On Twitter, I often see a statistic that says a majority of Americans want to live in a walkable neighborhood but only 8% actually do. I am one of those lucky 8%.
Growing up in San Francisco, I’ve been exposed to the lifestyle of good urban design. Unlike most cities that dove head-first into the highway-building, urban renewal craze of the ’50s and ’60s, San Francisco instead fought the heavy-handed plans which would have torn apart the city. The result is a city with only two freeways that are relegated to the southern portion of the peninsula (lots of racism involved in that decision by the way). Most trips are not taken by car and vibrant neighborhoods are easily accessible by walking, biking, and transit.
In my own life, this granted me independence from my parents and car-reliance at a relatively early age. Every weekday, my commute to middle school involved bussing to the train station, riding into the heart of downtown San Francisco, and transferring to another bus. My trips matured me by exposing me to all types of people and situations: I remember the first time I saw someone inject themselves with heroin laying next to my bus stop downtown and the time a group of kids tried to steal my phone while waiting for the train. My unfiltered exposure to raw, urban life developed much of my worldview and perspective today. In addition, my access to public transportation offered me greater control in my life from my parents. Even in sixth grade, it was up to me to independently wake up, get ready, and be at school on time. Without the need for a car, I had no reliance on my parents when making my plans. On the weekends, I would bike across town to meet friends and visit whatever neighborhoods sparked our interests.
Perhaps because of its profound impact on who I am, I sought to understand the urban environment through high school by interning and volunteering for governments and nonprofits. One summer, I got to intern with an agency of the City of San Francisco that was overseeing the new construction of a neighborhood, helping me understand the decision-making process behind the built environment. Through these experiences, I now find it challenging to walk down the street and just see it at its face value. Rather, my background informs a rollercoaster of emotions as I witness the urban features around me: frustration with a new apartment complex under construction that is displacing low-income residents (but also the YIMBY in my head telling me its for the better), annoyance that the transportation agency couldn’t make the bike lane protected given the car that is parked in it, appreciation for the mixed-use zoning at the corner with a coffee shop, and finally a petty grin as private vehicles are forced to wait at the stoplight while a transit signal lets a bus jump the queue of traffic.
This is a recent picture from one of my favorite view points of San Francisco. When I was younger, me and my friends would bike across the Golden Gate Bridge and explore the nature on the other side.