Good urbanism isn't any good if you're not allowed to walk or bike

A dad was arrested because he let his daughter walk alone. Besides the infrastructure itself, neighbors and cops interfere with healthy childhood development.

Today’s built environment doesn’t help adults live healthy lifestyles, and it’s certainly not helping children. There’s a case to be made that a safe place to grow up allows for risky childhood behavior. I use “risk” loosely, because ohhh how child development expectations have changed in our culture.

When my sister and I got home from school, we’d have a snack, change clothes, and go play. If it wasn’t pouring rain, a significant amount of playtime was outside. Not because either of us felt some bond to nature or the great outdoors, but because that’s just what you did. Also, mom was teaching piano lessons in the living room after school, so being loud in the house wasn’t an option. 

By 3:30pm on any given weekday, kids across America were knocking on doors asking one of two questions: “Can you come out and play?” or “Do you wanna go ride bikes?”

We lived in a suburban neighborhood that was developed between 1965 and 1980. Everything was within a 10-minute bike ride: playgrounds, soccer fields, the pool, the library, everybody else’s house, and the woods. The woods is what we called any bigger-than-your-yard area of trees. It had creeks, “secret” passageways to other streets in the neighborhood, mysterious remains of tree forts, and places to just hang out away from grown-ups. 

Some of our play was outside. Like shooting hoops with a crew until our arms got tired. Or using saws, hammers, ropes, chains, and other found tools to make stuff. (A few of us once made what in hindsight I’d call a cargo bike train. Multiple injuries followed.)

But a lot of after-school play was inside. We might sneak into GJ’s house to play Atari for two hours because his parents weren’t home. Or play hide-and-seek in John’s empty house with the lights out. Or listen to the new and oddly addictive Thriller album in Sarah’s basement. Or use a spare VCR to make a copy of a bunch of rated R movies we managed to get our hands on.

My point about neighborhood adventures isn’t that we became one with nature, or longed for healthy exercise. A big difference between then and now is the getting from here to there. We were walking or biking to all the places. Parents were either at work or home doing parent things. No kid in their right mind was asking for a ride to the playground. You got yourself there. If the destination was empty, you’d either make the most of it, or head over to different hangouts until you found familiar faces.

If you didn’t have a similar childhood, I’m sure someone close to you did. We Gen Xers love sharing the glory days of a time when we could be left to our own devices. I think one reason my generation is so nostalgic about our ordinary youth is that it seems otherworldly by today’s standards. Stranger Things is horrific to parents because kids are portrayed bonding on adventures without adult supervision. Kids in the show interact with adults, chase adults, and run from adults. By 2023 standards, the Demogorgon monsters are secondary.

Check out this infuriating story from a New Jersey town:

• Parents let their child walk around the neighborhood.

• Stranger stops child to find out why they’re walking and where they live.

• Stranger calls the cops because parents let their child walk around the neighborhood.

• Cops arrest the dad for protesting, and the court finds dad guilty of being a good dad.

Way back in the olden days, if a stranger walked up to a child asking questions like "where do you live?" and "are you alone?" the stranger was considered suspicious. Countless PSAs were made about this stuff. It was fine and normal for kids to interact with adults, and it was easy to tell if the nature of the conversation was leading to danger.

But now, a stranger asks those questions, follows the child home, gets the child's dad arrested, and is considered a hero. Here’s an interview with a politician from that story who worked to legalize childhood independence. 

You might recognize the author of the New Jersey story, Lenore Skenazy, from her infamous title of World’s Worst Mom. Or maybe you remembered she’s part of my upcoming documentary on unhealthy infrastructure. Listen to her talk for two minutes about childhood independence in this post:

A child can learn to be a person or a package

Independence is getting on a horse and delivering the mail, independence is walking to school, independence is playing flashlight tag at night. But it's also doing almost anything on your own.

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Two common urban planning catch phrases are “all ages and abilities” and “8 to 80.” Here are bumper sticker definitions for each of those bits of jargon:

1. Plan and design places as best you can to support everyone.

2. Plan and design places as best you can to support everyone.

Personal stories are powerful tools to help convert policy jargon into infrastructure practice. It’s important to talk or write about your own experiences and what you’re hearing from others. Watch for stories that might have a headline about parenting or education, but have deeper roots in land use or transportation policy. 

Walk-friendly, bike-friendly neighborhoods are incredibly important for human flourishing. But they’re also only as good as the local authorities allow them to be.

Legalize good urbanism and legalize healthy childhood development.