The Feminist Park Podcast infographic – Episode 3 is Out Now!
In our latest episode, we dive into the brilliant work of Leslie Kern and her groundbreaking book, Feminist City: Claiming Space in a Man-Made World.
This conversation is more than just a critique; it’s a profound exploration of how our urban environments are shaped by a singular perspective. We peel back the layers of city design—from transit systems that ignore caregivers to public restrooms that don’t meet our needs and streets that feel unsafe—to expose what’s been built out of sight and out of mind.
Leslie Kern provides foundational insights from a leading voice in feminist urbanism, directly inspiring our mission at The Feminist Park. Her work is a powerful call to action, challenging us to envision urban spaces infused with care, justice, inclusion, and equity.
Infographics by Sofia Garcia
â–¶ Listen now on Spotify: [https://lnkd.in/e5ypqgdv]
Let’s keep reimagining our cities together and build a world where all genders can truly claim their freedom and presence.
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Based on a groundbreaking book, this episode explores how women navigate and claim space in cities often designed with male experiences predominantly in mind. We delve into profound themes of freedom, fear, and the intricate politics of gender embedded within our urban environments. Leslie Kern provides foundational insights from a leading voice in feminist urbanism, directly inspiring the Feminist Park's mission to challenge existing urban norms and create spaces where women and marginalized genders can truly claim their freedom and presence.
Source for Podcast Episode:
Book/Paper: Feminist City: Claiming Space in a Man-Made World
Author: Leslie Kern
Intro/Outro Music: big-band-tv-show-logo-164230 Music by Anastasia Chubarova from Pixabay
"A park is just a park, open to everyone. [It seems] almost counterintuitive, doesn't it? [But] the benefits we think we all get from urban green spaces... are often deeply gendered." (1:15)
This quote highlights the paradox of public space, introducing the idea that seemingly neutral urban environments can be inequitable and exclusionary.
"A respectable woman, simply by being visible in public, was constantly vulnerable to being mistaken for a... 'public woman,' which often meant a prostitute." (4:20)
This quote illustrates the historical roots of gendered policing in cities, where women's mere presence in public space was viewed as a threat to social order.
"Her point is, these [rape] myths aren't just abstract beliefs. They have a geography. They literally get embedded into women's mental maps of the city." (9:15)
This quote connects the abstract concept of rape culture to the physical reality of urban space, explaining how it restricts women's freedom of movement and shapes their perception of safety.
"The city holds both freedom and fear for women. Cities offered opportunities... unthinkable in smaller towns or rural areas. [But] the narrative is cities are dangerous for women. History says it. Culture reinforces it." (10:13)
This quote captures the central paradox of women's relationship with urban environments, serving as a site of both liberation and constant vigilance.
"Can a woman truly be a flâneur like that? Why not? Because women are so often the objects of the male gaze, constantly aware of being watched, judged, maybe harassed. True detachment is hard, maybe impossible." (14:59)
This quote critiques the idealized figure of the "male city stroller," explaining how the lived reality of the male gaze prevents women from experiencing the city with the same sense of detached observation.
"The default user, the assumed citizen for whom infrastructure is built, is often still that white, able-bodied, heterosexual cisgender man commuting to a downtown job." (16:29)
This quote provides a concise summary of how historical biases in urban planning have created a city that is not designed to serve the needs of diverse populations.
"It's not just inconvenience. It's safety, life and death sometimes." (17:39)
This quote emphasizes the serious consequences of gendered and ableist design failures in public transit, tying everyday challenges to life-threatening risks.
"Friendship [is] this crucial world-making force in women's urban lives." (20:47)
This quote highlights the importance of social connections, particularly friendship, as a source of strength, safety, and empowerment that allows women to challenge the limitations of the city.
"Violating boundaries, [that advice] escalates fear, denies women's right to just be alone in public without being available for interaction." (23:17)
This quote addresses a specific and modern example of gendered urban friction, explaining how seemingly innocuous social norms undermine women's autonomy and right to solitude in public spaces.
"So the question of 'Safety for whom?' is paramount. Removing symbols of disorder to reassure wealthier residents can mean displacing marginalized groups in the name of safety." (28:18)
This quote critiques the politics of urban safety, exposing how initiatives meant to make some people feel secure can actively harm and criminalize marginalized communities
*Transcipt was generated automatically, its accuracy may vary.
Welcome to the Feminist Park podcast.
I'm Kwame.
And I'm Leilani.
It's great to be kicking off this journey with you all today.
Yeah.
We're diving into work that's really closely tied to the vision behind the Feminist Park project, which was founded by Hussain Stuck.
That project's goal is pretty ambitious, isn't it?
Imagining these truly equitable public spaces, starting with the idea for an intersectional feminist park right here in Berlin.
Exactly.
And this podcast, well, it's kind of an extension of that.
We're going to be digging into the academic research that, you know, supports and informs that kind of vision.
We'll be taking these dense, sometimes quite academic papers and really pulling out the core and insights.
And looking at them through specific lenses.
Things like environmental justice, intersectionality, anti colonial thought, queer theory.
All the stuff that helps us think critically about space.
So for our first deep dive, we're actually starting with some background research that Hussein came across early on.
And it highlighted something, well, frankly, quite jarring that the benefits we think we all get from urban green spaces, you know, parks and squares and thing like physical and mental well-being, they're often deeply gendered.
Meaning women and also gender diverse people.
They just don't get the same access or experience those benefits in the same way men do, right?
Less equitable access, fewer benefits.
It seems almost counterintuitive, doesn't it?
A park is just a park, open to everyone.
We've got a really fascinating source to get into today.
We do indeed.
It's excerpts from Leslie Kearns book Feminist City claiming space in a man Made world.
A powerful title and the book.
It really offers an insightful look at urban life, doesn't it?
Absolutely, but through a very specific lens.
It asks, you know, how are cities actually shaped by gender?
Right.
Who are they really designed for?
Exactly.
And what kinds of challenges do women specifically face when they're just trying to live in these spaces?
So our mission for this deep dive is to really pull out the key ideas, the surprising connections, maybe those aha moments from Kern's work.
Yeah, tracing that history, how cities became gendered spaces in the first place.
And exploring the real, everyday experiences, often unseen things, right?
Living in those spaces as a woman.
And then looking at how people are pushing back, you know, challenging things, dreaming up maybe a more equitable future for cities.
What makes Kearns approach so compelling, I think, is how she blends the academic side with personal experience.
Totally.
She draws on, you know, decades of urban geography, feminist theory, serious stuff.
But then she weaves in her own life.
Make it feel very tangible, doesn't it?
Relatable.
And urgent because it's grounded in reality.
Walking down the street, taking the bus.
Just trying to find a space to be.
Exactly.
It's not abstract theory.
It really brings the academic down to the pavement level.
So let's start by unpacking that historical context Kern lays out.
But she kind of suggests that maybe the city wasn't always seen as a natural place for women, almost framing women as a, well, a problem for the modern city as it was emerging.
That's a yeah, stark way to put it, isn't it?
Kern looks back especially to the Industrial Revolution.
Think rapid urbanization.
European cities particularly.
Places were just exploding with people.
Right.
Melting pots, Different classes, different backgrounds, all suddenly cheering the same public streets on a scale that hadn't really happened before.
And this, this intense mixing, this close contact, it directly challenged the social norms of the time, right?
The Victorian norms, yeah.
Oh absolutely.
Those norms were strict, designed to keep people separate, maintain perceived purity, respectability, especially for high status white women.
Their virtue was like key to the whole social order.
So the idea of the mixing freely in public was problematic.
Very current sites historian Elizabeth Wilson, who pointed out the anxiety that gentlemen and crucially, gentlewomen were forced to quote, rub shoulders with people from the lower orders.
Just being on the street was a risk.
Exactly.
That breakdown of rigid etiquette meant a respectable woman, simply by being visible in public, was constantly vulnerable to being mistaken for a quote public woman.
Which often meant a prostitute.
Precisely the ultimate insult is the source puts.
It so women's visibility itself, something we maybe take for granted, was seen as disruptive, threatening even.
And this concern, it didn't stay small, it kind of spiraled into a wider moral panic.
How so?
Well, the source shows how city life itself started being linked to this idea of a threat to civilization, and really disturbingly, the condition of women became the main measuring stick.
The benchmark for judging the city's morality?
Yeah, any perceived loss of control over women in the expansion of their freedom.
Kern even mentions something like women riding bicycles.
Bicycles.
Seriously.
Seriously.
Even that caused widespread alarm panic because it's signaled A departure from the expected role women belonging in the home confined.
Wow, it's hard to imagine a bicycle being that threatening.
So what was the proposed solution then, if women were this problem in the city?
Well, it depended on the woman, according to the thinking back then.
For those deemed already fallen irredeemable by those standards, figures like Charles Dickens apparently suggested immigration.
Just ship them off to the colonies, get them out of sight.
Basically, but for the respectable middle and upper class women, the solution was retreat.
Retreat where physically retreat either back to the countryside.
Seen as more moral, safer, or more commonly to the new suburbs that we're starting to develop.
The suburbs.
Yeah, and they were actively marketed that way, sanctuaries insulated from the dangers, the moral pollution, the diversity of the city streets.
But OK, the source digs deeper here.
This wasn't just about class anxiety within, say, London or Paris.
There's a really disturbing link drawn between this idea of protecting white women's safety in the city and colonialism violence.
Yes, this is where it gets incredibly complex and frankly, uncomfortable.
Kern really connects the dots here.
What's the connection?
She shows a direct link between that intense focus on protecting white settler women's safety and respectability in colonial settings and the justifications being used at the same time to contain, control, and even eliminate Indigenous populations from those same urbanizing areas.
So the narrative used to justify taking Indigenous land was tied up with the supposed need to protect white women.
Absolutely.
You had these sensationalized stories, often in popular novels, painting lurid pictures of, you know, white women being kidnapped, tortured, raped by so-called savages.
And this wasn't just fiction, it had a purpose.
Right.
It was propaganda, essentially, yeah.
Used to build support for colonization, it justified building fortified settler cities and push the idea that making things safe for white women was the same as achieving civilization and controlling the frontier.
But you mentioned a flip side.
Yes, and it's crucial and devastating.
At the very same time, Indigenous women were also being framed as threats to this colonial urban project.
How were they seen as threats?
Their bodies, their cultural roles, their power within their own communities, these were seen as potentially reproducing the very savagery the colonizers wanted to stamp out.
Plus, indigenous women often held significant cultural, political, economic power that directly challenged the European patriarchal norms being imposed.
So the colonizer saw them as obstacles to their vision of order.
Exactly so.
Building these cities involved A2 pronged attack on indigenous women, imposing European patriarchal systems to strip their power and simultaneously systematically dehumanizing them, stigmatizing them as primitive, promiscuous, dangerous.
And Curran argues this wasn't just a side effect, it was integral to the process.
Integral, an active part of urbanization itself, degradation and dispossession were tools used to build the settler city and.
The impact of that, it's still felt today.
Profoundly, the source draws a direct, chilling line from those historical attitudes, the dehumanization, the disposition, to the horrifically high rates of violence against Indigenous women and girls in settler colonial cities today.
It's a stark reminder these gendered, racialized power structures aren't just history.
They're embedded in the foundations, the physical and social fabric of the cities we live in now.
That's a really heavy, important connection, and it sets the stage for understanding the city as potentially A hostile environment, which brings us to the idea of rape culture and how Curran says it has a specific geography.
Right.
She takes rape culture, a term more people are familiar with now thanks to movements like Hashtag Me Too, and applies it directly to how we experience urban space.
So not just attitudes, but how it plays out physically.
Exactly.
She talks about rape myths, those pervasive damaging ideas that blame victims.
You know, what was she wearing?
Why was she walking there alone?
She must have been asking for it.
Those awful familiar tropes.
And her point is, these myths aren't just abstract beliefs.
They have a geography.
They literally get embedded into women's mental maps of the city.
How so they?
Constantly shape perceptions of safety.
Where is safe?
Where is dangerous?
What time of day?
Under what conditions?
It's a constant internal navigation.
Like those questions women get asked, or maybe ask themselves?
Precisely what were you doing in that neighborhood?
Why were you out so late?
Why were you alone?
These aren't really questions seeking information, are they?
No, they feel like accusations.
They anticipate blame.
They police women's behavior.
They limit where women feel they can safely go or be.
So these myths, spoken or unspoken, send a message parts of the city aren't for you.
Exactly.
And that fundamentally restricts freedom, freedom of movement, spontaneity, just the basic right to take up space without fear or judgment.
Which leads to this paradox she talked about, right?
This tension.
Yeah, a really fascinating, often agonizing paradox.
The city holds both freedom and fear for women.
OK, unpack that.
On one side, the narrative is cities are dangerous for women.
History says it.
Culture reinforces it.
The city is not for women, as the source puts it sometimes.
But on the other hand, women have historically flocked to cities.
Why?
Because cities offered opportunities, things unthinkable in smaller towns or rural areas.
Paid work for one.
Breaking free from restrictive social norms.
Yes, avoiding maybe unwanted traditional marriage or motherhood, pursuing careers, politics, public life, life.
Cities offered anonymity, too.
Space to be different maybe?
Absolutely.
To express unique identities, build new kinds of support networks, friendships, becoming central.
Central.
Participate in arts, culture, media.
The source even mentions the sort of psychic qualities of the city, Anonymity, energy, even danger.
Yeah, that unpredictability, that energy, Kerr notes Some women find a kind of pleasure, maybe even excitement, in navigating that unknowability, like an adventure.
She mentions a character in Charlotte Bronte's Villette finding real pleasure in braving the perils of the city.
But that's a specific kind of experience, isn't it?
Crucially, yes, the source is clear.
Finding urban disorder exciting is often a privilege.
It helps if you have resources, a safe place to retreat to, but the core tension is real.
Fear shapes women's experiences profoundly, but it hasn't stopped them seeking out what the city offers, even if it dictates how and where they move within it.
So we've got the history, the fear, this paradox of freedom.
How does this get literally built into the city, Into the buildings, the streets?
This is where Kern delves into the gendered symbolism of the built environment and the history of feminist geography itself is a field trying to understand this.
OK, She highlights foundational critiques like Dolores Hayden's analysis of skyscrapers back in in the 70s.
What did Hayden argue?
She looked beyond just function, she argued Skyscrapers act as well, Phallic monuments, symbols of male power, finance capitalism, literally towering over everything.
Using terms like base shaft tip.
Exactly, pointing out how these massive upward thrusting buildings are sometimes described in ways that evoke male ejaculation.
Geographer Liz Bondi built on this, suggesting it's not just the phallus, but the whole emphasis on verticality as a visual icon of power tied to the masculine character of capital.
So the skyline itself reinforces who's in charge.
In a way, yes.
This kind of critique is foundational to feminist geography, which, as Kernan explains, started partly just trying to get women included at all in a discipline that was overwhelmingly male.
And often complicit with colonial narratives, right?
The male explorer mapping new lands.
Precisely so early work was about adding women, recognizing them as subjects worthy of study in geography papers.
Like I'm not excluding half of the human in human geography.
Necessary first steps.
But just adding women wasn't enough.
It had limitations.
It didn't always challenge the deeper patriarchal structures of the city or the discipline, and sometimes it treated women as this single uniform group.
Which obviously isn't the case, right?
So the field evolved towards intersectionality, recognizing that gender interacts with race, class, sexuality, ability, all these things shape experiences differently.
And scholars started using their own experiences.
Yes, drawing on their own experiences of maybe marginalization, harassment, exclusion both in cities and in academia, people like Gil Valentine, Laura Polito, Audrey Kobayashi challenging the whiteness and Eurocentrism of the field.
And that critical work continues.
Definitely with Black feminist geographers like Katherine Mckittrick, Indigenous feminists like Sarah Hunt constantly pushing the field to confront its own history and biases to sharpen its analysis of the city.
OK, so we have the historical context, the symbolic level.
Let's get really grounded now, the actual embodied experience of being in the city.
Kern talks about the City of Moms.
Yes, this section really gets into the physical and social challenges of navigating urban life, particularly as a caregiver.
It feels very personal in the book, she says.
The geography closest in gets real strange when you're pregnant or have young kids.
Yeah, your own body suddenly becomes this focal point for you and others and how it interacts with the physical city that becomes paramount.
She shares an anecdote about commuting pregnant.
On the London Tube, the physical misery, nausea hitting suddenly, but also the social discomfort, people not offering a seat even when she was visibly pregnant, feeling awkward, exposed like an other in a space she used to navigate easily.
That really hits home and it challenges that image of the male city stroller, the flunner.
Right, that detached observer gliding through, taking it all in?
Kern asks.
Can a woman truly be a flunos like that?
Why not?
Because women are so often the objects of the male gaze, constantly aware of being watched, judged, maybe harassed.
True detachment is hard, maybe impossible.
And being a mother adds another layer.
She calls it the messy biology of parenting in public.
Leaking breasts, crying baby, the physical demands she describes, trying to be the mommy flanos, grabbing a coffee but always aware of the next diaper change, the need to find a private space.
Hide the realities of parenting.
Which connects to her critique of suburban development.
It wasn't just organic growth, she argues.
No, it was driven by specific agendas, especially post World War 2 housing for soldiers, boosting manufacturing and facilitating white flight.
Enabling white families to leave diverse inner cities.
Exactly.
Often confining non white communities to under resourced urban cores.
And these suburbs had huge gendered effects.
How so?
They reinforced traditional roles, women who'd worked during the war.
Rosie the Riveter were encouraged back into the home.
The very layout car dependent, separating homes from shops.
Assume the heterosexual nuclear family.
With mom at home doing childcare.
Right.
It built the gender division of Labor right into the spatial structure.
And Kern's key point is that these assumptions didn't just stay in the suburbs.
No, they became, as she puts it, fossilized into the concrete of city planning more broadly.
The default user, the assumed citizen for whom infrastructure is built, is often still that white, able bodied, heterosexual cisgender man commuting to a downtown job.
And public transit is a prime example A.
Glaring one overwhelmingly designed for that linear rush hour commute home to work, work to home.
But that's not how many women, especially caregivers, travel.
Not at all.
Women often do trip jamming, multiple stops, work, school, drop off, daycare, pickup errands, groceries, doctor's appointments for elders.
It's complex, not A to B.
And this inefficiency costs money.
A pink tax on transit.
Absolutely.
Research in New York found caregivers could pay significantly more per month just because their roots are more complex on a system not built for.
Them.
And then there are the physical barriers.
Strollers are a nightmare.
A nightmare, but it's amplified for disabled people, seniors, stairs, broken elevators, narrow turnstiles.
Kern shares her own struggles on the tube in Toronto's TTC.
That's scary moment when someone tried to help with the stroller on stairs and stumbled.
And she mentions the tragic story of Malaysia Goodson in New York.
Falling down subway stairs with her baby, It underscores that this isn't just inconvenience.
It's safety, life and death.
Sometimes it's like the system assumes caregivers or people with mobility issues don't need to get around.
Even though women worldwide have been activists on transit issues.
Yes, from women in Whitehorse creating their own minibus to women in Delhi rapping about transit dangers.
Yet Kern notes this persistent, willful ignorance from many transit authorities about these specific needs and safety concerns.
What about gentrification?
How does that fit in?
Kern looks at it through this gender lens, too.
Some earlier feminist thoughts saw potential benefits for professional women closer to work, easier balance.
But Kern pushes back on that.
She argues it's mostly an individualized market solution.
It might help some, usually middle class women, but it doesn't fundamentally change the gender division of Labor or the male centric infrastructure.
And new developments often lack family amenities.
Right, More luxurious 3 condos, fewer affordable childcare centers, accessible grocery stores or public play spaces.
Karen also really emphasizes the sheer physical toll of parenting in the city.
Oh yeah, the physical exertion, navigating bad sidewalks with strollers carrying heavy bags, the endless trips.
She talks about this deep bodily sense of exhaustion from her own experience.
And this isn't felt equally by everyone.
Not at all.
It's amplified, intensified.
For low income racialized women, gentrification pushes them further out, away from jobs, services, plus the exhausting energy spent dealing with bureaucracies for support, waiting, paperwork.
It leads to illness, chronic pain.
Brenda Parker's research in Milwaukee showed that powerfully.
For low income African American women, it's not just the physical travel, it's the stress, the systemic barriers, the legacy of racial geography.
Like mothers navigating post apartheid Johannesburg.
So initiatives like gender mainstreaming and planning, are they enough?
They're steps maybe like redesigning some pedestrian areas.
But Kern points out limitations.
They can reinforce normative ideas about women, maybe only focusing on married mothers.
And they might not meet the needs of all women, especially those facing multiple marginalizations.
And there's a critique about relying too much on the state.
Especially for Black, Indigenous, and people of color who've often been harmed or neglected by state structures, this leads to focusing on community LED strategies.
Like Zenzel Isoke's study in New York.
Exactly showing how community organizing, building alliances across groups can effectively challenge that structural intersectionality, how different oppressions combined in specific places.
It pushes us beyond just state planning.
Towards recognizing and supporting the care and mutual aid already happening in communities, often led by marginalized groups breaking down those artificial public, private, paid, unpaid work binaries.
So a feminist city needs to dismantle barriers, center care, build on support networks.
And transform both space and society.
It's a big vision.
From the demanding city of moms, Kern shifts focus to something more uplifting.
Maybe the City of Friends?
Yes, a really vital counterpoint.
Friendship as this crucial world making force in women's urban lives.
Helping women challenge limitations like in Elena Ferrante's novels.
Exactly.
That intense friendship allows the characters to push beyond their neighborhood confines.
Kern shares her own teenage story, too.
Sneaking downtown for a movie.
Yeah, getting lost, running out of money, feeling scared, but also feeling safe because they were together.
That shared exploration, fueled by friendship, made the intimidating city feel like it could be for us.
Which contrasts with how teen girls are often shown in movies.
Right Callus and Baines study found girls often confined cinematically to bedrooms.
We're just tagging along with boys in public.
But there are counter examples.
Films like Girls Town or Foxfire showing girls collectively claiming space, resisting violence, supporting each other, painting murals, confronting abusers, just being visible and loud together.
And these friendships were crucial for teenagers navigating restrictive environments.
Absolutely offering privacy space to experiment with identity, being weird downtown where nobody knew you, and giving courage to go new places.
What about that modern ritual?
Text me when you get home.
Curren sees that as this modern web of connection, a simple but powerful safety net, an act of care and solidarity, saying I'm with you, I care.
Even if the objective risk feels low sometimes.
She admits feeling annoyed by it initially, but recognizes it as this normalized part of being a woman and how friends were her city survival toolkit.
And fictional portrayals reinforce this.
Mary Tyler Moore.
Broad City.
Insecure Yeah, shows where female friendship is foundational for independence, survival, thriving, sometimes more central than romance.
Which leads to a really radical idea in the book.
The potential power of centering friendship over the nuclear family model, especially with changing demographics.
How is it radical?
It poses A fundamental threat to systems built on traditional family structures.
Kern quotes Indigenous scholar Kim Talbear about hope, lying and caring for one another as relations.
Applying that to the city.
If city supported friend based care, if women shifted more energy to those networks, Kern speculates, the system as men know it would come crashing down.
Provocative stuff.
It really is.
OK, briefly, technology headphones as a barrier.
Yeah, not just for music, but a social shield signaling unavailable against unwanted approaches.
Which makes that article How to Talk to a Woman wearing Headphones even worse.
Deeply frustrating pick up artist advice on how to ignore clear signals, assuming women secretly want the attention.
Feminist critiques rightly pointed out how that fuels rape culture.
Violates boundaries, escalates fear, denies women's right to just be alone in public without being available for interaction.
It misunderstands completely.
Which brings us right to the city of one being alone in public as a woman.
Kern argues this takes enormous amount of mental energy, constant self policing, risk assessment, managing potential harassment.
Unlike the male experience of solitude dining alone, man spreading seen as normal.
Right.
For women, especially mothers craving solitude, alone time in a cafe can be precious and escape a moment of being cared for.
Someone bringing coffee?
But still that underlying assumption, a woman alone is available.
Tied to old ideas of women as property.
Why telling a guy you have a boyfriend often works better than just saying no.
It invokes another man's claim.
And even sanctioned spaces for women alone are limited shops, cafes, reflecting old norms.
And even there, that awareness of vulnerability persists.
Public bathrooms become a big symbol here too.
Surprisingly potent, showing how basic needs, menstruation, clothing adjustments, caregiving are ignored by designers.
Often male, often able bodied menstrual taboos make it worse.
So basic necessities become sources of indignity.
And the UN even recognizes sanitation as a women's rights issue.
But current highlights, crucially, that trans people are on the front lines of toilet activism.
Because of the exclusion and violence they face.
Exactly.
The push for gender free or single user toilets is driven by their urgent safety needs.
But changing stalls isn't enough.
Deeper social change against transphobia is vital.
And the ability to be comfortably alone in public is tied to privilege.
Absolutely.
White privilege often means solitude isn't questioned.
People of color face suspicion, viewed as trespassers.
Those awful examples?
Starbucks.
Yale.
Airbnb.
And disabled people face unwanted help, disrespect for autonomy.
Grabbing wheelchairs, touching people without consent, undermining independence, Making being alone a struggle against intrusion.
So being alone is complex and deeply shaped by identity.
Far from simple.
OK, so with all these challenges, how do people push back protest resistance of the city?
Cities are historic sites for movements.
Critical mass access to power, media participating, fosters belonging, fuels change, connects to the right to the city.
Take Back the Night is a key example.
Originating mid 70s, directly challenging fear.
Reclaiming night time in public space for women's safety.
Asserting the right to be anywhere, anytime, without fear.
But Kern offers a critical look.
Acknowledges its importance but also limitations.
How protest spaces can reproduce privilege.
The phrase taking back as colonial echoes race, class, dynamic, shape, whose safety is centered, which areas are marched through.
And the historical exclusion of trans women.
Yes, from parts of the radical feminist movement behind TBPN.
She mentions the Pussy Hat controversy as a more recent example of how narrow definitions of woman can exclude despite trans women facing high rates of violence.
And marginalized communities often mistrust the police entirely.
Reports like the one from Vancouver's Downtown Eastside Women's Center show that clearly criminalization of poverty over policing of Indigenous women in a colonial system relying on police for safety is often not the answer for them.
These movements challenge the idea that violence is just natural in some places.
They disrupt those geographies of rape culture.
Kern reflects on her own TBT and participation, validating anger, claiming the city, but also realizing her privilege shaped her experience.
Which leads to gendered activist labor.
How caregiving burdens often falling on women impact their ability to participate in politics, especially risky or time consuming protest.
Her G20 protest anecdote illustrates this powerfully.
That choice continue the March into a tense situation or leave to get her daughter from daycare.
It shows how care duties systematically exclude women, often ignored by organizers.
But motherhood also strengthened her resolve.
Yes, and she consciously taught her daughter about protests, democracy, exercising her rights.
Revisiting safety and fear.
Traditional surveys miss things.
They often focus on public stranger danger, downplaying harassment, domestic violence, violence by acquaintances which are far more common for women, and.
Focusing on public violence reinforces patriarchy.
By locating the problem out there, not in the home, often framed as the safe place.
And institutions fail.
Women police manipulating data.
Shocking examples labeling assaults unfounded to make cities look safer for gentrification.
Philadelphia or just due to disbelief and reap myths within policing itself.
Canada reporting often doesn't lead to justice.
Institutions seem invested in minimizing the problem.
And the paradox making cities seem safe for some.
Often means making them less safe for others.
Targeting homeless people, sex workers, youth of color.
Removing symbols of disorder to reassure wealthier residents.
Displacing marginalized groups in the name of safety.
Safety.
For whom, indeed?
This brings us to carceral feminism.
Relying heavily on police, courts, prisons as the solution to violence against women.
Why is that problematic?
Well, sometimes well-intentioned, it participates in a racist, classist system that harms marginalized communities.
It lets police use women's safety to justify harmful practices like racial profiling, often without actually improving safety or tackling root causes.
Beth Ritchie's work is key here.
But there are other initiatives, women LED ones.
Yes, innovative things safe to pin app in Delhi for mapping safety apps Co developed with girls, Policies banning sexist ads on transit.
Women finding community based or policy solutions.
So after all this, towards the feminist city, where do we begin?
Kern pulls it together.
The city is a minefield, yes, but also a place of connection, a true love.
Transforming it means tackling interlocking systems.
Patriarchy, capitalism, colonialism, racism, Ableism.
Not just adding ramps or lights.
Right.
There's a disconnect between women's lived experiences and what planners often prioritize.
Built fixes aren't enough without tackling social norms, power, fear.
Social change is key.
So starting points.
Change Who is making decisions?
More women, people of color, indigenous people, LGBTQ plus folks, disabled people in planning, politics, architecture, bring in diverse lived experience.
Use intersectional analysis always.
As standard practice, examine every policy, every design for its differential impacts.
Amplify voices from the global S incorporate indigenous interest, land transfers, urban reserve.
And avoid carceral models for safety.
Absolutely ensure initiatives don't harm marginalized groups.
True safety can't be built on the backs of the vulnerable.
Kern points to movements already doing this work.
Even if not explicitly feminist, City projects hashtag Fight 415 Focus E15 mums in London tackling wages, housing, harassment, racism, sexism as interconnected struggles.
The vision is a.
City that dismantles barriers for all bodies.
That's care centered that builds on women's support networks and requires transforming both space and society.
Wow, that was a really comprehensive journey through Kern's ideas from history and colonialism.
Through the daily grind of navigating the city as a woman, a mother, a friend.
Confronting barriers fear institutional failures.
But also seeing the power of friendship, resistance, collective action.
And landing on this vision for a fundamentally different kind of city.
It really connects the dots, doesn't it?
How the small everyday stuff links to these huge historical forces and systems of power.
But it doesn't leave you feeling hopeless somehow.
There's resilience there.
That sense of possibility, women's networks, grassroots creativity, that demand for something better.
The city isn't fixed.
It's contested constantly being remade.
So what does this mean for you listening right now in your own city or town?
Maybe the thought to leave you with is this Try looking around you through this feminist lens, Kern provides.
Who does the street seem built for?
Whose body fits comfortably on this park bench or can easily navigate this transit stop?
Whose needs are being met?
Whose are ignored?
Invisible.
And maybe also look for those quiet acts of resistance or care.
Neighbors sharing childcare, community gardens, people looking out for each other.
They might seem small, but they challenge that dominant narrative.
They build something different relationship by relationship.
It's a reminder, isn't it?
Change isn't just top down plans, it's also in how we see our cities, how we claim space, and how we care for one another right where we are.
This knowledge is a tool really, a tool for seeing your city differently and potentially for helping to change it.
It's been a really insightful deep dive.
I think this document provides such a vital framework, especially for projects like the Feminist Park Project that are trying to build something fundamentally different.
It shows just how interlinked urban design and social justice are.
It really does, but it also shows the scale of of the challenge right.
It requires sustained effort, real commitment and a genuine willingness to shift power dynamics in how cities get made and managed.
Definitely.
It makes you think about how we ensure those voices, the ones that have been excluded, are actually heard and centered.
There's another quote from Sarah Ahmed in the Handbook that feels relevant here.
Come on, she says.
If you have to shout to be heard, you are heard as shouting.
That's powerful.
It makes you ponder, doesn't it?
How can the design of public space itself work differently?
How can it amplify the voices of those who've been historically silenced, ensuring their needs are met without them having to shout just to be noticed?
How can design itself listen?
That's a really provocative thought to end on a.
Lot to think about.
Indeed, thanks for joining us for this deep dive.