Want safer cities and public spaces? Invest in BIPOC-led work.
PHOTO: Sunyu Kim
Given the increasingly urban orientation of the world, a re-set on how cities are shaped moving forward is critical. Socioeconomic disparities have long been named by Black, Indigenous and people of Colour (BIPOC). This has been compounded by the heightened visibility of systemic racism, particularly its impact on Black lives. The field of planning, specifically, is tasked with constructing our built environments and mediating our socioeconomic infrastructure through mechanisms like funding, governance and public space policy. However, through ongoing processes of colonialism and racism, planning works to reinforce oppressive systems. The lack of diversity and critical interrogation within this field – one that fails to recognize its impact on the everyday lives of communities – contributes to the perpetual underfunding of BIPOC-led initiatives and allows systemic injustice to play out in our public spaces.
Addressing the roots of injustice within our city-building and philanthropic institutions
To understand the inequity present in contemporary Canadian cities, and to produce safer public spaces, it is necessary to establish the historical role planning has played in unjustly extracting wealth and building a modern-day, settler colonial society. Notably, Canada has been extremely effective in erasing colonialism and white supremacy from its national narrative. Urban planning specifically has been used as a tool of colonialism and a mechanism for upholding white supremacy, thus sustaining the oppression of BIPOC communities. For instance, the building of cities as “civilized” spaces was consistent with delegitimizing Indigenous ways of knowing. Cities were built to remove Indigenous peoples from their lands and legitimize settler claims. Further, colonialism was (and is) a global project with which Canada has always been deeply complicit. In early iterations as French and British colonies, Canada perpetuated colonial violence on the African continent and forcibly displaced millions of African peoples to the Americas to be enslaved, the descendants of whom continue to call this part of the world home. The enslavement of Black peoples persisted in Canada for centuries; their exploitation used to build Canadian cities and economies. Today, Canada is one of the major players on the African continent in terms of aggressive resource extraction which continues to displace and dispossess Black peoples from their lands. Over time, this has created a machinery of wealth accumulation in Canada that privileges white institutions, relegating Black and racialized people to the bottom.
The mainstream understanding of public space is often presented as a tool to promote well-being and cohesion, particularly in cities where diversity and density shape social dynamics. However, public space practices are rooted in oppressive principles. In colonized places around the world, public space initiatives were presented as policies and architectural standards meant to ensure a safe and well-functioning built environment. But in effect, they were utilized to solidify socio-spatial control through the establishment of rules and laws requiring surveillance, enforcement, and policing; practices that disproportionately violate the safety of BIPOC communities. Take the efforts of a Toronto-based carpenter to build tiny shelters in public parks for those experiencing homelessness this winter. Instead of funding this initiative as an example of reimagining safety in public space, the carpenter’s efforts have been met with threats of legal action by the City; citing concerns around safety and bylaw violations.
BIPOC communities disproportionately experience homelessness and precarious housing. Toronto’s Black communities are significantly more prone to eviction. The incongruity of this injustice being that these communities are un/precariously housed through processes of historical and contemporaneous land theft and displacement of which Canada remains inextricably involved; while the ahistorical approach to public space governance and investment allows for harmful, counter-productive practices to embed themselves within our present-day institutions.
How do dominant funding models contribute to a lack of safety for BIPOC folks in public spaces?
These aforementioned processes have deeply informed Canada’s contemporary urban landscape. Canadian urban life is colour-coded and reflects the country’s legacy. The racialization of poverty, for instance, shows up in every sphere of life. Anti-Black racism is especially acute, manifesting itself through intergenerational environmental racism, over-policing, food and housing insecurity, and health disparities. While the abolition of slavery in Canada came in 1834, author Robyn Maynard discusses how emancipation shifted the criminalization and control of Black peoples from one institution (slavery) to another (policing); deeply affecting Black peoples’ ability to exist freely in public space. Today, carding and racially profiling Black people has become commonplace. Black people in Toronto are approximately 20 times more likely than white people to be involved in a fatal police shooting. Amidst COVID-19, Toronto’s racially and economically segregated neighbourhoods have been hardest hit by the pandemic. Black and other racialized communities comprise an overwhelming majority of COVID-19 cases.
To date, funding, planning and public space responses fail to meaningfully address these complexities — factors that compound the impacts and incidence of COVID-19 in these communities.
Given these racially rooted inequities, BIPOC-led work is vital. To sustainably enact BIPOC-led initiatives within our public spaces, anti-oppressive funding models need to be established and adequately resourced. Public and private resources account for a significant proportion of the funding used to support organizations that govern and animate public spaces. Yet, dominant funding models are designed to under-serve BIPOC-led organizations. According to Unfunded: Black Communities Overlooked by Canadian Philanthropy, “[a]cross all community foundations [they] reviewed, grants to Black-serving organizations represented a meagre 0.7 percent of total grants during the 2017 and 2018 fiscal years. Grants to Black-led organizations were only 0.07 percent of total grants made in the same period.” The intergenerational wealth accumulated in predominantly white institutions can be traced back to the legacies of colonialism and enslavement.
As such, current funding models perpetuate oppressive dynamics. For instance, organizations seeking funding from white institutions must “prove” a long track-record of “success” through a formally documented ability to “manage” funds. White institutions’ worship of the written word fails to acknowledge other ways of governing and gathering information, creating barriers to access. Those seeking funding must pass through rigorous application processes - which are falsely presented as objective - where their ideas are assessed by people who have little-to-no understanding of the issues at hand. Further, organizations are required to maneuver burdensome eligibility criteria such as acquiring charitable/incorporated status (a process that requires resources). Unincorporated and/or smaller grassroots organizations that have greater ties within BIPOC spaces often do not meet the baseline criteria to even apply for funding. When they do, mainstream funding bodies often lack the capacity to adequately assess their potential for impact. Consequently, funding overwhelmingly goes towards supporting mainstream organizations that claim to serve everyone; continuously building their capacity within the eyes of funders. In reality, these status quo initiatives uphold the same, white supremacist principles as mainstream funders. As a result, BIPOC, and especially Black-led/serving initiatives, remain devastatingly underfunded; perpetuating a lack of safety for BIPOC communities.
How can mainstream organizations contribute to achieving anti-oppressive funding models?
By adopting policy/practice approaches rooted in intersectional, anti-racist, and decolonial methodologies initiated and led by those who have been pushed furthest to the margins.
Ideas like this routinely elicit simplistic responses within mainstream environments; where pragmatism is prioritized over justice. Such concepts are either dismissed as not possible or it is implied that creating space for some groups comes at the expense of others. The misguided notion that BIPOC folks lack the capacity to lead society through a process of dismantling destructive systems has nothing to do with (im)possibility but rather, a lack of imagination by those holding conventional power. Importantly, BIPOC communities have been surviving (and thriving) by living out anti-oppressive principles in practice. Conversely, the paternalistic, power hoarding and either/or responses adopted by mainstream leadership are just a few of the characteristics upholding white supremacist culture within our organizations; ultimately blocking more distributed power and funding structures.
By wielding organizational and institutional accountability for justice
The last year has ushered in a disturbing trend of mainstream, predominantly white institutions suddenly acknowledging the existence of anti-Blackness and scrambling to address it. Diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) initiatives are popping up everywhere, including in organizations that mediate public space. But who is actually setting the terms of this conversation? “Profiling'' or “amplifying” BIPOC voices does little to dismantle the status quo. In actuality, it allows these organizations to reap the benefits of appearing progressive while offloading the risks to those who have the most to lose. This is especially true when organizations expect the labour and thought leadership of BIPOC folks - routinely with little-to-no compensation - as a condition for their inclusion. Speaking truth to power comes with significant consequences for those experiencing marginalization.
Instead of focusing on how to better serve BIPOC communities, organizations need to carry out an internal examination of how they uphold oppressive systems. Take a look at your board, your partners, your founding members, your donors, your leadership team. Who are they accountable to? Governments, police, corporations, extractive industries? These are the stakeholders that often work to make public spaces inherently unsafe for BIPOC communities. Rather, mainstream organizations should wield their institutional influence to redistribute resources to BIPOC-led organizations. They are the ones with the capacity and knowledge to establish new, justice-oriented institutions. Ultimately, if the underlying structures don’t change, the injustice will simply shapeshift and perpetuate.
How might safety manifest in public spaces as a result of increased and more sustainable funding for BIPOC-led initiatives?
Notably, institutions such as the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation have admittedly been involved in “funding the forced resettlement of Black people”. Importantly, such attempts to erase and oppress Black peoples in Canada have consistently been met with resistance. For example, Hogan's Alley Society “advocates for Black Vancouverites who have endured the legacies of urban renewal and their erasure from the official historical narrative” with the hopes of facilitating greater participation in city-building. Africville was a thriving Black community on the margins of Halifax for 150 years. Through racist planning directives, residents were denied basic services and obliged to live on inhospitable/toxic land. By the 1960s, citing issues of “safety”, the settlement was demolished and its residents forced to relocate. Minimal compensation or consultation took place and systemic anti-Blackness persists in Nova Scotia. Through decades of organizing, Black Nova Scotians have sustained Africville’s legacy by continuing to speak out about the impacts of systemic racism and demanding that reparations be paid. In Toronto, Black-led initiatives such as Black Futures Now TO (@bfntoronto), @BlackUrbanismTO, CP Planning and The Black Planning Project are just a few examples offering insights for those concerned with issues of cities, safety and public space. Reducing barriers to funding and investing directly in these types of initiatives have transformative potential.
What work is being done by organizers to move towards more equitable funding models?
COVID-19 has illuminated the deeply entrenched inequities within our cities, laying them bare within our public spaces. The philanthropic community has aimed to respond. However, many of these responses are (predictably) geared towards mainstream organizations, programs and services. Communities disproportionately impacted are not being meaningfully served. The need for BIPOC-owned and initiated institutions in the funding space cannot be overstated. There is work being done. Community-centric fundraising offers a model that seeks explicitly to build the power of communities of colour by centering BIPOC voices. There are policy models that support this approach. Targeted universalism, for example, establishes universal goals for society and achieves them by implementing targeted strategies based on the distinct realities of different groups. The Canadian Black Policy Network recently released a report exploring policy-making using a Black policy lens. Black public policy solutions have much to offer broader society. Again, this isn’t about taking for one group at the expense of another. This is about enacting systems rooted in collective safety and well-being.
The Circle of Philanthropy and Aboriginal Peoples in Canada “encourage[s] individuals and organizations to learn, acknowledge, and understand more about reconciliation and the decolonization of wealth”. The Foundation for Black Communities is “working with Canadian philanthropic, political and business partners to ensure that Black-led and Black-serving organizations have the sustained resources they need to make a meaningful impact”. However, digging deeper into systems of community wealth-building and collective care offer some of the most promising frameworks. While concepts like mutual aid have gained prominence amidst the COVID-19 pandemic, they have been foundational in resourcing communities facing marginalization for decades. Throughout this and preceding crises, BIPOC folks have enacted systems of mutual aid that have proven far more effective at providing targeted and relevant support. These examples offer critical guidance as we grapple with inequality.
What could this future look like?
Western-based, philanthropic “benevolence” rarely comes without strings attached. Funding for public and cultural spaces - without cumbersome conditionalities – needs to be distributed to those who have the expertise and strategic foresight to enable more just cities and public spaces. There is a wealth of BIPOC leadership examples - both past and present - that have demonstrated an ability to pivot, respond and create in the face of oppression. It is time to dismantle the formal and informal regulations that create barriers to access and invest directly into BIPOC-led, anti-oppressive initiatives and models.
