Why Are Bike Lanes Seen As Conduits Of Gentrification?

When the bike lane came to Crescent Street, people didn't wonder whether they'd be priced out of the neighborhood.  It didn't price me out:  My rent was the same on the day I moved as it was three and a half years earlier, when the bike lane opened.  I moved mainly because a senior apartment (don't tell anybody!) became available.

But others see those green strips of asphalt with white borders (or, in some cases, bollards or other separators) as conduits of class warfare.  While they might own their homes, they worry about the face and faces of their communities changing.  

Such anxieties are felt and expressed (sometimes overtly) mainly in older white working-class enclaves and communities of color.  From Hasidic Jews and other religious conservatives who don't want "scantily clad" cyclists (and "sexy-ass hipster girls") rolling past their abodes to working parents who ferry themselves to work and their kids to school in cars and minivans and complain they "can't park" and they're "always stuck in traffic" to poor Blacks and Hispanics who feel abandoned by their cities and country, people in communities where few adults ride bikes for recreation (and certainly aren't riding the latest carbon-fiber technowonder) see cyclists--especially cycling activists and advocates--as younger, whiter, richer or more libertine than themselves.  Oh, and many of us are childless or have only one child, in contrast to the large families many poor, religious and other people support.

So in a way, I can understand why some people sigh "There goes my neighborhood!" when a bike lane comes to their doorstep. To put it in pedantic, schoolmarmish terms, they are equating correlation with causation.  That is also understandable:  When people don't know the underlying reasons for a phenomenon, they tend to link any two events they see simultaneously.  And it's true that in my hometown of New York, you are more likely to ride in a bike lane if you're on the Upper East Side of Manhattan than if you're living and riding in the decidedly non-gentrified, non-hipster Brooklyn neighborhood of East New York.  

In my observation, if there is any cause-and-effect relationship between bike lanes and gentrification, it's actually the reverse of what many people believe:  If anything, gentrification leads to the building of bike lanes in one neighborhood.  Those paths are usually constructed along long corridors that lead from one neighborhood into another. So a lane like the one along Kent Avenue in Brooklyn began in the gentrified/hipster areas of Greenpoint and North Williamsburg and was extended down to the ungentrified areas of South Williamsburg, where most residents are members of large Hasidic families.  And another Brooklyn bike lane, along Fourth Avenue, extends from the mostly White and Middle Eastern enclaves of Bay Ridge through the mainly immigrant Chinese and Mexican communities in Sunset Park and, from there, into working-class neighborhoods near Greenwood Cemetery and on to uber-gentrified Park Slope.

If anything, such lanes should be equalizers:  People from poor as well as affluent communities can use them to bike (or ride their scooters) to work, school, shop or just for fun. I think, perhaps, more people would see them that way if more bike activists and advocates looked and talked (ahem) less like me!

Our Mistakes Migrating North?

 In one way, hostility drivers direct at cyclists is like racism, sexism and homo- and transphobia: It’s based on stereotypes and other misconceptions.

One of the stereotypes about cyclists is that we’re Lycra-clad antisocial scofflaws (or “sexy-ass hipster girls”). I stopped wearing Lycra years ago and I obey the law to the degree that I can without endangering myself or anyone else.

As for misconceptions:  One that drivers have shouted at me when they cut me off is that cyclists and bike lanes are the reason why drivers spend so much time sitting in traffic.

I can understand why they, however misguidedly, link bike lanes with traffic jams. On Crescent Street, where I lived until a few months ago, a bike lane was installed a few years ago. From day one, I thought it was a terrible idea because Crescent, a southbound thoroughfare with two traffic and parking lanes, was the only direct connection between the RFK Memorial Bridge/Grand Central Parkway and the Queensborough (59th Street) Bridge/Long Island Expressway. For that reason, it has always had more traffic than the other north-south streets (except 21st) in Astoria and Long Island City. The situation was exacerbated by Mount Sinai-Queens hospital on Crescent and 30th Avenue, two blocks from where I lived.

So as poor a decision as it was to turn a Crescent traffic lane into a bike route, it was not the cause of traffic tie-ups or drivers’ inability to find parking: Vehicular logjams and the paucity of parking spaces plagued the street long before the bike lane arrived.

Unfortunately, similar mistakes in bike infrastructure planning have been made, and motorists’ misconceptions and frustrations have resulted, all over New York and other US cities. They have led grandstanding politicians and candidates to pledge that no more bike lanes will be built and existing ones will be “ripped out.”

Even more worrisome, at least to me, is that lawmakers in a place that seems to have more enlightened policies than ours are talking about such knee-jerk “solutions” to traffic “problems.” In the Canadian province of Ontario, the government is considering legislation that would prohibit the installation of bike lanes if motor vehicle lanes have to be removed.

Bike lane on Eglinton Avenue. Toronto. Photo by Paul Smith for CBC.

The “reasoning” behind it is the population—and traffic—growth around cities like Toronto, Ottawa and Hamilton which has led to longer commute times.

What such policy makers fail to realize is that growth, especially in the suburbs, is largely a result of building roads that provide direct access to cities’ business districts, or between suburban locations.  Research has shown this pattern to repeat itself in metropolitan areas all over the world:  One planner describes it as a “build it and they will come” phenomenon.

Moreover, the legislation Ontario lawmakers are proposing posits a false choice between motor vehicle and bike lanes and pits cyclists against motorists. It’s difficult to see how inciting such a conflict will make commuting—or cycling or driving for any other kind of transportation or recreation—safer or more efficient.

I hope that Ontario’s legislature will stop and listen to research and evidence rather than loud, angry voices. My hope is not unfounded: our neighbors to the north seem to do such things more often and earlier, whether it comes to transportation, marriage equality or any number of other issues.

Hipster Girls And The Black Hat Hole

“Very well then, I contradict myself (I am large, I contain multitudes)”

Walt Whitman may have given us one of the best definitions of good mental health. A corollary to that might be that maturity is understanding that we all have our contradictions:  After all, who tries to live by any book or idea, to the letter, once he or she has had to hold down a job

Anyway, I won’t try to assess whether, or how well, some Hasidic men in Brooklyn understand their own internal (and sometimes external) juxtapositions.  I do, however, find it interesting that when Citibike went online just over a decade ago, the Ultra-Orthodox community of South Williamsburg included some of the bike-share program’s most enthusiastic users—and some of its fiercest opponents.

While “Williamsburg” became synonymous with “hipster” and “gentrification,” the area south of the eponymous bridge to Manhattan remained one of this city’s two major Hasidic enclaves. (Borough Park is the other. East Williamsburg is, arguably, the heart of the Big Apple’s Puerto Rican community.) One notable difference between Hasidim and the hipsters and Nuyoricans is family size.  That leaves little, if any room, for a bicycle in their living quarters.

Another visible difference is that from sundown on Friday to sundown on Saturday, streets on Hasidic neighborhoods are deserted, except when people are walking to or from shul. And, of course, there is sartorial style: It, shall we say, leaves much to the imagination.

That last point was an argument against installing Citibike ports in the neighborhood. Some Hasidic rabbis and other community leaders complained that those blue bikes streamed “immodest” riders—or, in thr words of one Reddit commenter “sexy ass hipster girls” —down their neighborhood’s streets.

A result of this tension was the “Hasidic hole” or, as one wag put it, “black hat hole” of Citibike availability. Hasidim were walking as much as a mile to access the bikes.

The map on the left reflects Citi Bike last year. The map on the right is the current coverage. (The green zone is the Brooklyn Navy Yard, which is not a public area)

Recently, freshman City Council member Lincoln Restler, who is Jewish but not Hasidic or even Orthodox, has been doing what his predecessor Stephen Levin (also Jewish but not Orthodox) couldn’t. He has negotiated with Hasidic leaders to shrink that “hole” and make Citibike—which now includes eBikes—more accessible. He is also working to bring more bicycle infrastructure to a part of the city that is better-served than most.

His efforts might allow a community to accept its contradictions:  People might profess shock and dismay over “sexy ass Hipster girls” (who, I assure them, don’t include me!) but they appreciate the convenience and fun of cycling.