Streetbeat, Vol. XVII
On the fight for greenways, accessible post-COVID spaces, and cleaner air.
As we slowly tick towards the 70% vaccination threshold in the U.S., Americans may notice their calendars resuming normalcy. Which I’m personally adverse to: I didn’t mind how the pandemic slowed down our lives, or at least those who could afford it. In a hyper-fast, hyper-mobile world, time every so often where we don’t move so much could be a good thing. But ideally, it’d be out of our own volition. Early on in COVID, when there was a lot of chatter around how nice and quiet our cities had become, Antonella Radicchi, my go-to source for all things urban soundscape, reminded me that it was a result of lifelessness. She’d prefer we make our cities healthier through action, not crisis.
Sound tells a story, and cities are getting loud again. In early June, I visited close friends in Washington D.C., and neighborhood centers, like Mount Pleasant and Shaw, were noisy. (New outdoor dining structures and environments that encourage walking certainly help.) And I recently returned from Belfast, Maine, where the Main Street there—outfitted with colorful crosswalks, parklets and street fairs—was clearly (re)open for business. You knew it, too, from the sheer amount of car traffic on Route 1, the state’s coastal connector.
Back home, in western Queens, I’ve gotten increasingly involved with the 31st Avenue Open Street in our own backyard. Now celebrating its first full month of a temporary full closure, with no parking or thru traffic for two blocks, the soundscape there on weekends is now predominantly human-led rather than mechanical (which I’d call ‘noise’), with the din of stand-up comedy, streetside theater, chalk art, and people simply meeting in the street.
New York, the city that never sleeps, could frankly use more of that. And oh yes, there was a mayoral primary! More on that next month, when we have results.
Now, onto the good stuff…
Green(way) New Deal
As it always was going to be, the ‘infrastructure bill’ in the U.S. — which, if passed, would be the single largest down payment on the country’s physical systems in modern history — is a soap opera. Depending on when you’re reading this, intraparty factions in the House may be on the same page (or maybe not!), the Senate is probably still searching for votes, and the White House is likely reassuring someone somewhere that everything will be A-OK. Semantics change daily, but that’s the general gist of what’ll be going on, at least until September.
But within that maddening vortex is the potential for some pretty transformative stuff. I, for one, am closely monitoring the progress on greenway funding. For the last 30 years, advocates and organizers have pushed local governments and elected officials to fund these multi-use walking and cycling paths through our towns and cities. And a ton has gotten done: the East Coast Greenway, which runs from Georgia to Maine, is now 30% protected/off-road, and New York City’s greenways are hugely popular, even if disjointed. Not only do they provide carbon-free transportation, supporters say, but they’re also economic boons.
That work has emerged despite a greater federal vision of what a fully connected greenway system looks like. Now, with an infrastructure bill the furthest along one has been in my lifetime, organizers say they have a moonshot of making Greenway USA happen. Read more about the ‘greenway stimulus’—and how federal transportation $$$ work—in a feature I wrote for Bloomberg CityLab.
(Also two shout-outs: to Diane Jenks at Outspoken Cyclist, for having me back on the podcast to talk about it; and Peter Coy for specifically mentioning this piece in his column at Bloomberg.)
MUTCD, GTFO
Speaking of out with the old: whatever comes out of Washington these next few months—whether it’s the new, climate-leaning surface transportation bill, which sets federal transit policy every five years; or this infrastructure behemoth—there seems to be a decent chance that MUTCD will get mobbed.
What’s MUTCD, you might be (read: very likely) asking? Well, it’s the Manual on Uniform Traffic Control Devices, of course. Think of it as the Holy Book of American Street Design. It is what the U.S. Department of Transportation issues to towns and cities to standardize everything on a street. It’s likely the reason why (if you’re in U.S.) the road outside of where you are right now looks the way it does, with its stop signs, traffic lights, and the like.
For years, transportation advocates have argued that MUTCD is too pro-car, creating an environment in the name of traffic engineering that largely satisfies automobiles, typically driven by one person, rather than a diverse set of more vulnerable users. (Which, really, is the story of transportation planning up until pretty recently.) In my hopefully inaugural piece for the site, Streetsblog NYC editor Gersh Kuntzman allowed me to localize the MUTCD debate even further, showing how the outdated protocols even stop my requests for crosswalks in my neighborhood dead in their tracks.
Check it out.
Making airwaves
Who could forget those early-COVID pictures of the Himalayans clear as day from India for the first time in years? Or the smog lifting from places like Beijing and Mexico City as lockdowns commenced? I expounded on them in previous newsletters; like anyone else, I saw it as a silver lining in a dark time.
Now, it’s difficult to see those memories through the toxic haze of reopening. We’re back pollutin’ like we do best, as congestion and collective consumption return to our streets. The predictability of it all is the saddest part.
But it doesn’t have to be that way. Cities can, in fact, clear the skies. In another collaboration with PEAK Urban for City Monitor, I heard from researchers in India, China, and the U.K. about some effective strategies in ensuring that air pollution leaves with the pandemic. And those photographs of blue, seared into the public’s memory, could help.
Read it here.
And heatwaves…
A few years ago, esteemed former editor Harry Cheadle asked me to write about what extreme heat will really look like in cities as our days grow hotter and our summers longer. (You can read that piece for VICE here.) Enough that it’s hot out — we’re talking about tar melting, cables buckling, and planes faltering on take-off. For a real-life example, look no further than Portland this last month.
What does community ownership look like in cities?
I was delighted to partake in Plumia’s Speaker Series this month, where I spoke at length and took questions about community-focused ownership models (i.e. cooperatives, community land trusts). Plumia wants to create ‘the first country on the Internet’ through conceptualizing how remote work could change citizenship and infrastructure. That evoked bigger conversations about the return of the city-state, the future of property rights, and allowing people to actively reshape their streets through participatory planning.
I promise it’s less heady than it sounds. Watch the full talk here.
Solutions Corner: Creating accessible post-COVID spaces
When I think of the phrase ‘lived experience,’ navigating a city while disabled is usually one of the first things that comes to mind. For so many, disability is something you maybe encounter in your lifetime, if you have a family member of friend who uses a cane, or walker, or wheelchair; or if you’re temporarily disabled through an injury; or if you have a stroller in tow (which, for countless urbanites, is their wake-up call to accessibility). Otherwise, it’s largely out of sight, out of mind for the ‘able-bodied.’ And that has a huge impact on what you perceive as barriers in the built environment.
You might not notice how important easy-grade curb-cuts and clear crosswalks are for wheelchairs. Or that your public transit system is sorely lacking elevators. Or that the alternate route caused by construction empties onto a street that, sure, is wide enough for two legs, but perhaps not two wheels. It’s not your fault — if didn’t have to deal with it yourself, how would you know?
The only reason it came to mind for me is because of my mom, who was disabled for the second half of her life due to ataxia, a neurodegenerative disorder. And so when I was first approached by disability advocates about how New York City’s subways are an accessibility nightmare, it didn’t take long to connect the dots between all the challenges we had helping her get around and the way we design our cities without thinking about people like her.
It then led to other stories about street redesigns, and this month, a feature for Bloomberg CityLab about how post-COVID spaces (parklets, Open Streets, etc.) — that, of course, this newsletter heralds — could improve for all users now that they’re likely permanent. I’ll let readers digest the longer piece, but here are a few takeways that could help make for more inclusive planning:
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Reanalyze the streets
Now that we’re adding so much to our streetscape (e.g. outdoor dining structures, micromobility vehicles, WiFi devices, parklets) it’s time for the sidewalk to get a fresh new look. Planners should determine if pavements in busier areas can be expanded into the street in order to not only accommodate greater footfall, but also, allow for easier passage for those with limited mobility. Marie Kondo the streets by reducing the clutter.
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Educate the masses
As mentioned earlier, it’s remarkably hard to impart lived experience. If we want buy-in, we need education. (It’s the same reason why driver’s ed should include training on maneuvering around cyclists, like in the Netherlands.) At every touch point, cities need to be proactively teaching businesses that not providing a ramp, for example, is a big no-no. Instinctually, it should feel wrong, like littering. And there’s even a money angle, which, in capitalism, helps! Studies have shown that businesses could collectively be missing out on millions of dollar each year if a disabled customer chooses to shop elsewhere due to inaccessibility.
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Inclusive is including
When covering criminal justice for years, I often heard the saying among organizers that those closest to the problem are closest to the solution. This last step is also the most straightforward: include people. Ask disability advocates if the permits you’re giving out for outdoor dining actually make sense, like they did in Birmingham, UK. Hire accessibility officers who can work alongside planners in creating streets that work for everyone. And maybe even create a jobs program that brings disabled citizens into place-making through site visits and evaluation. Be proactive rather than reactive.
Bright Side: Redesigning the trash can
A personal passion (and pet peeve) of mine is litter, or figuring out ways to more effectively clean our cities up. And if you’ve been around me long enough, you have likely heard my screed on municipal trash cans, which are often designed to hasten pick-up, but not much else. They can — and should — be smarter. (This month, I saw enclosed trash cans with flowers on top in Belfast, fwiw.)
This month’s Bright Side is brought to you by my good friend Jason Bergman, who pointed out this tweet from Stephen Miller, who does comms for the Transit app. In Montreal, trash cans are designed with can collectors in mind; they leave ridges so people can leave their cans outside, helping those in need collect faster, rather than sifting through. It’s not revolutionary — but it gets us thinking beyond the status quo.
Parklet of the Month: June 2021
Winner: Bosley’s Pet Store, in Vancouver, Canada.
FKA: 2-3 parking spots, or perhaps 1 pick-up truck.
Now: A play area for pets. They call it… wait for it… a ‘barklet.’
I’ve promised Jonathan Berk of Patronicity and Benchplaces that I would feature one of the countless parklet photos that he regularly shares on Twitter from Boston. (And I will!) But how could I reasonably scroll past this one on his feed, and not share it? I mean, c’mon.
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Got a parklet you want to give a shout-out to? Submit it here.
Thanks for reading! See you in July.
"And everywhere, infinite options, infinite possibilities. An infinity, and at the same time, zero. We try to scoop it all up in our hands, and what we get is a handful of zero. That's the city" ~ Haruki Murakami