Jordan Rand.

At first glance, your world might seem made up of two very different realities: fashion and motorcycle racing. Yet you move between them with complete ease. How do you deal with other people’s expectations when they start to feel like pre-written scripts?

I think it’s natural. People often look for clear reference points and recognisable roles. It’s understandable that they may struggle when someone steps outside those expectations. But what I’ve learned is that we can be many things at once, even if that seems unusual to others. We can love fashion and race on a track, wear pink and push a Ducati to its limits. It’s not a contradiction—it’s simply a different way of being complete.

I really love the idea of the “power of and.” Society often teaches us to choose, to define ourselves with a single word.

But I believe in the power of “and”: you can be a model and a rider, sensitive and strong, elegant and rebellious. We don’t have to fit into just one box. Embracing everything we are is an act of freedom.

You’ve built a strong personal voice, one that inspires many people. But with that comes criticism and background noise. How do you stay on course and remain true to yourself?

It’s true, sometimes the noise can be overwhelming. And I’m not immune to it—it affects me, just like it affects anyone else. But over time, I’ve learned that when you respond to negativity with patience, understanding and maybe a touch of humour, you can often change the outcome. Some people start with an aggressive comment, but if you listen and reply with kindness, they end up thanking you. It’s surprising.

A turning point for me came when I decided to truly live my truth. Every year, I choose a guiding word, and last year my word was “truth.” It was an important choice because it also meant opening up more and sharing parts of myself that I had always kept somewhat hidden.

I was afraid. Afraid of losing opportunities, of being judged, of no longer being liked. But then I discovered that the best things started happening when I stopped seeking approval by adapting myself to others. That was when I truly began to feel free.

I started sharing more authentic content, speaking openly about who I am, and the response was far more positive than I had expected. Some of the most meaningful collaborations came precisely because I had been completely myself.

It taught me that the key is often not to conform, but to have the courage to show yourself for who you truly are.

Not only do you challenge stereotypes, you do it with irony, lightness and grace. Is that a conscious choice, or simply your natural way of moving through the world?

I’d say it’s a bit of both. By nature, I always try to see the good in people, even when they don’t understand me or when they criticise me. Maybe it comes from the way I grew up. I learned that, especially with people around you, it’s worth staying open and trying to explain yourself. Sometimes a kind response can disarm someone more effectively than a thousand words.

And then I also enjoy responding with a bit of “sass,” as we say in America. If someone comments, “Women can’t ride,” I’d rather answer with a video of myself leaning into a corner on track with my knee on the ground. It’s ironic, but it also sends a strong message. It’s a way of saying: I’m here, and I don’t need to shout to prove it.

Blocking out external noise is one thing. But truly listening to your own voice is something else entirely. What were the moments that made you genuinely trust yourself?

Confidence is not something that is given to you. You build it yourself, step by step. The first video I ever posted talking about myself and my story was on TikTok. I felt like nobody there really knew me: no relatives, very few friends. I felt free. But when I decided to share something similar on Instagram, where all the people I actually know could see it, I was scared.

I was afraid of being judged, misunderstood, of losing work opportunities. But instead, it became the beginning of something new. It went well. And every time I did it again, my confidence grew.

The same thing happened on track. The first time I really opened the throttle on a straight, I screamed inside my helmet. I was terrified. But then you realise you can do it. And you tell yourself: I can do it again next time.

Has your passion for motorsport ever helped you connect with people who, in other respects, might have felt distant from you?

Yes, it has happened many times. People who perhaps didn’t understand who I am or what I stand for, but then they saw my relationship, the way I love, my passion for motorcycles... and something changed. They write to me saying, “I never thought I could relate to your world, but watching you has changed my perspective.”

Simply by sharing your experience?

Exactly. Sometimes all it takes is showing something authentic, without filters, for a connection to happen. I receive messages from fathers saying, “I want my daughter to see you. I want her to know that she can do it too.” And then there are so many young women who write to me saying, “I never thought about going to a racetrack. But now that I’ve seen you, I want to try.”

Simply because no one had ever made them imagine it before.

Exactly. If you can’t see it, you can’t aspire to it. And if nobody shows you that something is possible, it may never even occur to you. But all it takes is one person doing it once for many others to start thinking, “Maybe I can do it too.”