How do we connect as a people if we can’t get to one another?
James M. Pryor
The day I decide to take my walk is sunny. It was cool in the morning, but by 11am the sun has broken through and started to singe the side of my face. I look to my left – into the sun – and try to peer through to see if there’s any cars coming. To my right the cars have stopped for the light but there’s no crosswalk to guide me, no pedestrian symbol to give me the go ahead. There’s no break in this four-way intersection to give me a chance to hop from one strip mall to the another. The traffic from the left stops and I take my first step into the street as a car tries to turn right on red, and we are faced with each other. Thankfully, they don’t honk. They let me go, but after I’ve cleared out of the way they speed off to show their displeasure.
There’s no sidewalk along Plank Road, also known as Route 3, pone of the busiest streets that passes through Fredericksburg, Va. There are forced, rough paths through dying grass that pedestrians have created themselves by cutting through. Historic Fredericksburg is beautiful for walking pedestrians, and a work in progress for those using accessibility aids such as wheelchairs or scooters, but once outside that central area, pedestrians face being ignore for the sake of cars and trucks, not allowed to live in the same space. I believe Fredericksburg is one of the most dangerous places to be a pedestrian.
Johnathan stalls, a 39-year-old Denverite addresses this problem within his own city by going out into the thick of it, recording dangerous walks he takes along arterial roads – a major road made for heavy vehicle traffic – while filming the conditions to post on his TikTok account, where has 75.1K followers and over 1M likes across the board. It’s also created change in Denver. Stalls encourages his followers to do the same to bring attention to their local officials about the state that the U.S is in with regards to walkability, and so did I.
It’s not just a question of “how do we fix it?” but also “how did we get here?” Technological advancements in the automobile industry are what brought us to this point. General Motors paved the way, literally. For us as a society to rely heavily on cars. Public transport budget’s get cut, and only the wealthy get to experience the so-called solution of self-driving cars. However, we have also advanced to the point of being able to take photos and video at almost every second of the day. We must come together virtual and physically to make more of Fredericksburg walkable, not just for those who can afford to stay downtown, but those further out, pushed to the edges.
As time has gone on, we all have become more spread out, more isolated and made to be wary of our own community members. Shopping centers with no place to rest or for children to play send the message of “drive here, buy what you need, and leave.” This has been so programmed into towns that are reliant on cars to get around that any sign of someone “loitering” raises questions. What kind of country can be called free when you must pay just to exist in the same space as a business? Where did our dignity as humans go and when did we become only seen as consumers?
The City of Fredericksburg released a report in 2018 admitting that Fredericksburg is a car-oriented city, but it did not end with that statement. It seems bleak, the number of cars pedestrians face and how our architecture seems structure based around vehicles, but brighter days are coming.
The city spent 475 days to tear down and rebuild the route 3 bridge that connects historic Fredericksburg to Stafford County, reaching across the Rappahannock river. The Virginia Department of Transportation, commonly referred to as VDOT, took over the construction. The original bridge was built in 1941, and after almost 80 years, it got a few deserved updates. The $23.4 million project allowed for a smooth, almost so bright white it was blinding, concrete surface to be built upon new steel bridge girders. More on the engineering side, the previous weight limit was 15 tons, but now the bridge can hold anything of legal vehicle load weight, including heavy-weight emergency response vehicles. No corners were cut on the sturdiness of the project, and like a breath of fresh air, the added cyclist/pedestrian walkway was also treated with care. This is the beginning of respect being return to the people. Rather than being seen as obstacles, or simply objects, to a busy road, we can exist together on the same level of dignity.
In the middle of the pedestrian walkway on the bridge there is a scenic overlook. Tourists and locals alike can stop and look out over the Rappahannock and take in the scenery that once could only be seen by people passing in their cars. And more often than not, when you’re going anywhere between 35-50mph across a slim bridge, your eyes are not appreciating the scenery like someone who was walking could.
We all start somewhere, and in Fredericksburg we need to push for documentation. Gathering proof to show the reality of our situation, that this town has been expanded around cars. I’ve made it across Plank Road into the shopping center across from my apartment complex when I hear a honk behind me. Someone trying to turn into the center squeals their tires as they race past me, not even giving me a moment to react to the loud noise. I feel embarrassed and singled out solely for being on two feet instead of in a car. I’m in almost empty parking lot, trying to keep an eye out for oncoming cars that could come from any direction with the lack of safety barricades in place. My destination is Cook Out, one of few fast food restaurants that offers an outdoor, walk-up to order area. While a handful of cars are in the drive thru, I’m able to approach the walk-up window.
“I never thought about it,” said Natalie Banks, the only other person standing at the window with me. “My boyfriend drops me off at work and I walk here for lunch… it’s hard to get across without pissing someone off.”
Banks orders a chicken tender tray with hushpuppies and a strawberry milkshake to sustain her for the rest of her shift at the hardware store back across the street. I order a Huge Tea™, a Cook Out specialty that’ll last me awhile while I walk from location to location. Many of the people I attempt to approach refuse to meet my eyes and keep walking, or politely decline my request to ask them a few questions. Everyone is scurrying in and out of these crumbling concrete buildings, afraid of each other. It shows how fractured our community has become, how terrified we become when we assume humans are naturally evil.
The lack of walkability is what causes this distance from the others within our communities. I feel it was only encouraged by the Stranger Danger and War on Drugs Reagan era. I rarely speak to my neighbors, being told since a child to never speak with strangers, never trust them, to always demonize someone who seems to be “acting out of place.” But have you ever been the person acting out of place? Those experiencing panic attacks or uncomfortable side effects from drugs are stared down in our flat concrete world, nowhere for them to seek shelter. They’re called addicts and freaks and cast aside within our communities, but never do we stop and think how easily a “normal” life could be turned upside down. Some are not legally allowed to drive, some cannot physically drive, and some simply do not want to. Why do we care more about automobiles than these people in our communities?