Reportage

Central Texas Cyclery Shop Visit: An Interview with Girmawi James

In a small industrial park of South Austin, sandwiched between a construction office and a machine shop, there lives a small dream that recently came to fruition. Central Texas Cyclery opened in December 2024, marking a historic first for Austin as its first and only black-owned bike shop. Central Texas Cyclery carries TerraTrikes, which are tricycles that enable older people and disabled people to cycle. This inclusive shop is owned by Girmawi James, a rad young dad from Pearland, Texas. Cinthia Pedraza had a chance to sit down with Girmawi and ask him how this shop came to be.

Meet Girmawi James

How did you first get into bikes?

I learned to ride in secret, by myself, in my backyard on my sister’s pink kid’s bike when I was six. I didn’t want to be caught dead riding a pink bike in public as a little boy. Eventually, I had my own BMX bike, but that bike’s tire got busted by my brother’s friend. I didn’t know how to fix it, so it led to the end of my childhood bike experience.

I didn’t pick up cycling again until 2011 when I moved to Austin. I didn’t have a car and I used bikes as a form of transportation. Then bikes became a way to make money when I started pedicabbing. I’m not fast or anything, but I discovered my passion for fixing bikes. There’s a saying, “Why dig for gold when you can sell shovels?”

I mean, riding bikes is hard, you gotta make sure you eat right and make sure the weather’s good, but I can fix bikes in any weather. Pedicabbing led me to work for Austin’s old bike-share company called B-Cycles. B-Cycles led me to working for a cycling nonprofit called Ghisallo Cycling Initiative. Ghisallo gets older people and low-income kids on bikes through bike clubs. In both roles, I managed and worked on hundreds of their fleet of bikes.

Origins of Central Texas Cyclery

What inspired you to open a bike shop?

I wanted to learn to fix bikes. When I’d go to the bike shops, I didn’t really feel welcome. They made me kinda feel stupid. I felt like, why would I want to keep coming back here? or, I need to know my stuff before I could feel comfortable coming back here. In college, I lived with a bike shop owner, Natalie Goforth, owner of Fast Folks (a fixie shop from Austin’s past). I took out student loans in college and I used that money to buy bike tools at cost through Natalie. I started learning fixing bikes in our living room. This year I finally felt confident enough in my wrenching to open my own bike shop.

Can you tell me about your experience growing up Rastafarian?

Rastafarian is a Judeo-Christian religion that includes a genetic history. There is a connection between the Rastafarian king Haile Selassie with Moses. I wasn’t fully Rastafarian, but my dad was. Our family only ate chicken and fish and Rastafarians don’t cut their hair. Growing up in a small town in Texas, there was a lot of racism. You’d be surprised – it’s not just from white people, but also from black people. I had dreadlocks, and back in the 90’s black people didn’t really understand dreadlocks. I was picked on a lot, mainly by black people. Once I got older, the culture changed. When hip-hop and reggae started mixing, like Bob Marley, Sean Paul, and marijuana, people became more accepting of Rastafarian culture.

You’re a dad to a three-year-old named Bruce, named after Batman. What do you want him to see when he sees you at your bike shop?

I want him to see me as a superhero. Doing something brave, taking a risk by starting a business. I saw that with my dad, he was doing what he had to for our family by having his own business. I want my son to see entrepreneurship as normal and a possibility for him. My grandmother in Jamaica also worked in her own business selling at the market. So it’s three generations of entrepreneurs.

A Bike Oasis

What are your thoughts on representation of black people in the cycling community?

There’s not enough representation, but I think that’s changing on the global scale within cycling. I think about it as representation for anyone who feels left out, not just black people – disabled people, old people.

What do you hope to bring to the cycling community in Austin?

My shop is located in a bike shop desert. There are no shops in this area and I want to give people in this area access to bikes. The shop can be a hub for community and a safe space for people. We also are the only dealer for TerraTrikes in Austin, so this is a great resource filling the void of bikes for disabled people and older people.

Where do you see Central Texas Cyclery in 10 years?

Hopefully still here and prospering.

Is there anything else you want people to know?

I want people to be inspired to chase their dreams. I jumped off the bridge and now I have to see if I can fly or not. They don’t have to be that extreme, but I hope they feel like they can try.

The city of Austin has a tumultuous history with its black residents. In 1928 the city passed a Master Zoning Plan which redlined the city straight down the middle along what is today Interstate 35. A once economically and racially diverse city was divided between white, black, and Hispanic districts through the creation of a “negro district” encompassing 6 square miles on the east side of Austin. Before this redline was implemented, black people lived in Freedman Communities throughout Austin. White residents were allocated the best land in the rolling hills of West Austin, while people of color were forced to live in the flatter east side, zoned for industrial use and deemed hazardous.

In the past few years, as gentrification has impacted East Austin, black people have been leaving the homes their families have owned for generations in record numbers for smaller cities in the surrounding area. At the same time, the Austin cycling community has seen an increase in diversity, with cycling events like the ever-growing Black History Bike Ride, black cycling groups like the Bottom Bracket Boys, and all-inclusive groups like the 512 Wheelie Crew.

Girmawi’s shop sits east of I-35, situated squarely in the middle of Austin’s future.