Introduction
This paper proposes to take us on a journey, through space and time, along a segment of the Anacostia River in Washington D.C. The journey is depicted through the eyes of a female walker that experiences and narrates her encounters while walking along the river. Our walker, or flâneuse from the French verb flâner or “one who wanders aimlessly,” becomes the walker-observer-writer of a slightly utopian future in which the river ecology of the Anacostia is brought to the forefront of community revitalization. The District is growing and the forecasted forces at play left ungoverned have the potential to fragilize this unique river ecosystem, as well as ostracize communities that border the Anacostia. The paper is essentially trying to explore the role of health promoting landscape policies that are known to promote urban growth in accordance with social and ecological systems via the deployment of innovative solutions that strengthen a community-led economy by supporting a river-based ecology.
Through wandering, the flâneuse experiences the results of those policies and their implementation through built environment changes that are phenomenologically promoting the physical and mental health of communities. [1] Although progress has been made, they are still insufficient policies that contribute to both building equity and livability in cities. By bringing diverse representatives from our urban communities that are often misrepresented, in the governance of our cities, we have a greater chance to rewrite the rules and build urban environments that drive changes and inclusion. [2]
So why don’t we take a journey through space and time, and experience the Anacostia River through our flâneuse’s sensorial lens and break away from reality into a landscape of possibilities?[3]
The unwritten journey
Circa 2050, Washington DC is home to 1.7 million new residents, and the forces that shaped the fragmented past of the Anacostia River valley are no longer present. The air quality has greatly improved, and long-term air pollution has drastically been reduced with the adoption of a community wealth map that builds on non-polluting modes of transportation such as transit, walking, and bicycling.[4] Since the District adopted one of the country’s most aggressive clean energy actions to date with the Clean Energy Omnibus Amendment Act of 2018, it has reduced by 50 percent its greenhouse gas emissions below 2006 levels and encouraged low to zero GHG travel modes. It did so by placing a fee on fuel-based consumption that roughly doubled by 50 percent its investments in supporting the deployment of clean transportation infrastructure inclusive of its services vehicles and freight systems. Investments were also made in support of the siting of solar, wind, and thermal renewable-energy generation projects on its public lands so that fossil fuels are no longer the dominant source of energy in the District.[5]
Our flâneuse is arriving via an emission-free water taxi, and her journey follows the one Captain Smith took on his exploration of the Chesapeake Bay and newly discovered tributary in 1608.
The Anacostia River Valley was then and is now home to a vibrant socio-ecological and administrative unit that is economically and environmentally productive. It is also home to a culturally rich and diverse community that has a mission to preserve, protect, and enhance the river’s shoreline into one healthy biosphere that one can walk uninterrupted. As the boat gets near the shore and reaches the Diamond Teague water taxi landing, the flâneuse debarks onto a public pier located at the intersection of First Street Southeast and the Anacostia River. Our flâneuse is feeling the river’s cool and warm natural breeze, observing its mysteriously dark and silvery complexion—although foreign to this place - she senses a primal connection to water.
Walking along the South Potomac Avenue tree-lined promenade, our flâneuse can hear families play and sun-soak on the river’s white sandy beach - a unique destination at the Yards. In the near distance, she sees the monumental Frederick Douglass Memorial Bridge and its above-deck structure of dual sequential arches.
History and race have shaped and continue shaping the American landscape along with our flâneuse’s phenomenological experience of the District. The Anacostia environment embodies the process of convergence: It has been shaped by water, sand, mud, blood, and for the most part, displaced cultures.[6] Once a divide, the river is now a unifying and far-reaching dendritic landscape.[7] This memorial bridge was built in tribute to Frederick Douglass, an abolitionist leader, statesman, and prominent American social reformer. Where the bridge abuts the land, lines chiseled into the soft limestone, our flâneuse reads: [8]
Once on the bridge, the flâneuse can fully absorb the panorama of the river from the vantage point of one of its belvederes. The sinuous snake-shaped waterway, against the low-rise District skyline, emerges eastward from its upland forested areas. The surface of the river glitters with light, and its shores are alive with bikers, joggers, and nature lovers. From her promontory view, our flâneuse heads down a curvilinear path along with rounded planting areas and gently sloped walkways toward Poplar Point Park, a vital waterfront community space that is now framed by colorful meadows and shade trees. She sees people sitting on the steps of a natural amphitheater and children running around an open lawn that is used by the local community for impromptu seasonal activities.
The grounds are carefully maintained by the DC Greenworks youth who have for mission to promote the establishment of native meadows and woodlands as well as care for active and passive parkland spaces along the River. On her way, our flâneuse is passed by a group of individuals on personal electric skateboards zipping down the multi-modal path toward the Poplar Point EcoDistrict. A large land acreage that had historically been managed by the National Park Service (NPS) was by Congress transferred back to the District as part of the DC Lands Act to the District in 2024.
“. . . Like man, America imagines it is free, imagines it is one, imagines it prizes independence, liberty and justice—but in fact, like man, America swarms with contradictions held together physically rather than morally—economically and geographically, rather than through intention and purpose, America must remember itself. And it is the slave, the black man, living in chains, physically or otherwise, who is the instrument of remembering. Feel the truth of what you are, America, and at the same moment do! Act! Risk yourself for what you know is right and true . . . Fellow-citizens! . . . The existence of slavery in this country brands your republicanism as a sham, your humanity as a base pretense, and your Christianity as a lie. It destroys your moral power abroad; it corrupts your politicians at home. It is the antagonistic force in your government, the only thing that seriously disturbs and endangers your Union.”
—Needleman, J. (2002). The American soul: Rediscovering the wisdom of the Founders. TarcherPerigee
The prospect
Our flâneuse is now entering the neighborhood of Poplar Point via a winding wetland and river forest budding with life. She slowed down her pace and engaged herself along an elevated boardwalk, a universally accessible floating structure that allows pedestrians to walk above the fragile and rich tidal habitat of Poplar Point’s marsh wildlife preserve. She sees two box turtles sunbathing on a semi-submerged log and hears the sweet songs of cardinals and marsh wrens in the background. A red-wing blackbird is hiding in a cluster of cattails, and a couple of bird watchers are spying her moves amidst the reserve’s dense riparian vegetation. The Poplar Point’s development partnership team incorporated the latest environmentally friendly modular construction technologies to keep costs low and housing sales and rents more affordable. Now close to 5,000 dwelling units are tightly connected in a Lego-like fashion, shaped as midrise buildings that are terraced and tapered toward the north to maximize the residents’ views toward the river. For a more productive use of the land, the District had adopted a no minimum parking requirement and incentivized the development team in programming the environment to be pedestrian-friendly with amenities, public transit, and bikeways network within a fifteen-minute walking distance.[9] Urbanity was important, but the Poplar Point’s marsh wildlife preserve was to be central to the development and circumscribed by a thirty-foot-wide pedestrian esplanade shaded with trees and fronted by retails and services. Businesses and services were carefully selected by the development team in partnership to be in majority minority-owned. Portions of the businesses’ profits and commercial property taxes were re-invested in the creation of health and educational services, such as environmental, educational, health, and job training programs.
During lunch and dinner hours, the esplanade is filled by a large crowd of passersby and locals in search of connection and entertainment. A recommendation was made to the flâneuse to stop by NuVegan Café to have a local soul food experience. She is welcomed by a server with long red dreadlocks that swayed down his back to the rhythm of the O’Jays’ “Love Train.” After staring at the menu up on the wall, she orders a bowl of candied yams with ginger collards and a blueberry-banana hemp shake. The terrace is unfortunately full, but she spots a place to sit on a public bench that is agreeably shaded by a large swamp white oak tree. Her grab-and-go meal is delicious, earthy, and fresh, with a hint of spices. The manager of the café where her lunch was purchased told her that their food was mainly made out of locally sourced and sustainably farmed ingredients except for her bananas and hemp-milk ingredients.
Locavorism and vegetarianism were now a new normal. The successive pandemic crises that the world endured during the 2020s unveiled the illegitimate and unethical nature of our world food supply chain. A meat-driven diet and mass farming practices had severely endangered the planet and indirectly threatened human food-web stability. Developed countries had to shift their wasteful culinary habits and adopt more sustainable ones. Giant US companies (e.g., Smithfield and Tyson) had closed after the World Health Organization (WHO) and the United Nations (UN) had essentially been empowered to ban wet markets and mass slaughterhouses amid concerns over the spread of food-borne diseases worldwide.[10] The COVID-19 sanitary crisis had closed gyms and disrupted the nature of our office settings, and it had also reenacted the socioeconomic value of having parks and open spaces in our urban ecosphere. The Poplar Point’s marsh wildlife preserve had been created out of a desire to restore the ecology and promote the development of public places while integrating social distancing as a new normal. Sitting there under the oak tree, our flâneuse is taking it in, enjoying the warmth of the sun, the filtered shade, and the comfort of her surroundings.
“The places that we have known belong now only to the little world of space on which we map them for our own convenience.”
—Proust, M. (1920). Swann’s way. Digireads.com, Reprint edition (January 1, 1920).
Shortly after finishing her lunch, she departs from Poplar Point and heads toward the 11th Street Bridge Park event space. Scott Kratz’s vision is well in place and our flâneuse can hear from afar the sounds of a live performance. The Park happens to host a special fundraising event to support the development of permanently affordable housing units in Ward 8. The event is sponsored by a community land trust (in partnership with City First Homes), a Ward 8 Homebuyers Club (MANNA), and housing counseling services. All Bridge Park’s profits generated by this venue will be invested in the financing of cultural, educational, and health programs that are administered by neighboring businesses, sciences, and arts organizations. Members from the workforce incubators The HIVE 2.0 are cheering the crowd and offering raffle ticket sales from local businesses such as the Honfleur Gallery, Co-Work environment (Anacostia Arts Center), and a one-stop farming-processing-distributing hub (The Fresh Food Factory). Native Regina Hall is dancing on stage while Rare Essence’s James “Funk” Thomas and E.U.’s Sugar Bear performed. Our flâneuse is feeling the beat and syncopated rhythms of the musical phenomenon of Go-Go’s music and its blended funk, Pentecostal, and West African rhythmic influences.
Across the river, our flâneuse can see the Anaquash development skyline in the afternoon sun. In 2038, the site formerly known as the RKF Stadium, located due east of the US Capitol building on the west bank of the Anacostia River, was now being managed by the Anaquash community land trust. The name Anaquash, which means “Village Trading Center” in the Nacotchtank Indian spoken language was adopted unanimously by residents. The development attracted a consortium of universities that brought together diverse fields of study, employment opportunities, and mixed-income housing. A similar housing experiment was led in the heart of Copenhagen, the Danish capital back in the ’70s. Alike Christiania, the Anaquash district had sustainably grown with the adoption of strategic and adapted community land-based policies.[11]
Our flâneuse was now entering one of the Anaquash newly revitalized socio-ecological precincts, an area bigger than San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park, encompassing the Anacostia Park, the Kingman Lake and islands, and the Kenilworth Aquatic Center. The Anacostia Park was repurposed to have a flexible open lawn, grassy meadows, waterfront promenade with trees, a beach with natural swimming pools, family-owned eateries, and an ecological restoration job-training program center. The Anacostia Park’s meadows now showcase a variety of flora and fauna native to this area, including the Virginia saltmarsh mallow plant along with the American woodcock, which had been successfully reintroduced when their habitats had been replenished by environmental restoration. Several America’s conservation corps Student Conservation Association (SCA) alumni had decided to steward their way back to the District and led the advancement of youth development through the creation of a restoration training program center. One of the program’s missions was to promote the planting of 1 million trees and the restoration of 2,500 acres of wetland along the Anacostia Riverwalk Trail.
Our flâneuse’s river-walking journey was directly impacted by SCA’s mission and its sensory-rich landscapes. Whether she was strolling up through an established oak-hickory forest, standing amidst a wildflower meadow, or walking down the river edge and lowland riparian area, her experiences varied. Those habitats were biodiversity hotspots and opportunities for our flâneuse to encounter species that were in some instances nowhere else found. She was in a shared territory: The wood tortoise, Jefferson salamander, and the Allegheny black snake were all calling the Anacostia River home. The petrels, sandhill cranes, and pileated woodpeckers were flocking above the river’s clear water and woodland areas. One of the oldest fish species, the Atlantic sturgeon, had returned, and along with it, populations of bald eagles and ospreys… Rachel Carson’s dream. Our flâneuse, along with others, could now observe those majestic creatures exercising their graceful soars above the river.[12]
The US Department of Agriculture (USDA) had also helped launch a demonstration oyster and mussel farm at the foot of the National Arboretum. Farming mussels for cleansing waters was first investigated along the New York Harbor shores by scientists from the US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). When the program was suggested to the District, clean water in Anacostia was something in short supply, but the co-culturing of those filter feeders, along with other community-action-led watershed remediation activities, have contributed to the restoration of the river’s water quality.
The Anacostia River was not only again swimmable; it was also navigable. A navigational channel was dredged by an environmentally friendly company up to Maryland Bladensburg’s port. The channel remediation was funded by Exelon and Solar DC, a local joint venture that had a mission to generate energy to the Anacostia River Valley via renewable sources in exchange for funding opportunities that were of benefit to its communities. Two former industrial and brownfield sites (e.g., Pepco’s Benning Road plant and Washington Gas manufacturing plant) were retrofitted into waste-to-energy plants with solar rooftop farms to facilitate the deployment of green-powered electricity generation hubs. Other solar-energy production sites were allocated at key locations along the river corridor, mostly on church and school grounds to generate revenues from the leasing of the land that were to be reinvested in the community’s deployment of health-supporting services. Residents and visitors were now able to wind along with a continuous and barrier-free riverwalk trail system that spans over water and land, connecting eight different neighborhoods from Hains Point to the District–Maryland boundary and beyond.
From the Anaquash District, our flâneuse rents an e-bicycle from a public bike rack at one of the District docking stations at Benning Road NE and 36th Street. The rental price is low: For $2 a day, her District SmartPass allows her to use all major and alternative public modes of transportation within the Metro DC area. Instead of hopping on a bike, she could have jumped on the H Street / Benning Road DC Streetcar Line but chose to shave off some calories and did not wait for her ride. Benning Road rights-of-way had been retrofitted into a multimodal boulevard that accommodated high levels of service to pedestrians, bicyclists, and transit users. She was comfortably and effortlessly riding across the Anacostia River, on a dedicated bike super-highway, separated by two narrow carriageways and a central transit lane that were separated by bioretention trees to promote pollutants removal and passive shading. The day was ending, and she was ready to adjourn her journey and reach her boutique hotel, The Hub, which was located at the intersection of East Capitol Street and 35th Street SE. Her final destination was now known to be a mecca for travelers in search of authentic African-American hospitality and soul food. The ownership and management of this Airbnb platform had strategically chosen this location for its direct proximity to a food co-op market and café brasserie where residents and visitors could sip coffee and beer while buying fresh food. Products were seasonally changed to include ingredients that were harvested and delivered by local growers who used church grounds, commercial rooftops, and privately developed hydroponic facilities to feed their community and others. The food co-op was located above an airspace. The Ward 7 land community trust had acquired the air rights above a three-block-long recessed portion of East Capitol Street. Parallel parking stalls were turned into flexible parklets with colorful permeable pavers, and site furnishing elements were there to accommodate diverse community-based attractions such as farmer stands. This decked-over airspace had filled an urban gap and physically re-stitched a portion of the street-grid plan that had been left fragmented by the intrusion of a disconnected thoroughfare. The forty-acre commercial and residential zone was powered by locally produced renewable energy sources. The co-mingling of planning and entrepreneurial spirits had healed this area of Ward 7 and given its community a heart. The food co-op was not just a place to buy farm-fresh groceries but a shared workspace with a virtual-global outreach. This “made in Anacostia” was being advertised on the world wide web and was generating a neighborhood scale economy that had exceeded all expectations.
Although utopian, our flâneuse’s journey through space and time has for function to springboard our imagination to rethink the role of planning and policymaking in support of a more holistic societal and environmental construct. Bachelard, Brinckerhoff, and even Proust demonstrate through their writings that collectively, humans have the transformative power to shape the spaces they inhabit.[13] Indirectly, those spaces form an intricate web of social, physiological, and biological relations that inform our place in nature—either parasitic or symbiotic. As we have seen, economy and technology are not enough; we need to ethically and philosophically shape the legislative and regulatory pathways of sustainability so that human needs and poverty are addressed, along with managing our behavior and consumption to promote wealth through socio-ecological wellness.[14]
“The first man who, having fenced in a piece of land, said "This is mine," and found people naïve enough to believe him, that man was the true founder of civil society. From how many crimes, wars, and murders, from how many horrors and misfortunes might not any one have saved mankind, by pulling up the stakes, or filling up the ditch, and crying to his fellows: Beware of listening to this impostor; you are undone if you once forget that the fruits of the earth belong to us all, and the earth itself to nobody. “
—Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712–1778). Discourse on the Origin of Inequality
A social-ecological construct
Planning for healthy and productive landscapes is paramount to promoting sustainable urban growth. Promoting the development of man- and nature-based ecosystem services has the potential to build a robust network of local resources and services that communities can use to boost their self-reliance and economy. Encouraging land activities that preserve and enhance those services regardless of how much one acquires or possesses. A large majority of the District residents live within a mile of the river and could essentially depend on its ecosystem-based services. Understanding how biodiversity losses affect losses elsewhere—that the whole food webs and other ecosystem functions are interdependent—can inform the way we plan and construct cities.
Humanity is now facing two of its greatest challenges -- climate change and a promise of wealth that is undermined by creeping inequalities. Now is the time to create models of growth in support of low-carbon urban communities, and climate positive developments that have the potential to kickstart an equitable and greener growth. Climate change and the COVID-19 pandemic have unveiled gaps in the governance of our commons. Uncertainty can somehow shatter our reality and force us to think, imagine and innovate anew contract with our environment and others. Rutger Bregman wrote in his book “Utopia for Realists: How We Can Build a Better World”, that we are living in an age of biblical changes. Our sense of reality and learned ideals are changing, and past utopia becomes today’s dystopia.
Relative to utopic endeavors, Le Corbusier had a vision for cities, they were meant to be made more efficient, and somehow machine-like. It was an ideal of order and homogeneity, that led a generation of planners in believing that blank walls, windswept plazas, and towers in the park were key to urban happiness. [15]Another form of utopia, Freetown Christiania, Copenhagen’s celebrated social experiment, was an abandoned military base that was inhabited and brought back to life by squatters. The community-administered enclave that had since its inception been left alone by the city of Copenhagen, was put up for sale in 2012. The community formed a collective and via the selling of social shares and additional loans, was able to purchase the land. Having normalized their relation to the land and its ownership, the challenge is now for the community of Christiania to maintain the model of affordability, and the free and radically diverse social experiment it started. [16]
The East Village in New York City in the 60s and 70s was a unique social experiment. Prolific writers from the Beat Generation, such as Alan Ginsberg, wrote of the distinctive nature of the place, a rough and rugged ecosystem where social outcasts, working-class groups, expatriated entrepreneurs and avant-garde artists lived and mixed. Patty Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe, two lower-middle-class prolific artists, found in this social tenement a cornucopia of inspiration that allowed them to accomplish their gifted selves. Jeremiah Moss artfully wrote about this period of history and this neighborhood’s creative society. It was a distinct bohemian economy that relied on the presence of a rare cultural flora and fauna, an ecosystem made of affordable tenements and storefronts, where people came, clustered, and coexisted.
“[Bohemia] should … be the preserve of…insomniacs and restaurants and bars that never close; bibliophiles and the little stores and stalls that cater to them; alcoholics and addicts and deviants and the proprietors who understand them; aspirant painters and musicians and the modest studios that can accommodate them; ladies of easy virtues and the men who require them; misfits and poets from foreign shores and exiles from remote and cruel dictatorships”
—Christopher Hitchens
Copenhagen’s Christiania and New York’s East Village share similar tenemental ferments that were born out of countercultural societies. They were affordable, which is one of the sole reasons why they were filled with artists, poets, and misfits. [17]It is therefore important to question the character of growth and how a free-market economy can best promote a culturally-free and equitable society. Gentrification in the District is rapidly displacing low-income residents and gradually replacing them with higher-income residents. Neighborhoods such as Adams Morgan, Mount Pleasant, and Capitol Hill illustrate the transformation of once-shabby neighborhoods into gentrified and sanitized ones. The same forces that hit the New York’s East Village bohemian community of the 60s and 70s, have transformed Columbia Heights and will next transform the Anacostia river communities. We need to understand those development forces, to not displace long-term and low-income residents but bring them along with the success of the place --- for a truer and more authentic form of place-making. [18]
Conclusion
Our flâneuse took a journey through space and time, along the Anacostia River and broke away from reality into a landscape of possibilities. We chronicled her experiences and imagined settings and environments that were meant to bring the integrity of the river and its watershed ecology in parity with the growth of its communities. We envisioned a future where class and race were no longer de-structuring and dividing the fabric of our society. We reenacted a past, where the health and beauty of the great Anacostia watershed valley, its forested woodlands, and riparian ecosystems, that drew migrants to inhabit its shores, could once again be seen and celebrated.
We have seen that launching a greener “New Deal” will require us to adopt new behavioral habits in the consumption and extraction of natural resources. We also learned that in the cases of Copenhagen’s Freetown Christiania and New York’s East Village the absence of government interventions and social welfare institutions fostered the growth of uniquely heterogeneous and free communities. In both cases, the freeing of social norms and values was key to unleashing prosperous individual enterprises, setting forward human ingenuity as the ultimate economic driver. The societal mechanisms that have supported the emergence of those business models that were ethically framed by communities and philosophically driven by innovation have demonstrated their inherent power to grow equity and diversity. It is therefore important to understand the limits of policymaking when favoring human capital as the primary driver of urban revitalization. In a world where the globalization of trade and investment is intensifying, we need to carefully craft policies so that they not only promote a creative economy but also benefit its creative society.
In 2020, the U.S. has experienced the compound effects of climate change, a polarized election, and a COVID world. This is an opportunity to rebuild, differently. To do so we will require an amount of generational human talent in the rethinking of our socio-environmental paradigm in the revitalization of our communities and cultures. The adoption of innovative land and community paradigms whose mission is to boost local pride via the launching of innovative economic reforms that embrace socio-environmental pluralism are worth preserving. We are not suggesting a return to a Marxist-Leninist form of land distributism, but rather the creation of a marketplace that addresses historically-rooted disparities in equity and justice through strategic social and environmental investments.
The flâneuse opened a window of what is possible - public policies and land laws are constructs that enable society to grow. We cannot ignore what happened but must keep looking toward the future in hopes of creating a better tomorrow for generations to come. We have an opportunity to re-think the conceptual framework that has shaped our parents and that is now shaping us. We can be the movers and shakers of a brand and bold new plan that embraces the notion that ecology and economy are compatible and that when brought in parity they can synergistically help reduce social and wealth disparity. Restoring the vitality of an urban river will require us to think like a watershed. Water follows the contours of the land and forms a tightly connected network that is contracting and expanding through time and space. Some of those networks are quite large and can span across multiple states and jurisdictions such as the Chesapeake Bay watershed. When it comes to thinking like a watershed, we need to understand the interdependent and scalar relationships that exist between its various ecosystems so that we do not impede but participate in the functioning of its ecology-based services.[19] We are now being forced to rethink our land consumption, to see it as an environmentally conscious act, and to conceive land as a common ground that is to be shared, not owned. This abstract might sound slightly prosaic against the imminent rise of nationalism, the threat of global warming, and the rampant worldwide social inequities. Nevertheless, knowing that any given societal and economic constructs were once developed in the hopes of building a better future for generations to come, we can perhaps imagine that a Green New Deal is our next national promise. We need to essentially understand and value the complex interrelations and dynamics that exist between our social and Earth’s ecological systems. We have an environmental debt that can be restored if we accept to change today’s status quo. Starting with the legislative framework of our environment, we can help develop policies and initiatives that are in support of a new land paradigm and behavioral shift.
“A map of the world that does not include Utopia is not worth even glancing at, for it leaves out the one country at which Humanity is always landing. And when Humanity lands there, it looks out, and, seeing a better country, sets sail. Progress is the realization of Utopias”.
—Oscar Wilde (1854-1900). The Soul of Man Under Socialism
Figure SEQ Figure \* ARABIC 11Figure 4. Chesapeake watershed, the six states, and the District. Source: the Chesapeake Watershed Program. The physiography of the Anacostia River drainage basin is quite unique and is part of a larger area called the Chesapeake Bay watershed. The latter encompasses parts of six states—Delaware, New York, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Maryland, and West Virginia—and is formed by more than 100,000 streams, creeks, and rivers
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