Bike Lanes Are White Lanes: Bicycle Advocacy and Urban Planning

by Melody L. Hoffmann

The number of bicyclists is increasing in the United States, especially among the working class and people of color. In contrast to the demographics of bicyclists in the United States, advocacy for bicycling has focused mainly on the interests of white upwardly mobile bicyclists, leading to neighborhood conflicts and accusations of racist planning.

In Bike Lanes Are White Lanes  scholar Melody L. Hoffmann argues that the bicycle has varied cultural meaning as a “rolling signifier.” That is, the bicycle’s meaning changes in different spaces, with different people, and in different cultures. The rolling signification of the bicycle contributes to building community, influences gentrifying urban planning, and upholds systemic race and class barriers.

In this study of three prominent U.S. cities—Milwaukee, Portland, and Minneapolis—Hoffmann examines how the burgeoning popularity of urban bicycling is trailed by systemic issues of racism, classism, and displacement. From a pro-cycling perspective, Bike Lanes Are White Lanes highlights many problematic aspects of urban bicycling culture and its advocacy as well as positive examples of people trying earnestly to bring their community together through bicycling.
  
 

Genres: Urban Planning, Nonfiction, Urbanism, Cycling, Bicycles, Politics

210 pages, Paperback

Published December 1, 2020

Reviews

[Adina]

Bike Lanes are White Lanes is effective as a scathing critique of early 2000s Florida-ism - bike infrastructure designed as magnet for "creative class" while cheerfully pursuing gentrification. The white grad-student author interviewed a city mayor who said that the bike infrastructure the city was developing was designed to attract "people like her"

The author does important work in identifying big blind spots in white, professional bicycling advocacy and city infrastructure planning.

However, the book has blind spots of its own. A key chapter is about a racialized fight over a bike lane in a gentrifying neighborhood in Portland. Black community members refused to talk with the author whom they perceived as a gentrifier. It's unfortunate that this was an academic thesis with a deadline, so there wasn't time to return to the topic with primary sources and coauthor

Also, the book's political-economic critique is substantially right but also facile. This quote, for example: "Although bicycling for transportation has historically been perceived as a radical act, bicycling politics are becoming realigned with neoliberal and economic interests" The political view embedded in that sentence doesn't attend to the auto-dominated history that left cycling as marginal and politicized; and the racist suburbanization that left cities disinvested with empty lots, parking craters, and population drain.

It's true that more people can ride on the street because the way was paved by radicals starting critical mass; but why were those tactics needed at the time; and why is it bad for cycling to become ordinary? It's true that environmentalism can and has been used to create amenities for the wealthy while excluding the less affluent; it's simultaneously true that driving for short trips is harmful for human health, natural environment, and public space.

I'm glad I read the book, and in sum glad it was written, but it's a thin slice of a complex story.

[Kate McCarthy · Rating 2 out of 5]

The premise of this very academic book is important and unique: examining racial inequity in bicycle advocacy. But, I don't think it does a good job doing that as the basis of its arguments are weak and the examples are problematic. For example, the author spends part of a chapter arguing that a digital archive of an open house is a strong indication of racism. There are actually so many clear and concrete examples of racism in bicycle advocacy that more rigorous research would easily uncover and would make a stronger case. Instead this book does a flimsy job of diving into an important subject. I'm glad I read it because people are talking about it, but overall I thought it could have and should have been much better.

[Adam · Rating 3 out of 5]

I don't necessarily disagree with her premise, but the author doesn't really build much support for it.

[Carlosfelipe Pardo · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book presents an incredibly valuable viewpoint of cycling and how it’s promoted, though much more specifically in the US. It’s critical about cycling as something that is acritically promoted despite problems of segregation and equity - again, in the US. It’s odd to find this type of discussion which is extremely valuable and eye-opening.

[audrey · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is such an interesting and necessary book for people who work in bicycling advocacy. It's both interesting and necessary in the ways that it talks about the role of racism in failures of both ongoing infrastructure and advocacy, and it's interesting and necessary in the one really glaring way it fails when talking about these topics.

Let's go:

The book is a series of case studies of race!fail in bicycling advocacy in the United States, introduced by a well thought-out, well supported and documented introduction to the subject. Verily, the introduction's worth the price of admission alone, for several reasons.

One, Hoffmann identifying the bicycle as a "rolling signifier" -- a thing whose relationship to power changes as it rolls through different geographical spaces and communities -- is smart. It's smart shorthand. And it's vivid enough to be memorable, and (I think) understandable when you enter conversations about race and bicycling in America, and need to get everyone on the same street, so to speak.

Two, a lot of the foundational groundwork Hoffman lays in this introduction draws on and recognizes the work of non-white scholars in this space. This is long overdue! I shouldn't have to give out cookies for this! But it's still true. I especially liked the way Hoffman brought in concepts from Black feminist geography, because she does it well, and this is a space where we desperately need to examining bias with intersectional and interdisciplinary tools.

And three, in the introduction, Hoffman writes what I think is the best unpacking of the term "invisible cyclist". Consider it with me now: when we say "invisible cyclist", who is doing the viewing? Who is deciding what brings a cyclist or class of cyclists into view?

Hoffman also very cleverly invokes other scholars who've used the term, and then gently debunks that use an guides the reader towards, again, a more intersectional examination of that and other terms in bicycling advocacy.

Y'all I have so many post-it flags on this introduction. So many.

But.

There are two places in particular that I want to stop and think more critically about.

The first is that in the introduction, my beloved introduction, Hoffman states,

"The automobile, driver, and freeway are the easiest targets for the critic to analyze... The bicycle, its rider, and its related amenities are assumedly off-limits for critique because of the way that bicycling is framed in the media, by advocates, and by some city governments as a positive, progressive, and good thing for all people. Or all cultural geographer Justin Spinney put it, 'Biking is understood as apple pie; no one can hate apple pie.'"

This... has not been my experience.

Just this past week we had a hugely inflammatory column posted in our local newspaper, where a pundit excoriated cyclists as a class, citing what a danger we pose to drivers. (Buh?)

This led to a whole thread of Facebook comments of anger, threats to run cyclists over, and comparing us to roadkill. (Stay classy, Vermont).

Just yesterday, I responded to someone's tweet about their encounter by bike with a dangerous driver (I asked if they were worried the car's windows were tinted to unsafe levels) and woke up this morning to a whole boatload of people I had never met before calling me names, expressing anger at cyclists, and making vile sex comments (because hello, internet).

It has in no way, ever, been my experience that the dominant or prevailing tone of conversation in the media and in civics, venerates cyclists. Advocates yes: that's what we do, we advocate for bicycling. But everyone else seems to really want to point out how much of a nuisance we are to giant cars, trucks, and SUVs with onboard entertainment systems and places to mount your phone, lest you miss one tiny "lol" on social media.

But I digress.

It just struck me as very out-of-step with almost everything I've read ever.

The other problem I had with the book, was with one of the case studies Hoffman undertakes. And to be clear, this is less of a problem than a deep wondering.

One of the situations Hoffman examines is the case of a historically Black neighborhood in North Portland where the residents pushed back on having a bike lane added because it was part of an ongoing long-time pattern of gentrification. It's an important case to study, but: Hoffman, who is white, reported the whole thing from a distance, and wasn't able to get any of the Black residents of the neighborhood to speak with her, either as background or to be included in the piece.

And that, to me, speaks to an issue with consent.

America has a very specific, very violent anti-Black racism problem. Black people in this country are deeply marginalized, and suffer from multiple types of oppression. So it makes me wonder whether Hoffman was the right person to write about this case study. She specifically notes:

"When I contacted a woman who was known as a 'gatekeeper' to the black community in Portland, she rad me as a white bicyclist and declined to talk to me... So while some readers of this book may understand the missing black voices as poor research on my behalf, I hope they also understand the absence as representative of how deep the racialized tensions are in the cities I study. The tensions are so deep that even when a white person outwardly 'on their side' contacts them for an interview, they choose not to share their thoughts."

There is some kind of issue going on here with consent and marginalization that I'm having an issue putting into words properly. I'm going to reach out to a sociology researcher I know and see if they have a better way to express this. But there is definitely something jarring about this particular case study's methodology, especially because in the other cases, Hoffman is an active participant in the movements, an insider.

She writes of Portland:

"I relied on an informant in Portland to keep me updated...Over the course of a year, I spent roughly a month in Portland. I stayed in the neighborhood I was studying and spent as much time as possible on the street where the bicycle lane dispute centered. This allowed me some ability to get a 'feel' for the neighborhood... Because I did not live in Portland, I relied on a bike news blog, academic articles about Portland, and mainstream news stories to keep me updated."

But earlier in this introduction you told us that the mainstream media is biased in favor of bicyclists and bicycling, so how could relying on those stories do anything but distance you from the voices of the people in the neighborhood who were being marginalized? The people who asked you to keep away?

I'm still sitting with this. It's difficult because the case needs to be studied; we need to talk about ongoing anti-Black violence at all levels in this country. But we also need to examine the ways in which we do that studying and talking.

The other two case studies, one of a community bike event in Milwaukee, and bike-related civics in Minnesota, are also interesting and compelling, even possibly *because* Hoffman writes about them with an insider's perspective.

Again: a really, really interesting and necessary book that provides a lot of food for thought for people working in bicycle advocacy in this country.

[Kay · Rating 4 out of 5]

An important look at environmental gentrification. Bikes are rolling signifiers—markers of health, conscientious leisure, and rebellion for some and markers of poverty, the transportation mode of last resort for others. Hoffmann's case studies are illuminating.

[Patrick Braga · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book offers an interesting exposition of how cultural differences in how people perceive bicycling and bicycle infrastructure ultimately affects the process through which projects are approved and, later, given meaning. There are a lot of areas where I think the book could improve, though. While the book was an enlightening series of vignettes and theoretical frameworks through which to read the politics of bicycling, as a reader I felt like I was doing too much 'work' clarifying the presented material into central ideas and takeaway points that I could deploy elsewhere in urban planning work. But to start, here are some of the strongest takeaways:

- Some low-income and minority groups may feel a lack of sense of ownership to a proposed bike lane because their neighborhood has had a history of disinvestment, so sudden interest in a public works project of this sort might generate an impression that existing residents are not the target users of the project.

- In some places and groups of people, bicycling is associated with struggling for low-wage work and having to act subserviently when moving in auto-dominated streetscapes. When groups of people privilege driving as a status symbol, proposing bicycle infrastructure can seem like undermining aspirations, which is why it's crucial for new bicycle infrastructure to accompany culture-building programs, such as access to bicycle repair. Planners and bicycling advocates should also be mindful of how different groups of people construct different expectations about behavior on bicycles, such as wrong-way riding or riding on the sidewalk, so that cultural change doesn't feel punitive, but rather uplifting and empowering.

I found the first and last chapters the strongest. The literature review was quite good and I appreciated the proposition that "community" ultimately is not simply a space- or social-network-based notion, but that it is the combination of these and channels and practices of communication. The final chapter was a powerful summary of the core ideas that the author espouses and which her research supported.

However, there are some areas in which the book could improve:

- The Portland chapter assumes that the reader agrees with the author's under-elaborated definition of gentrification, which when deployed in the writing wavers between cultural change and change in racial proportions in a neighborhood. The chapter also deploys a metaphor of haunting and ghostliness that, while effective in some regards, likewise felt underdeveloped.

- In the Minneapolis chapter, the pro-car bias of public comment wasn't sufficiently critiqued, and was given a bit too much credence, in my opinion. (Granted, I'm biased toward supporting changing the meaning of bicycling in the hopes of seeing it become a social integrator rather than a source of controversy, but the comments along the lines of 'if I can't park, I'm being told I can't move up in society' could have been dissected a bit more.)

- The middle chapters felt too much like streams of consciousness and lacked structural clarity in terms of what central idea they were arguing. Structure, argumentation, and theoretical exposition didn't feel fully developed or reinforcing. Reading these chapters felt like moving suddenly from the scene of a bike event to a public meeting to the author's reflections, without enough connective tissue, as it were, to clarify what exactly the author's position on each portion was. While I appreciated the effort to 'paint a picture' of the neighborhood, I was left at the end of each section with wanting to ask the author what the functional reason for each section was, what argument that section advanced, and how that contributed to the author's overarching interpretation of the state of bicycle advocacy in each chapter's city.

- Though brief, I found the description of Vision Zero quite inaccurate. The intention of the policy idea at its core is not to deploy a purely 'no jaywalking'-style of enforcement. Rather, it's to rethink streetscape design comprehensively through the interlinkage of behavior and built infrastructure. The ultimate goal, which I think the author missed, is to decrease the likelihood of death on streets by privileging practices of urban motion that leave people's bodies physically vulnerable to harm.

- Finally, even at a time when "people bicycling" and "people who bike" were making headways in the lexicon of bicycle advocacy, the author's reliance on using "cyclists" as a label felt too generalizing, especially given her aim otherwise to dissect the political importance of cultural differences surrounding perceptions and practices of riding bicycles.

Nonetheless, I'm grateful that the author made a meaningful contribution to research on bicycle advocacy by highlighting the importance of understanding the processes and social interactions through which meaning is constructed and ascribed onto actions, machines, and interventions in the built environment.

[Candice Crutchfield · Rating 3 out of 5]

The number of cyclists has dramatically increased in recent years, especially among people of color. Despite this increase, many of the advocacy, organizations, and cycle events still cater to the white, rich, Lycra wearing cycle bunch. In “Bike Lanes are White Lanes,” author Melody Hoffmann explores this phenomena, using three case studies to explore the intricacies of infrastructure, planning, and the culture of cycling within the U.S.

About 15 pages into this book I said to myself, “this seems to be written like a research paper or a dissertation.” I quickly googled the author and realized they do in fact have a PhD! Overall, Hoffmann delivers a relatively strong “academic” and “theory-based” approach to thinking about bike lanes and the construction of bicycle culture within Portland, Milwaukee, and Minneapolis. Sometimes establishing a bike lane feels like a simple ask, but there’s much more behind it. Hoffmann encourages readers to think beyond simple paint, concrete slabs, and gentrification. Instead, she invites us to examine bigger issues of culture and diverse communities.

Admittedly, I still want a bit more, but this is a great introductory piece into cycle infrastructure and a nice history lesson of 3 urban areas.

[Anthony · Rating 2 out of 5]

The acknowledgments state that this is a “product of” her dissertation, but with 160 pages of text and maybe 40 pages of actual content, I have trouble believing this is significantly modified from the original dissertation. She spends multiple pages, for example, explaining her pretentious term “rolling signification”, when a single sentence would have been sufficient: riding a bike can have different connotations depending on your race and socioeconomic status.

She relies almost exclusively on her own impressions of a place, even when the experts she interviews directly contradict her views – and she doesn’t even seem to realize it. At one point, she describes a neighborhood as going through “hyper-gentrification” because it seems to have skipped the stage of large student and artist populations that she associates with typical gentrification. She, a nonresident who had never visited the neighborhood before, simply didn’t know where the students lived and therefore assumed they didn’t exist. She then offers a long quotation from a resident supposedly in support of her belief, which begins “They’re still there.”

[Daphne · Rating 4 out of 5]

The book is a few years old and many municipalities are adding bike lanes because it's the thing to do, not necessarily because they are needed or wanted by the communities they are in. Hoffman discusses other issues that are involved and that are overlooked when communities have infrastructure changes that are thrust upon them, instead of meeting the needs of the communities they are in. Also, the author mentions that many cyclists who use bikes are of the creative class and are white males, though many working class people ride bikes as well because they have to, not because they choose to. Hoffman's points are valid that until people truly confront the reasons for and locations of bike lanes and who uses them, they will continue to be white lanes.

[Spenser Garcia · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book reads like a dissertation, and not a particularly well written one at that.

I enjoyed the content and the idea behind the focus on Milwaukee, Minneapolis, and Portland, but I wish Huffmann would have dived deeper and gotten more community comments and ideas. The book felt like it took something and then pounded that point over the course of 20-40 pages.

Again, I appreciate the thought behind the book, but the writing style wasn’t for me. I will say it gets better after chapter one, but wow was chapter one dense and drawn out.

[Kristi · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book is based on the author's PhD dissertation, so it can be a little dry in places. That being said, it does raise a lot of interesting points about bicycle infrastructure and who typically stands to benefit from its construction.

The bottom line is that what works for one community may not work in another community. Bicycle advocates are advised to do more outreach and find out what types of bicycle infrastructure improvements are needed/wanted based in those communities.

[Chris Selin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Having lived in Milwaukee (and having participated in the RW24), Minneapolis and Portland I can easily understand the author's arguments throughout the book. Overall it was interesting; although, it reads like a college thesis. Yet another topic requiring education, communication, empathy and healthy discussions/debates in order to find the most positive and inclusive solutions.

[Paul Black · Rating 1 out of 5]

Had to sift through a lot of biased drivel to extract the small nuggets of useful information. At least it is short.

[Santiago Espinosa · Rating 4 out of 5]

Eye opening but dry.

[Ashley Clubb · Rating 3 out of 5]

Good at first, then slow and repetitive.