As a researcher in Madrid, I am reminded of my Americanness often—each time I speak to neighbors, store clerks, and members of Paisaje Transversal, or ask passersby for directions. While I am making a sincerest effort to communicate in Spanish, my accent, poor enunciation, and elementary vocabulary, immediately reveal me as una turista. Ten weeks seems to surpass the stay of most tourists yet I am keenly aware that I am a visitor, in a city, and country that is not my own. I lack the rights of a Spanish citizen however bring with me the privileges associated with American citizenship. I am spending the summer in another country by choice, for a new and different life experience. Apart from the cost of travel, I have the ability or passport rather, to spend months anywhere in the world. Amidst an emergent, global refugee crisis, and the current direction US immigration policy, it is important to consider the inherent advantage my Americanness, whiteness, and relative wealth grant me when traveling. The dichotomy between an ex-pat and a refugee is something I have thought about quite a bit. As a visitor conducting research in Madrid, I am here to observe the work of Paisaje Transversal and improve my language skills in the process. While here, I hope to better understand how urban design can serve as a tool for civic engagement and social justice. Beyond this goal, I am in Madrid with very little personal stake in Spanish politics. Still, I am leaving a social and environmental footprint that I must be cognizant of.
Living in Embajadores, a neighborhood near the center of Madrid, ensures easy access to the city at large. El Parque Retiro is a twenty minute walk from my apartment along with several historic plazas and museums. However, to enjoy public space, I must simply walk outside. Sidewalks are wide and most restaurants utilize the space for outdoor seating. At all times of day, people can be seen socializing and consuming cervezas—a lovely alternative to the to-go lifestyle many of us lead in New York. Public transportation here is incredible. While I love the antiquity of a Brooklyn-bound J train, Madrid’s underground system is far superior in its cleanliness and frequency. Cercanias, express trains, transport commuters from the city’s outer edges, and go to the airport. I have been assured that it is safe to travel to any neighborhood in Madrid. Whereas in cities like Chicago or Los Angeles, I have been warned to adhere to certain boundaries, especially if alone. As a woman living in New York City, I have set my own limits for walking solo late at night. In the US, there is often overlap between neighborhoods deemed vulnerable and those labeled unsafe. Here, vulnerable neighborhoods are working class and economically marginalized yet not characterized by high-crime. I am curious to understand why this difference in crime rates or perception of safety may exist.
Sophie, these are good questions to ask regarding what “safety” means in different parts of Madrid and in comparison to other cities you know. It’s a difficult concept to unpack because safety can often be code for working people or POC, as you know, but it can also mean that it’s an area unknown — therefore less “safe” — to people of greater means. And, of course, it can also mean crime of different degrees! This brings me to your larger question about privilege and what that says about mobility, either between countries or between different parts of a city. In other words, those areas deemed unsafe appear to be the places where people of privilege feel least mobile, either because they don’t know the culture or they don’t know how to “read” the area. Do you think this can play a part in civic engagement in some way?