Danger Is Literally Their Middle Name

New Zealander Robbie Danger Webb has become the first trans person to circumnavigate the world on a bike.

Hi,

This week was another week of the “students identifying as cats and shitting kitty litter trays” story being spouted as fact by idiots with platforms.

It’s frustrating to see. As I wrote way back in 2022:

“If you’re even slightly savvy you’ll know the cat article is an implicit attack of trans people and gender identity. It’s a fear-mongering, slippery slope argument that if we let people choose their gender, then pretty soon all our kids will be identifying as cats and shitting in the sandpit.”

I had to write another piece explaining how furry culture entered this myth. Of course here in 2025 a great deal of the population have given up on reading, so when I occasionally share these articles on social media, most people just react by repeating the disinformation back at me:

Part of me wants to scream into the void, knowing that Webworm can ever compete with the news organisations and massive podcasts repeating a clearly disproven myth that ultimately exists to shit on trans people.

So instead of screaming, I wanted to talk about something positive.

New Zealander Robbie Danger Webb has become the first openly transgender person to circumnavigate the world on a bicycle. Once they’ve painstakingly submitted receipts, photos and witness signatures — they’ll have set a new Guinness World Record.

Luckily for me, Webworm guest writer Josh Drummond knows Robbie really well — and so caught up with them for Webworm.

David.

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A Conversation With Robbie Danger Webb

by Joshua Drummond.

Robbie Danger Webb (photos: Sunny Gajadhar)

It’s a very weird time to be alive, and it’s often dangerously weird if you’re a queer or trans person. That’s why, a little over a year ago, I was amazed to learn that my mate Robbie Danger Webb — yes, Danger is literally their middle name — was planning to set a world record as the first trans person to cycle around the entire world. I thought it was incredibly brave, given that merely existing on a bike can be hard enough without considering being queer and trans.

Since Robbie set out on their record, the world has indeed witnessed a swell of regressive hatred, including trans and queerphobic legislation in the United States, the United Kingdom, and many other countries. I watched, usually while sitting on the couch scrolling Robbie’s Instagram, as they pedaled on, seemingly chased around the world by this wave of existential horror.

Now that they’re back in New Zealand — their daring world-first inexplicably ignored by nearly all of New Zealand’s mainstream media — I wanted to find out from them what their experience was really like.

You’ve just set a record as the fastest, and first, trans person to cycle around the whole world — which is objectively rad. But a lot of people would probably also say it was nuts or dangerous or both, so I guess I’ll kick off by asking — why?

I’ve been planning to ride my bike around the world for more than five years. It all started when I finished cycling the Tour Aotearoa, and I just felt like if only I had more days off work, I’d happily still ride back from Bluff all the way to Auckland. One thing led to another, I was mostly riding to and from bike events for climate reasons to avoid flying or driving, and then I figured the least carbon intensive way to go bikepacking in all of the iconic locations around the world would be to do it continuously overland (like, the most kilometres/least flights).

So, I started thinking about the world tour, and eventually — as a nerd for other world tour stories — I started to wonder if there was a world record out there that I could get. Turns out there was.

So, as much as I hope there are some outcomes for trans activism and visibility, I also did this world tour for myself, because I love biking and I wanted to have a grand adventure.

What — if anything — were you worried about, before you left? And how did that compare to the reality of the trip now that it’s done?

I was worried about a couple of things — safety of course being the biggest one. Aside from the obvious risk of transphobia and homophobia, it’s a solo attempt where I mostly sleep for free in the bushes — I exist in public for at least 12 hours a day; and usually 24. I felt pretty committed to the project anyway, because bikepacking is an exercise in constant problem solving, and with experience you can get a pretty good sense of what’s safe.

Only one person was transphobic to my face, in Nebraska, and that wasn’t a big deal. There were three times where I genuinely felt unsafe: once in the United States, once in Türkiye, and once in India.

The other worry was actually completing the ride on this attempt, because a world cycling record comes with a pretty hefty financial barrier ($10,000 for my round-the-world airline ticket and insurance) and because the US presidential election looked likely to close off my access there… I wasn’t going to restart the attempt. This was my shot.

Of course, the US part of that worry came out to be Super Correct and I am feeling good that I didn’t delay the trip any longer.

From where I sat — my couch, mostly — it seemed like you got chased around the world by a horrific tidal wave of fascism and transphobia. I’m glad you didn’t have many truly fraught situations but the vibe seems… kind of terrifying. I worry about it often. What’s it like seeing all this as a trans person? And do you see a way forward? And — asking for myself but I’m sure lots of other cis people too — what can we do to help?

It’s interesting. I made a decision to stop posting about the absolute state of things about a year ago - I figure that the amount of awareness I could spread is far less than the amount I’m terrorising my trans followers by amplifying bad news. While I’ve made a lot of political contributions over the years, my current form of activism is just being visible doing something more than just advocating for my right to exist.

So I guess that’s the thing for me. Advocating for our right to exist is a boring, vanilla allyship. By arguing that trans people exist, we’re making it seem like there’s an equal argument that we don’t. No, you should just dismiss transphobia as silly, brag about your cool trans friends to your cis friends, enjoy trans art, be gay, and do crimes.

Obviously there are also straightforward forms of help too, whether that’s donating to one of many LGBTQIA+ orgs or trans legal funds, or doing mutual aid. Many trans people also experience poverty, so even just helping your local food bank will probably reach us — and it will be more helpful than arguing with TERFS online.

For a change of pace from the worldwide rise of horrific transphobia and hate crimes: How did you eat on the road?

Eating was the biggest cost for me, mostly because the caloric requirements for 8-13 hours a day of cycling are really high, and I have a high metabolism anyway. The testosterone helps. So I didn’t really go to restaurants and stuff. I ate out of supermarkets, and in countries where it was possible to do so I did a bit of dumpster diving. Especially the USA.

That country is incredibly wasteful, you can barely swing a cat without hitting a rubbish bin full of free food. Usually that’s either fruit and veg, or unsold fast food like pizza, hash browns, and chicken sandwiches. Aside from that it usually ends up being a comedy diet: My favourite bit is eating a whole kilo of yoghurt outside the supermarket.

Which countries had the best dumpster cuisine?

Honestly, it sounds like I dumpster-dived everywhere, I didn’t! I only dumpster-dived in English-speaking countries where I could get familiar enough with the chain stores that were worth trying. Otherwise, I didn’t have enough time. America was the best. My fav was pre-cooked fried chicken sandwiches, wrapped in tinfoil. They pack super well.

Some dumpster donuts onboard in the US.

Biggest up? Biggest down?

Biggest (literal) up and down was the highest paved road in North America, at Rocky Mountains national park 14,140 feet (4,310 metres). Emotionally, the biggest ups have always been when all my new and old friends come out for rides or have me stay.

The biggest low was the flight between Montreal and Lisbon. Huge clusterfuck.

First mistake: the route I loaded into my GPS took me to the back of Montreal airport (a workers’ entrance) and I had to race 15km around the outside of the runway to make it to departures. After speed-boxing my bike, I got through security, and realised I lost my keys. The flight was delayed, so I was able to go back around through security again and get my keys. Then, went to scan the boarding pass: flight cancelled.

After all the adult children had finished complaining, I went and asked nicely about getting on another flight (this was now about midnight) and Air Canada was able to put me on an Air Portugal flight the next evening. I said, “Do I need to do anything about the bike?” and they said “No, it will be checked through”.

You can imagine where this is heading.

I make it to Lisbon, no bike. And the airport’s on strike. The staff that are still there are handling more irate passengers. I try to express that it’s a Guinness World Record, not a holiday. I get told, “Take this piece of paper and do not return to the airport until we call you”. This is the one time in the trip where I sat down in a corner and wept my bestest masculine tears.

The bike came eventually, on an Air Canada flight, two days later. The irony was that I’d been ahead of schedule and brought my flights forward, so the bike arrived on the original flight I was supposed to be on.

Heading up to the high point of the trip: Rocky Mountains National Park, Colorado.

Obviously the trip was dangerous. Did you have any accidents? And if you had gotten squished, what would you have wanted your gravestone to read, or to be remembered for?

I had seven crashes: with a car, a motorbike, an auto rickshaw, a scooter, up a curb, down a curb, and when my cranks sheared off in Aotearoa last month. A car pulled out on me when I was coming down a hill in the USA, and that ended up with a busted fork, five stitches and a brain scan. The other vehicle crashes were in India and relatively harmless except for the stuff that broke. Honestly, shout out to travel insurance).

My favourite approach to roadside death is in Türkiye, where if someone gets killed on the road, their family installs a drinking water fountain there. If I’d gotten martyred, I think I’d like that. And sad as it is, violence against trans people is the best way to make it to the news, so it probably would have been great for my public profile!

What did you do to not get bored? Audiobooks? Podcasts? Any favs?

Previously I’ve done bike trips for up to 30 days, and I never listened to anything. I love navel gazing. But after 20 days of riding it felt like I was running out of unique thoughts to have and I ended up starting with audiobooks.

Then, of course, podcasts, I like bike adventure podcasts like Detours and Seek Travel Ride, I get my hit of the monotone New Zealand accent from Mediawatch, Flightless Bird and Black Sheep, and some of the classic big podcasts like This American Life.

After about 180 days I bought Spotify Premium to listen to some garage rock because I finished everything I had in the backlog. Looking forward to having the backlog of audio build up again while I’m having a bit of time off.

Why bikes? What is it about cycling — or bike packing — that’s special to you?

I’m into bikes for many reasons!

Travelling using something that’s under your own power and you can fix all by yourself is very empowering. It’s super good for the environment. It’s an easy way to make friends with interesting strangers.

You can eat anything and everything, as much pizza and ice cream as your eight-year-old self could have ever dreamed of. It’s just so great to not be entrapped and limited by car culture. Where do I park? Literally wherever I want and it’s free

You can customise and mod out your touring bike like you’re a hod rodder or a mad max extra, but it’s (comparatively) much cheaper.

And while I’m not completely liberated from capitalism, I think living by bike helps demonstrate that alternatives are possible, and not only that, an alternative lifestyle that’s fun and full of mutual aid and camaraderie and humor.

My experience of biking (and hiking, any travel that relies on human power and long distance) is that there’s a lot of poetry. There’s the meditative aspect of just eating up the miles, interposed with moments of the sublime, like an unexpectedly beautiful sunset. And it creates a lot of memories and visual metaphors, like the aforementioned sunset juxtaposed against an oil refinery. Were there some particular moments or memories that really stood out for you in that way?

It’s a tricky one, because condensing 337 days down into moments is...hard. Also, over time, while I still have feelings on the inside, I’ve become so ridiculously emotionally regulated that I’m just super calm all the time now. One that stands out to me was the Monday Night Ride in Chicago (which was a ride on my day off), rolling with a massive crew of cool Chicago bike riders, and Frida (their lovely bike DJ) puts on How Bizarre.

And I guess, more generally, I’ve been overwhelmed by the crews of bike friends who turned out for me. I literally haven’t even had a birthday party as an adult before (I’m born in the cursed Capricorn time of year). It’s like all the birthday parties came at once. I also saw movingly dark things, like a car crash that happened right in front of me, so many tweakers, and all sorts of fascinatingly dead animals that might get you in trouble on Instagram.

A lot of folks find it hard to get on their bike to get to the shop, let alone go bikepacking or circle the world by cycle. What are your tips to help noobs get on the bike more?

I didn’t get into cycling until I was 22, and that was the first physical activity I was ever properly interested in. Most skilled cyclists have ridden since childhood, or come across from some other kind of sport (like, ultra runners with buggered knees). Before then, I tried to get into cycling, but I found it so hard.

The easiest way to surmount the learning curve is to commute for at least a month. For people as short as me, the other essential is learning how to stop and start properly, so that you can put your saddle at the correct height (if you’re short, you shouldn’t be able to put your toe on the ground comfortably at a stop).

Legendary bike mechanic Sheldon Brown has a tutorial on this, and in my opinion it’s the single most important thing to help people gain confidence on the bike.

These guys stopped Robbie in India to tell them they were looking at the world’s largest Hanuman statue.

What sticks out to you most, in terms of observations or things you feel like you’ve learned, now you’ve been out there and back again?

When I set out, one of the ideas for the trip was to find my place in queer community somewhere in the world. It turns out I found my place in many places — probably too many places to be honest!

I think it’s a bullshit neo-colonial opinion that you have to travel to discover yourself and be grateful for your home and whatnot. I’m trans — I had to do a lot of self discovery before I left. But the trip has given me a lot of empowerment and self worth.

Towards the end of the trip, I was really cutting loose from the shame that I’ve carried around everywhere about my own feelings and needs, because of the sheer amount of mutual aid and turbo-charged friendships I’ve made around the world.

Not just about losing my own personal guilt for my big-ass feelings, but that actually people mostly like that shit. People seemed to get a lot out of the instantly-vulnerable connection you have welcoming in someone who lives out of a bicycle.

People are excited about the story. The world is so much more emotionally available than you’d think.

Robbie has their own newsletter, Danger Is My Middle Name.