As November approaches, NYC voters are evaluating mayoral plans for housing and transportation. Advocates are pushing for feminist, inclusive infrastructure that works for everyone.
Frantic, I keep checking my phone for the arrival of the New York City public bus I am waiting for. It finally arrives, 10 minutes after the scheduled time, meaning I will be late for school. With each stop it makes, the bus fills with students like me and people heading to work. Women and toddlers also board in force, lugging more baby strollers than I can count. As the strollers pile up, I scan the bus, wondering how many more can possibly fit. It is a Jenga-like ordeal, and I overhear a group of caregivers confidently affirm how five strollers can be tilted, folded and configured to fit in the bus.
This is the silent role public infrastructure plays in action. Infrastructure greets us on our daily commute, provides livable spaces for us outside, shepherds kids to and from school. Infrastructure is fundamental to our well-being as citizens, essential to a functioning democracy. And to work for all of us, it must be considered through a feminist lens.
As the mayoral candidates propose their vision of the future of New York City, we must recognize and reclaim the need for a feminist city infrastructure—one accommodating of all New Yorkers.
As I think back on those strollers, and the moms and caregivers who push and carry most of them, I can’t help but question who is making decisions about urban transportation infrastructure and the people who use it. Three years ago, The New York Times reported that the Metropolitan Transit Authority, which runs all of the public transportation in the city, has a plan for making subway stations 95 percent accessible, which primarily means construction of new elevators and ramps.
Yet this project is estimated to take another 35 years. Those babies will be pushing strollers of their own by then.
As the nation is now well aware, urban infrastructure loomed large in the New York City mayoral primary in June and will continue to be a major discussion point through the general election in November. Infrastructure, an expansive term for tangible public commodities ranging from education to affordable housing to roadways, carries both historical and current significance for women and minority communities. As the mayoral candidates propose their vision of the future of New York City, we must recognize and reclaim the need for a feminist city infrastructure—one accommodating of all New Yorkers.
When we look around us, we see a mosaic of concrete buildings, brownstone houses, public schools and zebra sidewalks. Yet, even these basics, seemingly necessary and standard, are likely to be built on hidden misogynistic design principles and the outdated idea of “separate spheres” for women and men.
Public transportation in suburbs and cities, for example, assumes that stops follow a linear route to work and back, ignoring all that might happen in between. Women’s and caregivers’ usage of public transportation rarely follows this path, and is much more likely to be dotted by a workplace stop, a grocery store stop, children’s school stops.
Infrastructure has been used historically to further racism, a topic ACLU president and NYU Law professor Deborah Archer explores in her recent book, Dividing Lines. Archer shows how after the fall of Jim Crow, a new generation of segregation took shape via transportation infrastructure—and the decisions made about whose neighborhoods got divided by highways or zoned to be pedestrian-friendly. She argues that in order to make reforms, we must address the racism embedded into our roads and sidewalks. We must bring a feminist lens as well.
In New York City, mayoral candidates are now zeroing in on infrastructure issues that are dramatically apparent to New Yorkers: affordable housing, childcare, accessible transportation, safety, both on the subway and in the streets.
Zohran Mamdani, the winner of the Democratic primary, outlined a plan for 200,000 more publicly subsidized, affordable, union-built and rent-stabilized housing—and stunned voters with plans for free buses, city-owned grocery stores and free childcare.
Andrew Cuomo, who will run as an independent, proposed building and preserving 500,000 housing units over 10 years.
Zellnor Myrie, a sitting New York state senator, would build 1 million new housing units, fund repairs in 150,000 public housing units and create new neighborhoods in currently non-residential areas.
Who Builds Our Cities—And for Whom?
Candidates will continue to share competing visions, each asserting that their plan will be more affordable, safer and better for New Yorkers. Here is another question we must call them to consider: What does a feminist city even look like?
Here are some ideas.
First, they can commit to simple yet systemic changes—better and more lighting (for safety), wider sidewalks (for strollers and allowing for distance from cat callers) and accessible public restrooms designed with gender equity in mind.
Second, it would require diverse urban planning teams, whereas now women occupy only 10 percent of senior positions in the field globally.
As we have seen when cities prioritize bike paths, environmentally conscious public spaces and accessible transportation, infrastructure investments come to benefit everyone. And this goes far beyond cities. Currently, the Trump administration is gutting necessary infrastructure funding and implementation at the federal level including disaster relief and energy project funding.
My hope is that come November, New York City will lead the way in recognizing and making political the commitment to equitable and sustainable infrastructure—and that it will do so in a way that is grounded in feminist vision.
