As I write this, I have no idea what will happen to a bike lane that is literally playing a role in saving my life.
Streetsblog remains on top of Mayor Adams’s on-again/off-again/Frank Seddioed-again effort to remove parts of the Bedford Avenue protected bike lane. Beyond the urgent breaking news, this two-decade-long saga also reveals the worst opportunistic impulses of our mayor and lays bare that our political system is simply not built to understand what “the community” means.
I have a personal stake in that. To the uninitiated, this war pits the Satmar Haredi “community” against cyclists — and, indeed, these two groups have been warring over Bedford Avenue for years. The Bedford “bike lane,” if you could call it that, had been painted, then removed, then painted again, in a constant back and forth over Hasidic sensibilities.
When I moved from Bushwick to Bedford Avenue in 2013, the lane consisted solely of painted lines on the busy roadway. But it really did provide a sense of security in a city that throws about 50 deadly obstacles in your way for every 10-mile trip. Then again, residents of the “community” would slyly block it with trash cans, forcing cyclists into traffic (I have been “doored” more times than I can count). There was no NYPD enforcement preventing people from double-parking in the middle of a bike lane.
The lack of safety led the Department of Transportation to propose a solution that could work for everyone: a protected bike lane on Bedford between Dean Street and Flushing Avenue. After a year of outreach, it was installed in October.
But some members of the Satmar Haredi community felt it was unsafe; several children had been hit by cyclists who couldn’t see them because of double-parked cars or buses that dropped off students in mid-block loading zones that were themselves blocked by cars.
Yet instead of removing more parking to make the bike lane more visible to children — and children more visible to cyclists — the Adams administration announced that, at the behest of “the community,” it would remove protections for cyclists between Willoughby and Flushing avenues.
This notion of “community” is at the heart of the problem. It is unfortunate that the expansion of safe transportation alternatives devolves into an urban complex of tribalist community boards serving opportunistic politicians, all claiming they are “listening” to the “community” when they prove time and time again that they only have the capacity to listen selectively.
Meanwhile, the world continues to lap us. I’ve ridden Bogota’s Ciclovia, while smiling widely to cover my seething envy for something the city started in the 1970s and passionately maintains to this day. We have all watched Paris, once known internationally for its dangerous streets, become a model of livability. Some members of “the community” grumbled when Mayor Anne Hidalgo started making it more difficult to drive, but now residents of all communities are eagerly voting for more pedestrianization.
Savvy politicians learn that cyclists are a community, too. We have tight-knit groups; we have our own watering holes (the best of which is still right off Bedford Avenue and S. Sixth Street). Some of us are masters of blending the lines of art, bike mechanics, and a special, deranged level of creativity. We also have entire events and days to celebrate cycling together, whether sponsored by banks and sanctioned by the city (these are OK) or totally off-the-grid affairs characterized by resilience, camaraderie, and anarchy (these are incredible).
The point is that any time the “community” surrounding a bike lane takes the issue to their representatives, we assemble our community as well to try and save it.
The sad thing is that the “communities” of cyclists and non-cycling residents do not need to remain at each other’s throats. All that does is enable craven, lazy politicians to fear-monger instead of taking on actual, hard-to-solve issues like affordability, lack of access to childcare, and more.
I long for the day when our city's leaders don't just ride a bike once to make themselves look hip for a photo-op and then never get in the saddle again. I long for the day when I can attend a community board meeting with a bike helmet in my hand and be seen as an ally for a better New York and not an enemy. I long for the day when arguments for new separated lanes take weeks and don't get relitigated over and over for my entire life as a New Yorker.
That’s the thing about cycling in New York: it forces you to learn intimately about your surroundings in a way you never could in a car. Even the subway, as exceptional as it is, leaves us with the image of a gray area between all the stations we utilize daily. Cycling is why I have a fuller picture of the city than all the native New Yorkers I work with, am friends with, and the very special one I am married to and live with. It is why I am confident that I know Staten Island better than anyone running for mayor. The cycling community is inspirational, and so is how it introduces you to other communities.
Even if northern Bedford-Stuyvesant is opposed to my being there on a bike, I still love to ride through it. One of my fondest New York moments was riding south on Lee Avenue one summer Friday when a Hasidic man stopped me and asked if I was a “Shabbos goy.” I confirmed I could be, so he led me to his apartment, where I turned off his A/C. Then he introduced me to his wife and four daughters, and they all thanked me profusely with such earnest gratitude for the easiest task I’ve ever completed in my life.
At least those six members of the “community" were happy I was on a bike.a
