San Diego Doesn’t Want You to Take a Seat

On a crisp November morning, a group of men in motorcycle jackets murmur against the soundscape of a self-cleaning restroom, faces basking in the steam of their hot coffees. 

To my right, a handful of senior citizens practice tai chi in the shadow of a large tree. To my left, a young couple makes out on a bench.

This, of course, was not in San Diego. It was a Monday morning at Washington Square in San Francisco. But maybe you already knew that.

Was it the self-cleaning restroom that gave it away, or the prospect of public seating?

On this morning in San Francisco, charmed by the quiet contentment of sitting in public with no expectation of payment, I wondered: Why don’t I do this more? Surely this lesson in leisure could be applied to my everyday life in San Diego?

So, upon returning home, I walked to North Park Community Park with a book in hand, locked and ready to linger.

First, I saw the concrete picnic tables. Utilitarian, but the backless seats made them less than ideal.

Eventually, a bench appeared – a bulky, concrete slab directly facing the back of a public restroom, within which the stalls had no doors. 

Needless to say, this was not exactly my vision.

A handful of things are necessary for people to exist in public spaces: places to sit, restrooms, shade, trash cans. Without them, public parks and sidewalks become liminal spaces to be passed through, but never a destination themselves.

For some, this is a matter of leisure. For others, a question of existence. 

The primary reason for our dearth of public seating is often unspoken, but obvious: This infrastructure is disproportionally used by poor and unhoused people, for whom a lack of access to private spaces translates into a higher dependence on public amenities.

The lack of benches is a small piece of the larger culture of exclusion that’s been embraced in cities across the nation. In San Diego, the perception that public infrastructure is a magnet for crime and homelessness has contributed to the shuttering of public restrooms, the uprooting of local benches and picnic tables and an encampment ban that pushes many homeless people off public land and further into the shadows – or at least into another jurisdiction. Out of sight, out of mind. 

Advocates on both sides of these policy debates claim to be the voice of compassion, but if you’re looking for somebody to say the quiet part out loud, look no further than Nextdoor.

“I say TURN IT ALL TO CONCRETE!!! No trees, no benches. JUST SLAB,” writes a Kensington resident in a comment thread about people camping on the side of the I-15. “They can’t gather if there’s NOTHING.”

Another resident suggested the concrete may be too inviting.

“… a field of poison ivy however…” 

It is impossible not to acknowledge the fact that pushing homeless people out of public spaces only works if they have somewhere else to go — and does nothing to resolve the systemic forces that lead to homelessness. Requests for shelter beds in San Diego recently surged after an uptick in encampment sweeps, but the San Diego Union-Tribune reported that 93 percent of those requests failed due to lack of space.

This is precisely how a bench becomes a bed.

Still, the drawbacks of a benchless society extend far beyond the unhoused community.

I recently took a walk down Third Avenue in Chula Vista, a place I have identified as being uniquely chairful. On a cloudy morning, residents dodged raindrops by posting up at one of the street’s many sets of tables and chairs, each of which are outfitted with a navy blue umbrella. Scattered amongst the patio sets are planters modeled after shipping crates – an homage to Chula Vista’s history of exporting lemons – and no lack of good, old fashioned benches.

“We have a large senior population here on Third Avenue,” said Dominic Li Mandri, district manager for the Downtown Chula Vista Association. “So we wanted to enhance the pedestrian infrastructure in downtown to accommodate not only that demographic, but also to get people to slow down.”

Walking past a selection of storefronts seemingly pulled out of a Hallmark card – a sewing machine and vacuum shop, a watch repairman and numerous local jewelers – Li Mandri explained how “placemaking” efforts such as installing chairs and planters have been a boon for local businesses. The local shop owners I spoke with agreed.

This is a far cry from the prevailing municipal perspective that public infrastructure is not an asset, but a liability.

Li Mandri also works for New City America, a company that manages special assessment districts, which are formed by property owners to support infrastructure improvements in a given area. 

New City America also played a major role in shaping Little Italy’s piazzas and public promenades with their signature red patio sets. Are we surprised that this island of public seating can be found in the only downtown neighborhood of European namesake?

Earlier this year, I attempted to get a list of all the benches in San Diego from the city and was informed that such a list does not exist. So, instead, I took a drive around downtown to scope out the state of seating for myself.

What I saw on the other side of my windowpane was less than surprising. Red patio sets courtesy of the Little Italy Association. Bayside benches thanks to the Port of San Diego. MTS-sponsored seats at (some) bus stops. And, finally, in San Diego’s Columbia District, an architectural wonder that might be a bench, or maybe a bike rack, or perhaps a secret third thing, paid for by the Downtown San Diego Partnership. (Local Redditors had much to say about this one.)

Mostly, I saw a sea of benchless curbs.

Swimming around in an ocean of concrete and asphalt, the closest thing San Diegans have to a life raft is usually a private business, where one can sit only if they’re able to pay the cost.

I fear this reality is so entrenched that most people don’t know what they’re missing. 

Some others may struggle to justify complaining about something as benign as benches, while the city actively guts public services like libraries (palaces of public seating!) 

More than anything, I want to challenge our abysmal expectations for public spaces. 

Many people are familiar with the concept of hostile architecture, where design elements are employed with the specific intention of making a space uninhabitable. But the omission of infrastructure can be just as hostile, and a lot cheaper.

So, next time your butt is stamped with the dew of wet grass, or you’re hoisting yourself atop an electrical box, or even just standing when you would rather not be, remember that it doesn’t have to be this way. I’m sure your local neighborhood association would love to hear about it!

The post San Diego Doesn’t Want You to Take a Seat appeared first on Voice of San Diego.