s still a topic. It raises eyebrows. It generates comments. And when the media covers it, it’s still too often with a tone of wonder, as if they’ve just discovered a new species.

We’re still there. Being a phenomenon rather than a normal thing.

THE NUMBERS THAT STING

• 10% — Women’s share in motorsports, across all levels (More Than Equal)
• 1.5% — Professional female drivers holding a racing license worldwide (FIA, 2023)
• 1 to 5 years — Average length of a woman’s motorsport career, versus 12+ years for men
• 13% → 7% — Female participation drops from 13% in karting to 7% in formula and GT — we lose women as they move up the ladder

These numbers don’t lie. The gap isn’t a lack of talent or interest. It’s a lack of space. A lack of funding. A lack of visibility. And above all, an environment that, without meaning to, tells us every single day that this isn’t quite our world.

THE DAILY REALITY WE ALL LIVE

At dealerships, they talk to my partner before they talk to me. At the gas station, they ask if it’s my bike or my boyfriend’s. At family dinners, they tell me to “be careful” as if the guys at the table aren’t riding the same roads. At gear shops, they hand me something pink before asking what I’m looking for. And on social media, a photo of me on my machine generates more comments about my appearance than about my ride.

When I show up to a group ride, they assume I’m someone’s girlfriend. When I talk about mechanics, they check with a guy to see if what I said is accurate. When I want to try a more powerful snowmobile, they suggest I “maybe start with something lighter.” And when I post an ATV video, the first comment is rarely about my technique…

It’s not that we want a seat at the table. We’re already at the table. We just want people to stop looking surprised to see us there.

These aren’t insults. They’re reflexes. Automatic responses built over decades of marketing that put guys on every poster and girls in bikinis next to the machines. And reflexes can sometimes cause as much damage as intention.

BUT THINGS ARE MOVING

It would be dishonest to say nothing is changing. In 2025, nearly 80 women raced in Formula 4 championships around the world — a record. The World Women’s Championship (WorldWCR), created in 2024, is already in its third season in 2026 with a growing field.

At the Grand Prix Ski-Doo de Valcourt, new women’s classes were added in snowcross. Initiatives like Girls on Track, F1 Academy, and Women in Motorsports North America are opening doors that were closed ten years ago.

Here in Quebec, we’re lucky to have a motorsports culture stronger than anywhere else in the country — 64% of Quebecers are in favor, compared to barely 50% in the rest of Canada. We have snowmobile and ATV trail networks among the largest in the world. We have events, federations, communities.

The foundation is there. We just need women to be fully included — not as a separate category, but as a given.

The reality is we’ve been here a long time. We ride, we drive, we fall, we get back up, we keep going. On pavement, on trails, on water, on snow — we’re here. We buy our own machines, make our own mechanical choices, plan our own routes.

Women win motocross championships. Women cross continents on motorcycles. Women dominate in endurance racing. Women lead snowmobile expeditions in conditions where half the world would stay home.

And it’s not just in motorsports.

It’s the female mechanics who can diagnose a problem just as fast as anyone else in the shop — yet still get a basic explanation of how an engine works. It’s the female truck drivers who rack up thousands of miles alone on the country’s highways. It’s the heavy equipment operators moving tons of earth every day on job sites where their presence still surprises people. The engine, the wheel, the machine — no matter the industry, the reflex is the same: surprise before respect.

We’re everywhere. And everywhere, we’re still waiting for normality.

And yet, every time one of us accomplishes something — in any motorsport — it’s presented as some kind of heartwarming anomaly. An exception that confirms the rule.

I refuse that narrative.

WHAT NEEDS TO CHANGE

To the industry: stop offering us “women’s machines” and offer us machines. Period. Train your sales staff to talk to the person standing in front of them, not the person they came with. Develop quality gear in sizes that actually fit us — not pink versions of what already exists.

To the media: stop treating a woman who performs in motorsport as a feel-good story. Treat her like an athlete. Stop presenting us in constant contrast to men. By 2026, we shouldn’t need the phrase “first woman to…” anymore. We should just be the person who did it.

To the community: when a girl shows up to your ride, your club, your trail for the first time — welcome her the way you’d welcome anyone. Not with a condescending compliment, not with surprise, not with a question about who brought her. Just a nod and a “welcome.”

And to the women still hesitating: get on. Turn the key. Hit the throttle. There’s no right way to start. There’s no machine too big, no trail too tough, no group too advanced if that’s what you want. Don’t ask for permission. The only requirement is the desire.

A woman who rides isn’t extraordinary. She’s ordinary. And that’s exactly where we want to be.

So yes, let’s keep talking about women in motorsports. Let’s keep showing them, naming them, celebrating what they accomplish. But let’s change how we do it.

Not like it’s a surprise. Not like it’s a favor. Like it’s reality. Because the day we talk about a woman who rides the same way we talk about a guy who rides — no filter, no gender qualifier, no excessive wonder — that day, we won’t need articles like this one anymore.

Until then, we keep going. We ride. And we ask for nothing more than normalcy.

Cyn