Designing Our Cities for Joy
The birds are louder than ever these days. I’ve heard a lot of people remark on this fact and, indeed, it’s the case in my neighborhood, too. For the first time in my life, I can walk down my street and hear birds chirping without the dull roar of traffic ever-present in the background. I can hear children laughing and windows opening and silverware clinking on plates, too.
At this point in time with so much of the world at a standstill, I find myself left enjoying the same pleasures of life that I imagine my ancestors did: the warmth of the sun on a beautiful summer's morning, eating a homemade meal, celebrating the birth of a baby, saying hello to a friend I haven't seen in a while, falling into bed at the end of a long day…
I’m thankful every single morning just to wake up healthy, and to hear that family and friends are feeling healthy, too. And I am mindful every day of my fellow Americans who are battling for their lives, dying alone in hospital rooms and struggling just to get by. The sun is shining, yet there is so much pain and loss.
I am an optimist at heart, though, and I constantly turn my attention toward how we can grow better as a society, where we can still find joy amidst the heartbreak.
How do we design cities that prioritize the simple joys around us for all people—now and in the generations to come? How do we cultivate towns where everyone can enjoy these basic pleasures of life?
Too often, our cities and towns have been constructed in a way that actually prevents us from finding joy in the simple things. Fast-moving roads that allow us to zip from the supermarket to the office, attached garages that enable us to exit and enter our homes without ever seeing our neighbors, huge schools and churches on the edge of town that have lost the ability to be community gathering places for all, highway bypasses and shopping centers that have received more tax dollars than public spaces for neighborhood life…
These were all built to make things “easier” and more “efficient,” but they have detracted from the basic experience of simple, joyful lives in community with others. What’s more, these actions have bankrupted our cities to the point where our local leaders tell us that basic things like safe sidewalks and clean parks are not within the municipal budget.
We have also constructed our cities and towns in ways that were intended to exclude or harm our neighbors: redistributions of tax dollars out of core neighborhoods in order to prop up suburban areas, zoning laws and redlining that prevent people of color from living in wealthy areas, public engagement systems that rubber-stamp projects with the veneer of input instead of actually asking residents what they need…
This global pandemic has given people like me—who have jobs, good health and decent housing—a taste of the simple joys of life out of sheer luck. But it has put additional pressure and pain on the lives of folks who were already struggling to pay their mortgage or rent, who worked in low-paying service industry jobs, or who suffer chronic health problems. As I’ve been enjoying sunlit walks with birds chirping above me, I know that many of my neighbors have been holed up in cramped, unsafe housing, worrying about how they’re going to pay their utility bills or get food for their family.
I want to take the lessons of this time—that simple joys are all around us—and turn them into action.
I want everyone in my city to be able to safely walk to a public space where they can enjoy the day and have a barbecue with friends or let their kids play on a playground.
I want everyone in my city to have the ability to rent or buy a home where their families can cook good food, sleep soundly and spend time together.
I want everyone in my city to know their neighbors—to share meals together, support one another, advocate for each other’s concerns.
This vision can be achieved with an approach to cities and towns that isn’t focused on efficiency, speed and growth, but instead prioritizes resiliency, small bets and incremental adaptation. When we pay more attention to our neighborhoods’ sidewalks than to new highway projects, when we spend more time truly listening to all the residents in our communities than bending our ears to the biggest business that promises new “investment” in our towns, then we will know we are on the right track.
Rachel Quednau serves as Program Director at Strong Towns. Trained in dialogue facilitation and mediation, she is devoted to building understanding across lines of difference. Previously, Rachel worked for several organizations fighting to end homelessness and promote safe, affordable housing at the federal and local levels. Rachel also served as Content Manager for Strong Towns from 2015-2018. A native Minnesotan and honorary Wisconsinite, Rachel received a Masters in Religion, Ethics, and Politics from Harvard Divinity School and a Certificate in Conflict Transformation from the Boston Theological Interreligious Consortium, both in 2020. She currently lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with her husband and young son. One of her favorite ways to get to know a new city is by going for a walk in it.