Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Race Walking

I've mentioned before that living on a walkable scale tends to bring the people in my various circles into 3D reality. By living in a smaller radius, people start filling multiple roles and cease being simply objects in my world. They are, like me, multifaceted.
I like the ability to walk around a person and see them from different angles - musician, employee, parent, person of religious convictions and questions - and I think the walking scale community is worth pursuing for this reason alone. But the reality of our society is that it is rooted in a racist past and is careening toward a deeply racist future. Adopting walking as a mode of transportation can limit the spread of racism.
By racism, I mean simply this: dividing the world into "us" and "them" on the basis of racial categories. Suburban reality is admirably arranged to promote racism. Single use zoning on a scale that requires automobile transportation predicts that most of the people we meet we will know in only one dimension. Thus if a Latino person lives near me, he will only impact me as a neighbor. If he drives in to mow my lawn, I will register his presence as a paid worker. An automotive way of life makes knowing this Latino person as a person, like me, having things in common with me as well as things that are different, unlikely. My tendency will be to view people who do not look like me as not like me. In other words, not us, but them.
It is agonizing to watch our country, with its ideals of religious freedom and history of conscious struggle toward equality for African Americans, choose a deeply xenophobic and stingy approach to legal and illegal immigrants from Latin America; and to adopt the language of religious war against people from Arab cultures. We are allowing ourselves to be reduced to our worst - by those who profit from our fears. We look at a person who could be Mexican, and we suspect they might be illegally in the U.S. We see a person who could be Arab, and are tempted to wonder what harm they are planning.
As I listen to my high school aged daughters process the racism in our culture, it seems to me that the alternative that is being presented to them (and all of us) is to rise above it. We ought not judge people by appearances, and ought to treat all people equally. This strikes me as liberal idealism (and, please understand me: there are worse labels than "liberal idealist") at its stupidest: simply educate people and they'll stop negative behavior. As I watch people age, I see them try to live by such ideals as teens and young adults, and then slip into resentful racism once they realize that jobs are scarce and billions of citizens' tax dollars are being spent each day to fight terrorism.
The only thing that fights racist ideas and assumptions is getting to know people as more, not simply other, than the color of their skin or the circumstances of their birth. That is, to see them as people. At first, people will strike us both "them" and "us". With continued interaction, however, they become simply "us". They care about their kids and the schools they attend; they're fussy about their yards in ways that I am not; they tend to smoke too much and are trying to quit. They are people: broken, hopeful, predictable, and unpredictable.
Getting to know people like this, especially people who start out as "them", takes a hugely intentional effort. Every Martin Luther King Jr. day we make promises to spend more time with people not like us. But with very few exceptions, people don't carry through on these promises. Forming a book club or a dinner club to "build bridges" is just another complication in life, no matter how noble; just another event to schedule, another plate to keep spinning.
Living on a walking scale allows me to develop natural relationships with people around me, relationships that reflect commonalities as well as supply and need. In suburban America, single use zoning will tend to insist that my neighbors inhabit the same economic bracket as I do, along with a host of other defining traits. But even here, I have found that people resist categorization - at the very least they exhibit a rich tapestry of stories that have brought them to this socially uniform place.
I walk to fight racism.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

The People in Your Neighborhood

I grew up watching Sesame Street, and many of its jingles pop up in my brain 40 years later. There was a bit about people in your neighborhood, particularly occupations: "they're the people that you meet when you're walking down the street". Things change, of course, for those of us who move from Sesame Street, with it's old world walk ups and corner groceries, to the American suburbs. Where I live, hardly anybody walks. And when we do, we probably don't meet anybody. In the off chance we do, it's not a person working - it's just another walker. Actually, the only part of the Sesame Street song that's still coming true is the verse about the garbage man. I think walking holds the key to moving back to Sesame Street.

What happens when we start to walk places - I mean, not just walk in exercise loops, but intentionally choose to leave the car at home and conduct our business within walking distance? It's been my experience that it changes the nature of business, of how I interact economically with other people. There was a discount department store where I grew up whose slogan was "the lowest price is the law". It occurs to me now that most of the time we live as if this is true: we will shop wherever we get the best deal. But I am learning to remind myself that price does not necessarily reflect cost. An inexpensive product from China costs some company and its employees here in lost revenue (which also costs me in increased welfare costs and decreased tax revenue), and costs the environment in shipping and whatever the Chinese government allows manufacturers to do that we no longer permit our own manufacturers to do. An inexpensive product from Walmart may cost my community a job that would have paid a bit more than Walmart does. An inexpensive hamburger from McDonalds may cost me in health bills down the road.

Simply put, there are costs associated with any product that our economic system either underestimates (and hence passes on to some one to pay later) or disregards completely. David Wann (he co-wrote Affluenza) in his book Simple Prosperity attempts to provide a more realistic picture of what things cost by listing the things he gained by choosing a simpler life style – and by simpler he means “making less money by working less”. By having less money to spend, he uncovered other values that weren’t reflected in dollars. It's up to each person to examine the true costs of any commodity or service, not just the price tag.

As the locavore movement has pointed out, one of the underestimated and hidden costs for food is fossil fuels - each calorie of food consumes nearly 90 calories in transportation and processing. So I've decided to get eggs, milk, vegetables, pork, beef, and chicken from local farmers. Some of it costs more than what the store will sell it to me for, but here are the things I get from buying food locally:

  • the knowledge that I'm keeping a local farmer in business and tax dollars in my community
  • a role in keeping land in agricultural production rather than grass, concrete, or asphalt
  • a role in keeping agricultural skills alive in this area for people who would like to learn them
  • the ability to look the producer in the eye before I put something in my body
  • a connection to the earth and its creatures, its cycles, its dignity
  • a desire to pay a price that supports the farmer and her business, not just the least I can get away with
  • deeper gratitude for the food I eat, as I understand the commitment required to provide it
  • a stronger network in my community, since these people know other people who I could know
Shortening the distance the product moves provides these benefits. Shortening the distance that I move can have similar benefits. When I walk to buy things or services, I strengthen my community, keep people working who will in turn keep me working, keep skills alive so that young people living here can learn them, develop an economic relationship that has social and moral overtones, and increase my gratitude for the things I have received because I understand the work that went into them.
While it's true that intentional driving in a restricted radius could have the same effect, walking is a more natural, healthy, and democratic way to accomplish the decision to buy locally.