Changing Our Places (and Ourselves) One Step at a Time

The other day, I was in a Zoom meeting with a bunch of other Winnipeggers who want to see safer speed limits in our city (Winnipeg, Manitoba). Many folks wanted to get involved, so we were talking about opportunities to speak to our city council at an upcoming public meeting. We reviewed what made a good presentation and the logistics of registering. Towards the end of the call, one person put their hand up and said that, while they could not speak at the city council on the day in question, they wondered about submitting a short letter detailing their personal reasons for caring about safer streets.

What was interesting to me was the difference of opinion about whether this small action was useful or worth the time spent. Everyone was in agreement that appearing in person was the preferred and more effective action…but what about sending in written comments? 

Some folks felt that it was a waste of effort, given that it wasn’t likely the written submissions would actually be read by council members. Others felt that it was important, because the volume of written and in-person comments conveyed a message about the demand for change, and every little bit of support adds up. 

While I absolutely believe that presenting in person is a powerful action, I’m generally in the second camp, the one that believes that every little bit helps. Here’s why.

Everyone Starts Somewhere

Here’s what I’ve noticed: Everybody starts somewhere, and you never know when or where that moment will occur.

For me and my husband, our interest in helping to shape a happier and healthier city rose from the experience of teaming up with neighbors to try to stop a pawn shop from opening in our neighborhood. Our neighborhood teeters between decline and prosperity. Like many other people in the community, we saw a new pawn shop as a step in the wrong direction, something that would not add to the quality of life for residents but rather add to the existing landscape of predatory lending that had sprung up in the absence of useful banking services.

Over the course of those few weeks, we sat in many hastily called meetings, sent flurries of email, and strategized to connect with staff at the local neighborhood renewal nonprofit, the minister from a local church, our local elected officials, and as many neighbours as we could rally. We arrived at city hall armed with our research and our arguments and spent a long day taking turns getting up to speak. In the end, we were successful.

That experience led me to a passion for community building through neighborhood events, and I suddenly found myself the co-chair of a neighborhood association. A little later, I stumbled into advocating for street trees, safer streets and housing. And it was because of that experience that I was primed to listen when my brother-in-law mentioned a little organization called Strong Towns.

A Moment of Change

In my years of being part of the Strong Towns movement, some of the deepest truths I’ve gleaned have been one-off comments made in podcasts or webinars.

When I heard Tiffany Owens Reed’s interview with Jon Jon Wesolowski on The Bottom Up Revolution almost a year ago, this particular bit struck me deeply:

What I’ve found is that showing up for public comment changes the individual that’s given the comment. The introvert that’s terrified of speaking in front of a group. The extrovert that canceled plans with family to hear, like, a zoning meeting or whatever.

Here, Jon Jon is making the point that showing up is important. In his anecdote, after a tragic and fatal collision in his city of Chattanooga, 150 people turned out for public comment and succeeded in pressuring city officials into taking swift action. I saw myself keenly in Jon Jon’s observation because of the experience we’d had fending off the pawn shop.

But I also heard something else in there. I heard that doing something changes you. And I know from my experience and observations that it’s true.

What I remember about the pawn shop saga is the late nights, the frenzied emails, the way my hands shook as I took the lectern, and the photo we clipped from the community newspaper afterward, which captured us smiling wearily and triumphantly. But here’s something funny. The mundane, not-so-exhilarating thing that precipitated all of that was simply receiving a text from a neighbor who had seen the public notice about the pawn shop. That text prompted us to write a letter of opposition. A letter that gave us the right to appeal.

Before that moment, I was a person who grumbled about potholes and how lousy transit was in Winnipeg. Afterward, I was a person who believed that I had agency and the ability to effect change — or at least to try. It’s funny to think back now and imagine the completely different trajectory my life may have taken if I hadn’t seen the neighbor’s text or had decided it wasn’t a big deal.

Writing a letter was more than my husband and I had ever done. We even thought the letter would be the end of it, but it was really just the beginning.

We weren’t activists or advocates — until we wrote a letter.

Ripple Effects

Usually, the point of “doing something” is to make a positive change in your neighborhood, city or even the world. When we don’t succeed at the task at hand — changing a policy, securing funding or whatever the case may be — we don’t need to see this as failure. There’s often a ripple effect, even if we don’t know it at the time. By doing something, you’ve left crumbs and planted seeds for other people: an ally who can now come across your name and know they’re not alone, a curious journalist who reaches out to you for comment, or a future researcher who's piecing together the story of how change happened.

But I think what’s so important to remember — even and maybe especially when you don’t succeed — is that you’ve also changed yourself. You are no longer the same person.

In moments when you feel you’ve failed, it’s easy to discount how big a deal that personal change is. But the pursuit of stronger places is a long game, with many ups and downs. Our neighborhoods, towns and cities may feel hopelessly stuck sometimes, but we ourselves are always learning and changing and adapting. We just need to give ourselves the grace to see it.

I’m not a New Year’s resolution type of person, but I do like to put wishes and hopes out into the universe. My wish this year is for anyone who reads this to believe that even the smallest actions — simply doing what you can, when you can — can make a difference. It might even be an unexpected beginning.

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