Paved with Privilege: Slow Streets and the Suburbanization of San Francisco

By Finbar LaBelle

finbarlabelle@bennington.edu

The first Slow Street Corridor erected in San Francisco was the Sanchez Slow Street, from 23rd Street to 30th Street in Noe Valley. The project, another pandemic convenience, was by the Municipal Transportation Agency until December 2022. Life had slowed down, so why shouldn’t the streets? 

San Francisco suddenly became a slow suburb, at least in its more residential areas. However, the privilege seemed reserved only for the wealthy.

Slow Streets introduce undeniable benefits to the community, the environment and family accessibility. They support the city’s efforts to create a citywide Active Transportation Network while encouraging residents to use more low-carbon transportation methods in their daily commutes. The SFMTA claims Slow Streets as “safe, comfortable, low-vehicle-traffic routes that prioritize active transportation and community-building, designed to provide safe, comfortable alternatives to driving.” 

Substantial cases can be made that Slow Streets combat traffic-related injuries and even deaths. According to an article from KQED published in February of this year, Slow Streets have reduced “injury collisions” by 61% on participating slow streets.

  However, while acknowledging these positives, one should always be encouraged to question the City’s motives regarding regulations and policies, especially those tailored to specific demographics. This examination becomes crucial in a city as socioeconomically stratified as San Francisco. More often than not, serving one community disserves another. 

I encourage a healthy amount of critical inquiry as you begin to plot out where Slow Streets are and where they are not. In spring 2020, there were 14 slow streets. Currently, there are 18 throughout the city. Neighborhoods with access to slow streets include affluent areas such as the Presidio, Noe Valley and Duboce Triangle. 

There comes a time when we must come to terms with what can be bought in this city. The city can put a price tag on almost anything. Why must the rich reserve entire streets for recreation?

Projects like Slow Lake – funded by those seeking to privatize their own neighborhoods – are often presented as universally beneficial, yet mask a clear undercurrent of classism. 

The integration of these slow streets throughout the city has created an illusion of suburban living in San Francisco. Not everyone has the privilege of seeing the city in this way; some struggling residents are forced to see this seven-by-seven-mile grid for what it is — a diverse and bustling city.

But hey, if you and your neighbors have the sway, go ahead. Take the city. Walk with your $15 coffee and blast those noise-canceling Apple Headphones. There is no need to worry that your rare breed of Australian-Tibetan Mastiff may get cut off by a jogger because you can simply walk in the middle of the street. 

Have no fear anymore of riding your bike with your iPad XL in hand, and hell, throw on your VR headset while you work on your AI start-up from the comfort of your own corridor of streets. The city is yours. You may have just moved here a month ago, but isn’t it so splendid that elites before you have redone city planning so that you will always have your parking spot as well as your garage? 

Now think, is there a Slow Street in your neighborhood? Or do you happen to be part of a more urban and populated city sector where life can’t afford to slow down? 

Think of neighborhoods like Bayshore and others, where substantial numbers of families reside, and yet those areas will likely never be afforded the luxury of a Slow Street. 

Suddenly, the issue raises questions about accessibility. Gated communities like Presidio Terrace could be considered one large and ostentatious slow street. 

Life moves at a leisurely pace on Easy Street, at least for those who live there. However, this pace does not suit everyone, and seems to install an invisible fence around such spaces.

The more you look around at this beautiful city, the more you realize it has been bought, sold and sanitized. Money has ushered in a new generation of transplants who have changed the face of San Francisco right down to the street level. And although the city has become their playground, it rarely benefits the people who are actually from here.

Our own government is kicking other crises like homelessness under the rug for the sake of a pristine, picture-perfect neighborhood that borders on a slow New Jersey county. 

San Francisco seems to be the best of both worlds. Can you afford both sides?