20250522 Musings: On “Dyke”
On the word Dyke: The Power and Reclamation
By “Madam” Diana Pine, Founding President, Dykes on Bikes® Rehoboth Beach
Once a slur hurled to shame, the word dyke now rides front and center—tattooed on jackets, painted on tanks, spoken in pride, and roared through the streets in parades and protests alike. Its story is layered, charged, and revolutionary. And like many words born in resistance, “dyke” holds power because of how it has been reclaimed, redefined, and ridden into liberation.
The term "dyke" dates back to the early 20th century, used as a derogatory label for masculine-presenting women, butch lesbians, or anyone who defied gendered expectations of femininity and heterosexuality. It was intended to isolate and humiliate. But in the mouths and movements of those it targeted, "dyke" became a declaration of defiance.
In the 1970s and 1980s, lesbian feminists and activists began using “dyke” as a term of solidarity and empowerment. The Lesbian Avengers, the Combahee River Collective, and countless dyke marches and direct actions reclaimed the word on protest signs and zines. It was a signal: We’re here, we’re visible, and we will not be erased. In these acts of reclamation, “dyke” transformed from a tool of oppression into a badge of courage.
The cultural shift reached a critical legal milestone with the Dykes on Bikes® organization, the now-iconic lesbian motorcycle contingent that has led San Francisco Pride since 1976. When they attempted to register their name as a trademark, the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office initially denied it—citing the term “dyke” as offensive under the Lanham Act, which prohibits the registration of “disparaging” marks. But the riders didn’t back down.
After a 14-year legal battle, the Dykes on Bikes® case went all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court. In 2007, they won the right to legally trademark their name, a monumental affirmation that self-identification matters more than outsider discomfort. The ruling acknowledged what community members had long known: words can be reclaimed, and identity cannot be policed by outdated morality.
That legal fight was never just about a trademark—it was about who gets to define us. As reported in Mission Local and East Bay Times, the victory confirmed that when historically marginalized people reclaim language used against them, they not only shift meaning—they shift power.
Today, “dyke” is a word still wrapped in complexity. Not every queer woman uses it. Not every lesbian identifies with it. But for many of us, it remains a symbol of queer resistance and gender nonconformity, of grit, muscle, love, and rebellion. It is especially sacred in spaces where lesbian identity is still made invisible or devalued.
To claim “dyke” is to tap into a living history of unapologetic presence—on bikes, at borders, in courtrooms, on the front lines of social justice. It’s to remember that visibility is itself a revolutionary act, especially for those of us too often told we’re “too much,” “too loud,” “too butch,” “too queer.”
At Dykes on Bikes® Rehoboth Beach, we honor this legacy with every ride. We wear the word with pride not just because of where we've been, but because of what we’re building: an inclusive, bold, and community-rooted future that celebrates lesbian + queer women in all their strength, diversity, and brilliance.
Because “dyke” isn’t just a word.
It’s a war cry.
It’s a love song.
It’s a revolution on two wheels.
References:
Mission Local: Dykes on Bikes wins fourteen-year battle
East Bay Times: Dykes on Bikes can keep their name, high court rules
The Advocate: Supreme Court Loves Dykes on Bikes
For more on our Chapter, rides, and how to join click here.
