AllFreeNovel
Share Us
ChapterOne
GRIN IT AND BEAR IT
Georgia
While being the sister of racing star Henri Dubois had its benefits – I had a built-in, lifelong supporter and best friend who constantly challenged me – it also had its downside: the constant comparison by the media. Even though we were twins, we couldn’t have been more different from birth. Henri was incredibly outgoing, and everyone who met him immediately fell in love with his gorgeous smile, generous laugh, and charming disposition. I, on the other hand, was more reserved, straightforward, and, as the media often complained, ‘boring’. I didn’t hype up the crowd at public gatherings or, more importantly, woo the sponsors at private Valkyrie F1 Team events that I was forced to attend.
My close friends and family saw the real me – the constant prankster and jokester of the family, as Hugo, my eldest brother, would like to say – but the rest of the world saw the dull, quiet, and somber young woman whose reserved nature was uninteresting and unacceptable in comparison to my brother’s.
As a young girl from Monaco, I dreamed of racing in F1 – it was the premier racing league, and only 22 drivers got the privilege to compete. Henri was offered to join the prestigious Hermes F1 racing academy at sixteen, but when that dream didn’t come true for me, I decided to take an Indy Car seat in America – trying my hand at something new and exciting. The thrill of Indy Car was real, and the fans, much to my surprise, welcomed me as a female driver more than I expected. There were plenty of bitter, misogynist comments thrown my way – saying that I slept around to get my wins and didn’t deserve my trophies, but for the most part, the community had welcomed me and set me up for success – leading to my first Indy Car championship.
When Italian racing legend Isabelle Bianchi, CEO and Team Principal of the newly created Valkyrie F1 Racing Team, approached me and told me she was building a predominantly female F1 team with two female drivers, I was shocked – shocked that Isabelle had gotten enough funding to build something so new and risky, but mostly shocked that she wanted me as the team’s number one driver. The decision to join was a no-brainer – driving in Formula 1 with my brother had been our dream since we were two five-year-olds racing in go-karts. And while I knew the challenge would be difficult, the cars were much faster than Indy Car, I knew the challenge would be worth it. I wanted to show young girls that they, too, could make it to Formula 1. I wanted to prove to the world that women belonged in motorsport, that we could be champions, and this was my best chance.
My fellow driving partner, Lily, was the partner every driver hoped for. At just nineteen years old, she had won the W-series championship, and at twenty, she was now the youngest Formula 1 driver on the grid and the youngest woman to compete. Lily was everything a Formula 1 team wanted. She was the definition of beautiful inside and out, and the press ate her up. It didn’t matter how many ridiculous questions they threw her, Lily answered them with finesse and ease that movie stars would envy.
Still, even if our personalities were different on track and in the paddock, our friendship had started to blossom. Lily managed to navigate my introverted personality and made me feel incredibly comfortable. In return, as the older, more experienced driver, I gave her driving tips and helped her get mentally prepared before races.In Formula 1, you were in for a miserable season if you didn’t like your teammate.
While the media had tried – and failed – to paint us as two bickering women, the reality couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Lily and I had a shared mission: show the opposition that a couple of 5’4 female racers, who had been written off by every other team, could, in fact, win Formula 1 races.
The 2021 season started with an unexpected bang. Testing in Bahrain was one of a kind – an absolute dream come true, and the car miraculously had the speed and pace of the other top teams. The fan base was building quickly, and sponsors began to show genuine interest in the team. Much to Valkyrie’s excitement, having female drivers opened opportunities for new sponsors such as make-up companies and handbag designers, companies that didn’t typically approach the male drivers.
By the end of pre-season testing, the F1 press had declared Valkyrie as the team to beat and had marked me as F1’s most unexpected rookie. But by the season’s third race, one thing was becoming apparent: I was quickly becoming the press’ public enemy number one. Comments about my “ambition” and “pushy” nature on the track had already made headlines after race two. By the third race, the press was branding me this season’s viper after an ‘incident’ with Noah had forced their beloved, reigning champion off the track. While male drivers like 3x World Champion Noah Hendriks could get away with short, snippy remarks in the media pen while glaring at the camera, it was clear that the press had no intention to let a female driver get away with similar behavior.
When Isabelle approached me with this opportunity, every bone in my body knew this wouldn’t be easy. I knew there would be bitter comments about any success I had, but what I wasn’t expecting was for the media to ask me questions like, “Georgia, how does your boyfriend feel with all your traveling?” and “Georgia, how do you deal with your menstrual cycle during races?”.
Apparently, my snarky reply of “The same way you deal with your period, Bill,” didn’t get the chuckle I had expected. No one likes a woman talking about their cycle on national TV, it so happens.
The media also didn’t seem to like mylackof a boyfriend. Rumors had already circulated about my brother’s close friend and fellow race car driver, Éliott Simon, and me a couple of years ago when I had come to visit Henri at some races in previous seasons, but now the rumor mill was rampant, and the obsession with my dating life was fascinating to everyone – except me. On the one hand, the media scrutinized the fact that any boyfriend I could possibly have would be so heartbroken with my constant traveling, so I couldn’t possibly have a boyfriend, and on the other hand, I was dating every man under the sun.
At the start of the season, the media had dubbed me “Sissy Dubois,” a somewhat rude but at least boring nickname referencing the fact that I was the sister of Henri Dubois, the Hermes F1 Team’s precious number one driver. By race three, I was “Sassy Dubois” – something my team principal deemed much worse, especially with big sponsorship names hovering around, discussing deals. Even though our car had parts backed by huge automobile giants, our funding was minimal. We had to sustain enough funds to prove ourselves, just like any other team. With a majority female engineering team and paddock crew, a lot was at stake here.
Still, I knew I couldn’t let it bother me. Within my first three races, I had secured two podiums and had come 5th in the third race. I was second in the drivers championship, with the rest of the season to play for.
I was a lion living in a man’s world, and no one would stop me.
* * *
The first win of the season had been magical. After just four races, I managed to not only get on the podium but stand on the tallest step. As I looked to my left, I saw my brother splashing me with champagne while attempting to give me the world’s most enormous bear hug. The look of pride in his eyes gave me a warm feeling, a reminder of my family’s support for the last twenty-four years. Even though I had passed Henri on track in what I’m sure the media would deem a “tense battle between siblings,” I could see the look of love and happiness for me in his eyes.
“Congrats, Peaches, I’m so proud of you,” I heard him whisper as we left the podium celebration. As kids, we visited America often. Our aunt and uncle had moved there when we were younger, so we visited their beautiful house in Georgia every couple of years. It’s there that Henri had started to call me Peaches after a round of peach picking at a local farm – and after that, the name had stuck.
Drenched in champagne and smelling of sweat, I smiled back at Henri, giving him one last hug before running down the paddock and back to my team, who were waiting for me with open arms.
Valkyrie’s race strategist, Fiona Schmidt, wife of Felix Schmidt, the Rennen F1 Team Principal, was first to greet me. I’ll never know how Valkyrie F1 managed to steal her from the Rennen F1 Team, but over the last several years, she had become my confidant and mentor. Being a Formula 1 test driver, she knew the pressure I was facing and the challenging work it took to be a driver. In Formula 1, it felt like everything was madebymen andformen.
“Congrats, Georgie. P1! Well deserved.” Fiona gave me a huge hug and a big smile, followed by a pat on the back.
“You know what I think this win deserves?” I chuckled, a little hint of mischief playing on my face, which I could tell Fiona noticed by the slight uptick of her brow.
“You still have to do media duties; don’t even ask.”
The smile on my face immediately dropped. I knew that would be the case, but I had let myself hope for one millisecond that maybe the joy of the team’s first race win would allow me some reprieve, which was ridiculous even to hope. A race winner was expected to do media, and if Valkyrie F1 were to keep gaining sponsors, I needed to get my face in front of a camera and smile and chat about how happy I was.
I looked to Isabelle, the Valkyrie team principal, who smiled and waved at me. I think in all my time of knowing her, Isabelle had smiled maybe three times, so I was honored that my race win was one of them.
Isabelle Bianchi was an incredible woman. Her success in the W-series and Formula E was well-regarded. She was a brilliant strategist, and while you could only describe her as having a formidable personality, she had the finesse to manage the media like a genius. Isabelle had faced her own challenges with the press, and while she had mastered them with great talent, her reputation was known across the paddock. Before coming to Valkyrie, she did a stint as the Hermes F1’s Communication Director, where the press learned that messing with Isabelle was more trouble than it was worth.
Unlike me, her demanding nature and direct comments were revered by the press and the F1 community alike. She could command a room full of men in this male-dominated sport and get precisely what she wanted. Her hard exterior was always on display at races, but I knew there was someone soft and gentle underneath. She fiercely cared about the people who worked for her and put her name and reputation on the line to start a woman-owned Formula 1 team because she believed in us – believed that women could be as successful as men in motorsport if given the chance.
