Monday, November 4, 2013
Make Fatherhood a Man’s Choice
My mother was unable to obtain an illegal abortion, though she tried, in 1967 when she learned she was pregnant with me. Instead, she attempted paternity fraud—passing me off to her boyfriend as his child though I was actually fathered by another man. Her boyfriend, who became my putative father, married her and then clued in when I was born, totally healthy, three months “prematurely.” He went along with it, though. They divorced when I was six years old, but he paid child support until I was eighteen, $270 a month. I’m a product of child support, and it was a necessary part of the financial picture for me and my Mom, who did not have a college education and often worked two jobs during my childhood. My mother would race home from work, check the mail, and, when the check was there, we would go to the drive-in window, open until 7 pm, at the local branch of the Union Trust bank to deposit the check. Then she would get $20 cash back (this was the days before ATMs) and we would splurge on a pizza at the neighborhood Italian place next door. On the way home we’d swing by the post office and she’d mail the envelopes with checks she’d been holding in her purse for days to C & P Telephone and to PEPCO for the electric and to Washington Gas. The next day came the grocery store. The connection was very clear: the bills didn’t get paid without the child support. The food didn’t get put on the table without the check from “dad.”
Despite all of this and in complete keeping with my deep-seated feminism, I believe that making fatherhood optional—as motherhood is—and revamping the child support system to stop requiring financial support from noncustodial parents (usually men) who want to opt out early is good for women, men, and the kids in question. In addition, we should further our support of women who choose to opt out of motherhood via abortion or adoption as well. It’s time to make parenthood a true choice, on every level.
Over the past fifteen years, some feminists have argued that ending the current child support system is an important social issue. In the October 19, 2000 issue of Salon, Cathy Young argued that women’s freedom to choose parenthood is a reproductive right men do not have but should. Her article, “A Man’s Right to Choose,” identifies abortion rights and adoption as options that allow women greater sexual freedom than men when a sexual encounter results in conception. While there are alternatives to parental responsibility for women, for men, “in the eyes of the law, it seems that virtually no circumstances, however bizarre or outrageous, can mitigate the biological father’s liability for child support.” Kerrie Thornhill’s article “A Feminist Argument Against Child Support” in the July 18, 2011 issue of Partisans picks up this point, arguing that where birth control and safe abortion are legally available, choosing a sexual encounter should be a different choice than choosing to be a parent. She offers a three-step replacement for the current child support system. First, Thornhill writes that “when informed of a partner’s pregnancy, a man should get a single, time-sensitive opportunity to choose fatherhood.” Second, by accepting, a man would assume all the responsibilities of fatherhood, but by declining he would legally be no different than a sperm donor. Finally, she suggests that for low-income families, state-funded child support should exist. In her article “Is Forced Fatherhood Fair?” for the June 12, 2013 edition of the New York Times, Laurie Shrage echoes Kerrie Thornhill’s sentiment when she opines, “In consenting to sex, neither a man nor a woman gives consent to become a parent.” She argues that if one believes that women shouldn’t be penalized for sexual activity by limiting options such as birth control, abortion, adoption, and safe haven laws (laws that provide a safe space for parents to give up babies), then men’s options shouldn’t be limited either. These writers all point out that motherhood should be a voluntary condition. Shrage and Thornhill agree that the construct that fatherhood after birth is mandatory needs to change.
Feminist response in opposition to the idea of giving men an opt-out of child support has been swift and passionate, including from many writers and publications I deeply respect. Pieces like Mary Elizabeth Williams’ “There Is No ‘Forced Fatherhood’ Crisis,” June 13, 2013, in Salon; Jill Filipovic’s June 17, 2013 blog post at Feministe titled “Is It Unfair to Force Men to Support Their Children?” ; and Meher Ahmad’s“’Forced Fatherhood’? Yeah, Okay, Whatever” in Jezebel from June 13, 2013 all followed quickly on the heels of Laurie Shrage’s New York Times appearance. I have a deep admiration for all three of these writers and publications, yet take strong issues with each piece. Mary Elizabeth Williams tells a personal and compelling anecdote about how her father abandoned her family before she was born. She points out that this occurred before Roe v. Wade. Her story is a poignant example of why abortion and adoption need to be legal and available options, but it is a straw man as an argument against Laurie Shrage’s position. Shrage, along with Thornhill and Young, explicitly states that legal and available abortion is a necessary component of a woman’s reproductive autonomy and only suggests changing child support laws as a means to bring to men a similar reproductive autonomy to what women enjoy. Filipovic wonders at what point a man should no longer be able to sever his parental rights. She doesn’t have to wonder, however, since Shrage both indicates that she is talking about obtaining informed consent at the time of assigning paternity but also states that child support makes sense in the case of divorce because a man already accepted the responsibility of fatherhood. Ahmad goes so far as to acknowledge that the system is unfair to men, but argues that women face so much more unfairness that we shouldn’t care. Her claim that forced motherhood is more difficult than forced fatherhood is certainly true, given the burdens of pregnancy and childbirth. However, that inequity is not a reason to enact policy that forces fatherhood.
No one needs to make me understand how important child support is. I understand firsthand from my own childhood that child support is often a critical part of a child’s economic well-being or lack of same. The thing that keeps kids out of poverty keeps the food on the table. And beyond my own experience, the statistics on the importance of child support are unimpeachable—the money matters. However, I agree with the bulk of the points made in the pieces cited above that suggest we need to allow men an option out of fatherhood. (To be clear, like these authors, I am not talking about cases in which people have decided to have a child together and then one person wants to opt out. I’m talking about a short window during pregnancy—so that women have enough time to make their own decision about which reproductive choice they are going to make in light of the man’s decision, in case that is a factor for them.) As Thornhill argues, men should have a window of time to decide whether or not they are going to sign up for fatherhood, and after that they will either be treated like a sperm donor or be held financially liable. It’s close to parity with the choice women have—and fairness is a basic feminist value. Further, this system allows for women’s total reproductive autonomy and by doing so, we inherently advance women’s sexual and economic autonomy as well as strengthen feminism itself. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, we improve the economic safety and well-being of any resultant children by ensuring adequate state support when necessary.
by Anna March, Salon | Read more:
Image: Kasia Bialasiewicz/Shutterstock
I Sing the Bike Electric
A long, long, time ago, when Twitter did not exist and the Winklevoss twins were still in high school, I got into biking. Though I was 48 when I started, I had the power and speed of a longtime features writer. Even on trips with people who appeared to be in their late 70s I was last. My last long trip, which I took with my friend Herb, was in California wine country, when the temperature was in the low 90s.
“Have you noticed that the migrant workers are sitting under the shade while the two New Yorkers are out here trying to get up the hill?” I asked Herb, somewhere south of Bodega Bay.
About a half-hour later, dazed with heat and exhaustion, I fell on a ragged piece of pavement and broke my thumb. The next year, Herb and I started renting a house in the country.
It was in these years I learned the big lie of bike tour advertising: “gently rolling hills.” There are no gentle hills in biking. If it’s not a big, fat geographic lump that can be viewed from space and just about kills you it is not a hill. I spent a lot of time in France and Northern California and New Jersey walking up gently rolling hills.
This was why I was enchanted, a while back, to notice that some bike tour outfits, like Butterfield & Robinson, were offering electric motorized bikes or e-bikes. I couldn’t rent any e-bikes in New York City because while the city now has a bike-share program that encourages helmetless tourists to drive into buses and federal law allows e-bikes as long as they don’t go over 20 miles an hour, riding an e-bike here can get you a $500 fine. You can buy the bikes here, you just can’t ride them. The impetus was said to be speeding food delivery guys, though from what I see on the street nobody told them.
I find an e-bike company called Pedego, based in Irvine, Calif., whose 56-year-old chief executive, Don DiCostanzo, arranges a loan. His boomer work-out philosophy:
“We want to get some exercise and we don’t want to work too hard at it.”
His Brooklyn-based dealer, Damon Victor, at Greenpath Electric Bikes, who sells throughout the northeast United States, delivers two bikes: the Step-Thru Interceptor and the City Commuter, both of which retail for $2,895. They are gorgeous, with leather seats and handlebars. They are also enormous, the Clydesdales of biking, both weighing in at just under 60 pounds. The bike I normally ride, a Terry Symmetry, is 22 pounds.
You can ride these bikes with no motorized assistance, with occasional assistance with the turn of a hand throttle adjacent to the right handlebar, or with the push of a button near the left handlebar, which gives you constant pedal assistance in four levels up to 20 miles an hour. My average speed is 8. Damon gives me a sidewalk lesson punctuated by my hollering when I switch into a power mode and the bike rockets off. I am not used to a bike doing so much when I do nothing. In a way, it’s like a vibrator.
“Have you noticed that the migrant workers are sitting under the shade while the two New Yorkers are out here trying to get up the hill?” I asked Herb, somewhere south of Bodega Bay.About a half-hour later, dazed with heat and exhaustion, I fell on a ragged piece of pavement and broke my thumb. The next year, Herb and I started renting a house in the country.
It was in these years I learned the big lie of bike tour advertising: “gently rolling hills.” There are no gentle hills in biking. If it’s not a big, fat geographic lump that can be viewed from space and just about kills you it is not a hill. I spent a lot of time in France and Northern California and New Jersey walking up gently rolling hills.
This was why I was enchanted, a while back, to notice that some bike tour outfits, like Butterfield & Robinson, were offering electric motorized bikes or e-bikes. I couldn’t rent any e-bikes in New York City because while the city now has a bike-share program that encourages helmetless tourists to drive into buses and federal law allows e-bikes as long as they don’t go over 20 miles an hour, riding an e-bike here can get you a $500 fine. You can buy the bikes here, you just can’t ride them. The impetus was said to be speeding food delivery guys, though from what I see on the street nobody told them.
I find an e-bike company called Pedego, based in Irvine, Calif., whose 56-year-old chief executive, Don DiCostanzo, arranges a loan. His boomer work-out philosophy:
“We want to get some exercise and we don’t want to work too hard at it.”
His Brooklyn-based dealer, Damon Victor, at Greenpath Electric Bikes, who sells throughout the northeast United States, delivers two bikes: the Step-Thru Interceptor and the City Commuter, both of which retail for $2,895. They are gorgeous, with leather seats and handlebars. They are also enormous, the Clydesdales of biking, both weighing in at just under 60 pounds. The bike I normally ride, a Terry Symmetry, is 22 pounds.
You can ride these bikes with no motorized assistance, with occasional assistance with the turn of a hand throttle adjacent to the right handlebar, or with the push of a button near the left handlebar, which gives you constant pedal assistance in four levels up to 20 miles an hour. My average speed is 8. Damon gives me a sidewalk lesson punctuated by my hollering when I switch into a power mode and the bike rockets off. I am not used to a bike doing so much when I do nothing. In a way, it’s like a vibrator.
by Joyce Wadler, NY Times | Read more:
Image: Pedego Electric Bike Company
‘As Long as You’re Watching People Have Sex, You Could Be Learning Something’
The character of Johnson (however closely she hews to her real-life counterpart) is both a galvanizing force and a lightning rod, who goes around upending people’s schemata and otherwise generally not fitting in. A mildly harried single working mother with limited resources — that is, an exemplar for what we would now call bad life choices — Johnson is nonetheless portrayed as by far the happiest, most satisfied, least frustrated character on the show. And the writers aren’t the least bit equivocal in this: She derives her happiness and satisfaction from asking nothing more and nothing less from sex than pleasure (unlinking it from money); and from being creatively engaged in her work.
Johnson’s charm upsets the absurdly brittle and buttoned-up Dr. DePaul (Julianne Nicholson), the hospital’s sole female doctor, who resents the way Johnson is allowed to flaunt her “beauty and allure,” whereas Dr. DePaul feels obligated to hide every aspect of her female self if she wants to be taken seriously as a professional. One idea “Masters of Sex” keeps returning to is how not in control of their sexual identities women were back then; how blithely they were sorted into slots; how casually idealized or debased; how easily reduced to a single function. Of course, the in-joke is that every respectable character on the show “deviates” in one way or another, or longs to. Only Johnson allows herself to be everything she is, which is why there’s something about her that feels somehow modern, even anachronistic.
At this early point in its life span, “Masters of Sex” is still dwelling in the moment just before control over women’s sexuality and reproduction began to shift from men to women. But from where we stand, we can observe another shift. Sex may be completely out in the open now, but for all its prevalence, as I learned at the pornography conference, it still feels schematic and hidebound. In the past 30 years, ideas about what makes women “sexy” have become narrower, more rigid and more pornographic in their focus on display and performance. The pervasiveness of the porn aesthetic is especially insidious for young girls’ self-perception, as they constantly absorb the message that the modern choice comes down to either abject invisibility or duck-faced selfies across a portfolio of social-media accounts. I’m not exactly sure what I’m looking at when I see Kim Kardashian or Miley Cyrus, or their millions of adolescent imitators. But I’m pretty sure it’s not liberation.
by Carina Chocano, NY Times | Read more:
Image: Tom Gauld
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Herbal Supplements Are Often Not What They Seem
Americans spend an estimated $5 billion a year on unproven herbal supplements that promise everything from fighting off colds to curbing hot flashes and boosting memory. But now there is a new reason for supplement buyers to beware: DNA tests show that many pills labeled as healing herbs are little more than powdered rice and weeds.
Using a test called DNA barcoding, a kind of genetic fingerprinting that has also been used to help uncover labeling fraud in the commercial seafood industry, Canadian researchers tested 44 bottles of popular supplements sold by 12 companies. They found that many were not what they claimed to be, and that pills labeled as popular herbs were often diluted — or replaced entirely — by cheap fillers like soybean, wheat and rice.
Consumer advocates and scientists say the research provides more evidence that the herbal supplement industry is riddled with questionable practices. Industry representatives argue that any problems are not widespread.
For the study, the researchers selected popular medicinal herbs, and then randomly bought different brands of those products from stores and outlets in Canada and the United States. To avoid singling out any company, they did not disclose any product names.
Among their findings were bottles of echinacea supplements, used by millions of Americans to prevent and treat colds, that contained ground up bitter weed, Parthenium hysterophorus, an invasive plant found in India and Australia that has been linked to rashes, nausea and flatulence.
Two bottles labeled as St. John’s wort, which studies have shown may treat mild depression, contained none of the medicinal herb. Instead, the pills in one bottle were made of nothing but rice, and another bottle contained only Alexandrian senna, an Egyptian yellow shrub that is a powerful laxative. Gingko biloba supplements, promoted as memory enhancers, were mixed with fillers and black walnut, a potentially deadly hazard for people with nut allergies.
Of 44 herbal supplements tested, one-third showed outright substitution, meaning there was no trace of the plant advertised on the bottle — only another plant in its place.
Many were adulterated with ingredients not listed on the label, like rice, soybean and wheat, which are used as fillers.
Using a test called DNA barcoding, a kind of genetic fingerprinting that has also been used to help uncover labeling fraud in the commercial seafood industry, Canadian researchers tested 44 bottles of popular supplements sold by 12 companies. They found that many were not what they claimed to be, and that pills labeled as popular herbs were often diluted — or replaced entirely — by cheap fillers like soybean, wheat and rice.Consumer advocates and scientists say the research provides more evidence that the herbal supplement industry is riddled with questionable practices. Industry representatives argue that any problems are not widespread.
For the study, the researchers selected popular medicinal herbs, and then randomly bought different brands of those products from stores and outlets in Canada and the United States. To avoid singling out any company, they did not disclose any product names.
Among their findings were bottles of echinacea supplements, used by millions of Americans to prevent and treat colds, that contained ground up bitter weed, Parthenium hysterophorus, an invasive plant found in India and Australia that has been linked to rashes, nausea and flatulence.
Two bottles labeled as St. John’s wort, which studies have shown may treat mild depression, contained none of the medicinal herb. Instead, the pills in one bottle were made of nothing but rice, and another bottle contained only Alexandrian senna, an Egyptian yellow shrub that is a powerful laxative. Gingko biloba supplements, promoted as memory enhancers, were mixed with fillers and black walnut, a potentially deadly hazard for people with nut allergies.
Of 44 herbal supplements tested, one-third showed outright substitution, meaning there was no trace of the plant advertised on the bottle — only another plant in its place.
Many were adulterated with ingredients not listed on the label, like rice, soybean and wheat, which are used as fillers.
by Anahad O'Connor, NY Times | Read more:
Image: NBC News
A Wave of Good Indicators
We lived in Boulder, Colo., in a townhouse along a narrow creek. My boyfriend, Brian, and I, along with my three children, our dogs and cat, were shoehorned into the three-level home, with the children’s bedrooms in the basement.
The townhouse was too small for us, but moving presented problems I couldn’t predict, and because staying seemed so simple, we stayed. Then on Sept. 12 at 1:45 a.m., after more than a year’s worth of rain had fallen in a week, that narrow creek became a raging wave of debris. Thanks to the police scanner, we had a few minutes of warning.
My first response was to save what I could from the basement. As I stuffed clothes into bags, I could see the pressure building behind the big basement window, and water was pouring through the frame. When the glass exploded into the room a moment later, an airborne shard sliced into my calf. By the time I reached the stairs, the water was ankle deep. Within minutes, the basement had flooded to the ceiling and the cat litter box bobbed next to the washer and dryer.
Brian and I had met in the stands watching our sons play lacrosse. Brian’s son was like him, playing offense with such a lack of effort that it looked like play. My son was like me: intense, focused and driven. He wanted to understand and control the field.
I looked forward to seeing Brian in the stands, and knew I was falling in love with him, but I was playing it safe, keeping my emotions hidden.
Brian is a mechanic. He drinks beer. He hunts, butchers and eats elk and deer. I am a vegetarian health nut who prides myself on planning and articulating. He is the one at the party who starts the water-balloon fight that rages for hours and turns into a full-on soak down. I am the one who grabs all the cellphones and takes them inside.
When he first asked me out, I said no. I was too worried about how our relationship might affect our sons on their team. Instead I said, “Ask me again when the season’s over.”
We started talking on the phone every day. Eventually I said yes to a date, but I remained cautious. When we kissed the first time, it was behind a restaurant in a dim alley. This was my strategy: no one should find out. I was worried my children would have a hard time accepting a new man in my life, and I needed to be sure. I convinced myself that I could plan and then play it all out safely.
When Brian wanted us to move in together, I flipped out.
“What does this mean?” I asked. I wanted him to show me how it would work. I needed to find the flaws in the plan so I could prevent horrible things from happening. I needed the complete playbook for blending families.
Brian allowed me, with good humor, the time to worry, and he still made life fun. I saw where we were headed, and I was hoping to forestall the M-word for a while so I could get all my ducks lined up in a tight row. But when he asked me to marry him, I couldn’t say no. He’s the one who makes me laugh, makes me enjoy life — even vacuuming.
I said yes but asked, “What made you want to do this?”
by Michelle Auerbach, NY Times | Read more:
The townhouse was too small for us, but moving presented problems I couldn’t predict, and because staying seemed so simple, we stayed. Then on Sept. 12 at 1:45 a.m., after more than a year’s worth of rain had fallen in a week, that narrow creek became a raging wave of debris. Thanks to the police scanner, we had a few minutes of warning.My first response was to save what I could from the basement. As I stuffed clothes into bags, I could see the pressure building behind the big basement window, and water was pouring through the frame. When the glass exploded into the room a moment later, an airborne shard sliced into my calf. By the time I reached the stairs, the water was ankle deep. Within minutes, the basement had flooded to the ceiling and the cat litter box bobbed next to the washer and dryer.
Brian and I had met in the stands watching our sons play lacrosse. Brian’s son was like him, playing offense with such a lack of effort that it looked like play. My son was like me: intense, focused and driven. He wanted to understand and control the field.
I looked forward to seeing Brian in the stands, and knew I was falling in love with him, but I was playing it safe, keeping my emotions hidden.
Brian is a mechanic. He drinks beer. He hunts, butchers and eats elk and deer. I am a vegetarian health nut who prides myself on planning and articulating. He is the one at the party who starts the water-balloon fight that rages for hours and turns into a full-on soak down. I am the one who grabs all the cellphones and takes them inside.
When he first asked me out, I said no. I was too worried about how our relationship might affect our sons on their team. Instead I said, “Ask me again when the season’s over.”
We started talking on the phone every day. Eventually I said yes to a date, but I remained cautious. When we kissed the first time, it was behind a restaurant in a dim alley. This was my strategy: no one should find out. I was worried my children would have a hard time accepting a new man in my life, and I needed to be sure. I convinced myself that I could plan and then play it all out safely.
When Brian wanted us to move in together, I flipped out.
“What does this mean?” I asked. I wanted him to show me how it would work. I needed to find the flaws in the plan so I could prevent horrible things from happening. I needed the complete playbook for blending families.
Brian allowed me, with good humor, the time to worry, and he still made life fun. I saw where we were headed, and I was hoping to forestall the M-word for a while so I could get all my ducks lined up in a tight row. But when he asked me to marry him, I couldn’t say no. He’s the one who makes me laugh, makes me enjoy life — even vacuuming.
I said yes but asked, “What made you want to do this?”
by Michelle Auerbach, NY Times | Read more:
Image: Brian Rea
Humans now have the technology to find and catch every last fish on the planet. Trawl nets, drift nets, longlines, GPS, sonar... As a result, fishing operations have expanded to virtually all corners of the ocean over the past century.
That, in turn, has put a strain on fish populations. The world's marine fisheries peaked in the 1990s, when the global catch was higher than it is today.* And the populations of key commercial species like bluefin tuna and cod have dwindled, in some cases falling more than 90 percent.
So just how badly are we overfishing the oceans? Are fish populations going to keep shrinking each year — or could they recover? Those are surprisingly contentious questions, and there seem to be a couple of schools of thought here.
The pessimistic view, famously expressed by fisheries expert Daniel Pauly, is that we may be facing "The End of Fish." One especially dire 2006 study in Science warned that many commercial ocean fish stocks were on pace to “collapse” by mid-century — at which point they would produce less than 10 percent of their peak catch. Then it's time to eat jellyfish.
Other experts have countered that this view is far too alarmist.** A number of countries have worked hard to improve their fisheries management over the years, including Iceland, Australia, New Zealand, and the United States. "The U.S. is actually a big success story in rebuilding fish stocks," Ray Hilborn, a marine biologist at the University of Washington, told me last year. Overfishing isn't inevitable. We can fix it.
Both sides make valid points — but the gloomy view is hard to dismiss. That's the argument of a new paper in Marine Pollution Bulletin by Tony Pitcher and William Cheung of the University of British Columbia that weighs in on this broader debate. They conclude that some fisheries around the world are indeed improving, though these appear to be a minority for now.
"Several deeper analyses of the status of the majority of world fisheries confirm the previous dismal picture," they conclude. "Serious depletions are the norm world-wide, management quality is poor, catch per effort is still declining."
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Jane Jacobs
[ed. I've been thinking about Jane Jacobs today. The problems she identified re: urban planning aren't exclusive to big cities. Small towns suffer from a lack of cultural, economic, generational, and transportation diversity too. Finding just the right mix is the key to creating vibrant and sustainable communities.]
Born in 1916 and raised in the coal-mining town of Scranton, Pennsylvania, Jacobs moved to New York in the mid-1930s and soon found her way to Greenwich Village. Untrained as a city planner, she rose to prominence in New York politics through her work as a neighborhood organizer, most famously opposing über-planner Robert Moses, who wanted to run a ten-lane expressway through lower Manhattan, a travesty of a project which, had it been built, would have leveled great swaths of Little Italy and Soho.
Moses, the Machiavellian central figure of Robert Caro’s biography The Power Broker, earns only passing mentions in The Death and Life and The Economy of Cities, but the books are in many ways an extended polemic against Moses and his vision for a 20th century New York. Moses and like-minded architects such as Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and Le Corbusier sought to clear cities of squalor by replacing tenement slums with vast housing complexes surrounded by parkland and ribbons of highway. In practice, this meant razing entire neighborhoods and stuffing thousands of poor people into high-rise “projects” that soon devolved into crime-ridden towers of drug addiction and despair.
Jacobs’ first great insight was to see cities not as machines for living, but instead as living, breathing organisms. Future planners, she says in The Death and Life, must “think of cities as problems in organized complexity – organisms that are replete with unexamined, but obviously intricately interconnected, and surely understandable, relationships.” But if a city is a living thing, then it can die, and Jacobs’ second great insight was that cities are a self-propagating species. To dump money indiscriminately on a city from outside, in her view, is like sticking a feeding tube down a patient’s throat: it might keep the patient from dying, but it’s not likely to help him get out of bed. The best way to grow a city’s economy is clear away the impediments, architectural, governmental, and economic, that stand in the way of individuals working together to make things for themselves.
Jacobs begins her study of how cities function at the atomic level of a single block, using her own stretch of Hudson Street as her test tube. With a sharp eye and great good sense, she describes how a successful block attracts a diverse set of users, not just residents, but local shopkeepers and visitors from other areas of the city who, without really being aware they are doing so, look out for one another. When it works, she writes, a successful block is the setting for:
an intricate ballet in which the individual dancers and ensembles all have distinctive parts which miraculously reinforce each other and compose an orderly whole. The ballet of a good city sidewalk never repeats itself from place to place, and in any one place is always replete with new improvisations.Jacobs builds upon this image of a “sidewalk ballet” to tackle the knotty problem of how to create a city full of successful blocks. Streets should be short, with wide sidewalks, a good mix of old and new buildings, and a broad range of businesses likely to attract a true diversity of residents and business owners.
by Michael Bourne, The Millions | Read more:
American Beauty
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