Move Forward and Break (Some) Rules
An example of the productive, incremental development pattern in Asheville, North Carolina.
Asheville, North Carolina, will always be a special place for me. It was the city where, in 2012, I discovered my love for cities — a journey which began, as it does for so many, by pulling a copy of Jane Jacobs’ “The Death and Life of Great American Cities” off of a friend’s shelf. That book helped me understand the tumult of emotions I had felt ever since moving to Asheville from New York City for work. Without an urbanist lexicon to understand what I was missing, I fumbled around emotionally, coping by writing a lot of poetry, drinking too much coffee, and informing anyone who asked that I was (sort of) from New York City.
Asheville was a quirky place with pride in being “weird,” and it took some getting used to. At first, I approached from a distance, unsure about drum circles, harem pants, alternative bookstores and lots of dreadlocks. Looking back now, I often kick myself at how snobby I was about it all. There I was living in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains, surrounded by incredible natural beauty, interesting artisans and a thriving local culture. But all I could see was what I had left behind. I couldn’t yet see the beauty of where I had landed. All I knew was that I missed public transportation, walkability, bodegas and street life.
Eventually, wisdom got through to me. During my lunch break one afternoon, I drove myself and my tuna sandwich to a perch up on the Blue Ridge Parkway, contemplating some honest words spoken to me by a new friend: “Everyone knows you don’t want to be here.” It was just the right dosage of honesty I needed to hear and, like a character from the Old Testament, I came down the mountain different from how I went up. I decided I would figure out how to appreciate this place.
Weekends became dedicated to pursuing and patronizing small businesses downtown. During the week, I often finished my work day at one of several coffee shops I kept in rotation. I made friends with musicians and tried my best to get to their shows. I took a film-developing class in the River Arts District. I bought the work of artist friends. When friends came to visit, I was happy to show them my favorite places to eat or catch live music.
In short, I learned how to love a place. Today, I’m proud to list Asheville as one of my favorite cities, and — despite the damage Helene has wrought, the businesses lost and the city's uncertain future — that won’t change anytime soon.
That’s because, for me, Asheville is more than just a great place to sip a delicious craft beer or buy interesting art. Asheville is where I learned an important lesson about cities, not just from reading Jacobs’ book but from being immersed in one of the most interesting local economies I’ve ever seen. All of my wanderings around town, coffee-shop stakeouts, and weekends spent roaming the city streets branded in my psyche the idea that American cities can actually be interesting, unique places.
I’ve looked high and low to find a concise history of how Asheville’s downtown came to feature primarily local businesses or how the city managed to cultivate such a quirky local economy, but the consensus seems to be that it was never a formal policy. Maybe it was just an accident? Accident or not, the lesson of Asheville is that we don’t have to participate in the rinse-and-repeat big-bet strategies that govern how so many of our cities are designed and developed. Our cities can be more than outposts of a national consumer economy.
Okay…that sounds nice, but looking at photos of the damage from Helene, what now? It’s easy to pontificate on the value of cultivating a strong small-business-centered economy, but what do you say when entire rows of businesses (or even some entire towns) get lost in the proverbial blink of an eye? How can that be considered resilient? How could that be considered strong?
It’s true: There is great risk in cultivating the local over the more “stable” big business. If they close or are destroyed, you probably can’t replace them. But there is more to strong local economies than the storefronts you see. There are the invisible networks of relationships, connections and knowledge-sharing that can spark a rebirth. This is the kind of network that makes localism a resilient choice even when its material expression gets swept away. I hope Asheville is able to leverage those connections and put them to work to rebuild in a way that honors its history.
This will require being courageous. It will take courage for the city to reject quick solutions that feel stable but that sacrifice the city’s heart and soul. It will require being creative about what’s permitted. For example, I read an article about a business owner who lost his brewery and probably can’t rebuild because it was a historic building the like of which is prohibitive to build today. Maybe codes like this can be reimagined? It will require being intentional — seeing a particular vision of the future for the city and pursuing that with focus.
Asheville has demonstrated how an American city can successfully embrace localism. Now, the city and many in the surrounding region have to figure out how to rebuild from the ruins. “Weird” Asheville emerged the way it did somewhat accidentally. But the city can’t count on that kind of accident now — much of what allowed its quirky economy to get going in the first place can’t be reengineered based on current rules and regulations. It’s going to take some thinking outside of the lines. From my year of living in Asheville, with its bohemian vibes, funky art and alternative businesses, it’s a chance to do what Asheville is uniquely good at: questioning the rules and maybe even breaking some.
Editor’s Note: We are deeply saddened to see the damage Helene has done to North Carolina. Strong Towns advocates and Local Conversations have helped us compile links, listed below, to ways in which we can help Western North Carolina recover from this disaster. If you’re able, we hope you will pitch in to assist these communities.
Johnston County, NC Relief Fund
Mail to: County of Johnston Relief Fund
PO Box 1049
Smithfield, NC 27577
(Add “Western NC/Helene” to check memo line.)
Tiffany Owens Reed is the host of The Bottom-Up Revolution podcast. A graduate of The King's College and former journalist, she is a New Yorker at heart, currently living in Texas. In addition to writing for Strong Towns and freelancing as a project manager, she reads, writes, and curates content for Cities Decoded, an educational platform designed to help ordinary people understand cities. Explore free resources here and follow her on Instagram @citiesdecoded.