On Tuesday, I was given a pail, sponge, degreaser, and rags to clean bikes in front of the clubhouse. The clubhouse was a storefront, located between a convenience store/gas station and a small strip mall. Thus, there was a fair amount of auto and pedestrian traffic to observe the spectacle I presented. There were hostile stares and remarks in this working class neighborhood. At one point, a cop arrived asking what I thought I was doing wearing a bikini swimsuit on public streets. I mumbled I was working for the Lioness Motorcycle Club and was required to wear it. He gave me a disgusted look and walked away muttering about the city being full of queers. I felt threatened and like a deviant but unable to do anything about it. I had to take whatever reactions came and keep cleaning the bikes
