By Lisa Smith

What comes to mind when you think of the people and places who impact your health and well-being?

If you’re like me, you probably think of nurses, doctors, clinics, and hospitals. I have grown up in North American society, and my view of health has been shaped by largely western values, beliefs, as well as social expectations that uphold and legitimize the authority of medicine and medical professionals. You are probably less likely to think about municipal planners, community members, public works and maintenance workers, or what streets, sidewalks and walkways look like.

Yet, our built environment has a profound impact on our overall well-being—which includes physical, mental, and spiritual dimensions. Increased access to green and blue spaces can positively impact the likelihood of engaging in physical activity as part of daily routines, as well as decrease levels of stress and depression. But its effect is bigger than just individual bodies; our environment has a profound impact on health outcomes of populations. Whether we are healthy or not is about healthcare workers and sites, but it’s also about many other people and the wider social context we find ourselves in.

I live in a neighborhood just on the edge of a bustling urban center. Vancouver is small when compared to many other international cities, but there are still a lot of people and a great deal of concrete. As a city experiencing considerable population growth that is outpacing available infrastructure and housing, it seems a new tower is erected every day, encroaching on what little green space remains. As buildings go up, trees are removed and replaced with generic landscaping worked in between concrete. The image below is just one example, featuring a rezoning proposal for a new build. The building adds vital densification (great!), but it is surrounded by concrete sidewalks. Sidewalks are important for facilitating walking or rolling through city space, but the plants have a small footprint when compared to the whole project.  

Alongside new builds, other projects seem to reimagine what city building can look like by increasing (rather than limiting, removing or eliminating) blue and green spaces. In many cases, such projects limit cars and increase space for cyclists and pedestrians, tackle needed infrastructure improvements, and/or make use of or create multiple uses for transport or industrial sites. Many such projects also reintroduce local plant species.

One example is the Westwood Greenway, in Los Angeles. It’s built alongside a busy light rail line and in addition to naturally filtering and cleaning water, it also shelters many local birds, insects, and animals. Projects like this demonstrate a different approach to creating public space in the city, and most importantly have the potential to include and factor in other living creatures and the natural environment—something we should all care about.

In my own neighborhood, I watched with delight as the St. George Rainway—a “green rainwater infrastructure and sustainable transportation project” was constructed. The project “aims to re-imagine the street to support nature, mobility, community and learning.”

I walk my dog here every day, often more than once. I found myself drawn to the St. George Rainway project site even before it was fully complete. Community members watched with curiosity as the different elements were layered in. While there were disruptions during construction, I mostly sensed anticipation, rather than annoyance. A lot of effort was put into engaging and consulting with community members about what the project should look like–including local organizations, youth, and schools.

The final result is nothing short of stunning, inspiring, and beautiful; and I know I’m not the only one. While visiting, I noticed kids exploring in the soil with parents or caregivers, pairs of people walking slowly along the path and peering into the plants or pointing to birds or other living creatures. People seem more likely to take their time when compared to other streets in the neighborhood where there is only a sidewalk.

But it’s not just about the humans. I noticed that my dog will automatically turn towards the rainway as we head down the street. As she sniffs her way along the path, I happily indulge her as I try to spot a bird in the shrubs, an insect in the dirt or take a look to see if the water is filling up.  

An informational panel at the mid-way of the rainway acknowledges  the local First Nations as traditional custodians of the territory. The panel also provides context for the project and emphasizes the people—such as the St. George Rainway Community Group–who advocated and pushed for this space to become a reality. The panel is a reminder of the politics of public space, the work it takes, and that no social setting emerges without action.

As a resident, the rainway project has a positive impact on my overall health and well-being. It inspires me to get out and move more if I’m feeling inclined to stay indoors. But it’s also expanded my sense of the impact of city infrastructure on waterways and what other living beings need to thrive in city space. Above all, I’m invited to slow down, pause, and listen–not just because the sign tells me too—but because the space makes it a natural thing to do.

Share in the comments if you live near a rainway, greenway, or blueway. Even better, post a pic and share what you experience when passing through this space.

The Westwood Greenway and the St. George Rainway both invite community scientists to contribute to building knowledge about the projects. Would you consider becoming involved in a project like this? What is the value of community-based research projects for re-imagining city infrastructure?

Photos courtesy of the author