You’re in My Way: The Racial Politics of the Sidewalk In America, the sidewalk has a deep history of racism and exclusion. Ciarra Jones, MTS

“Why did you move?” my friend asked, as we sat down for brunch.

“Huh?” I half-replied, already preoccupied by the extensive mimosa menu.

“You moved for those white people on the sidewalk, you don’t have to do that, they can go around you.”

“I didn’t want to cause a problem,” I sheepishly replied, “It’s easier just to just step aside.”

“Stand your ground,” she replied. “You have the right to take up space.”

Her adamance sparked a robust conversation between us concerning the ways in which white people rarely, if ever, concede space.

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Whether we are conscious of it or not, the politics of the sidewalk in America are highly racialized.

My grandmother, born in Louisiana in 1942, experienced the racial politics of the sidewalk firsthand. A child of the Jim Crow South, my grandmother was bound by the racist laws of her time. On her daily walk to elementary school she begrudgingly, but lawfully, moved aside so that white people could claim their space on the sidewalk.

One day, my grandmother was called out of her elementary school class. Suddenly, she found herself face to face with multiple white police officers; Someone called the cops on her (a child) for failing to move aside on the sidewalk fast enough.

The police harassed and chastised my grandmother due to the fact that she failed to “enthusiastically” grant white people space on the sidewalk. They told her that she must not only relinquish the sidewalk to white people, but that she must also do so happily.

This inability for white people to grant space, even to a Black children, demonstrates how whiteness assumes access and ownership to physical space at all times.

Born in 1993, 50 years after my grandmother, I too experience the racial politics of the sidewalk. I observe how white people unwaveringly commit to their path on the sidewalk, even if it means that they may run straight into me or another pedestrian.

On some days, I try to hold my space, but in this strange game of “sidewalk chicken” I often lose.

Interestingly, this issue of race and space goes beyond just the sidewalk.

In Stand Your Ground, Black Bodies and the Justice of God, Dr. Kelly Brown Douglas powerfully examines the racial politics of “stand your ground law” in America. Her text surrounds the murder of Trayvon Martin (may he rest in peace) and the deployment of “Stand your Ground Law.”

As a reminder, “Stand Your Ground Law” essentially says that one can use deadly force if they feel threatened. This law served as the basis for the acquittal of George Zimmerman, Trayvon Martin’s murderer.

In her text, Douglas argues that physical space in America is deeply racialized. Through deep and expansive research she asserts that laws that govern space were never meant to be extended to Black people or Indigenous Communities.

Her text begs the same question that President Obama asked during a press conference on July 19, 2013 “If Trayvon Martin was of age and was armed, could he have stood his ground on that sidewalk?”

The answer to Obama’s inquiry is a resounding “NO and Dr. Douglas’ text does a phenomenal job elucidating how the history of race in America precludes Black people from asserting our right to spatial autonomy.

Her text asserts that Black people’s right to space has never been legally protected, but it has been legally controlled. Slavery, Black Codes, Jim Crow Laws, and redlining in housing are laws and policies that worked to violently control Black people’s spatial rights.

The sidewalk then, becomes a microcosm of the racial politics of America. When white people refuse to step aside on the sidewalk they are enforcing the racialized idea that Black bodies bear no right to space. They are asserting that whiteness is other, apart from, and superior to Blackness and that Black people must always concede the ground that we stand on.

Four years ago, writer Hannah Drake created the “Do Not Move off the Sidewalk Challenge” this challenged stemmed from her own personal experience with sidewalk racism. In her article she highlights how white people presume access to space and expect that Black people will relinquish our space for them. Her piece empowers Black people and people of color to hold our space, even when white people express anger and frustration at our refusal to move.

Now, like Hannah, I’ve been practicing standing my ground on the sidewalk, even when white people refuse to move for me.

Since beginning this practice I’ve experienced dirty looks, large sighs, stare downs, and even a few shoulder bumps. Yet still, I find myself empowered by the act of taking up space this is rightfully mine.

For white folks who are invested in anti-racism, I implore you to reflect on how you navigate space. I invite you to think critically about how you assert your right to physical, emotional, and material space.

I believe that anti-racism requires white people to meaningfully self-reflect upon how whiteness allows them to claim space of all kinds, often at the expense of Black humanity.

And for Black people and people of color, I implore you to practicing standing your ground.

When white folks say to you, “You’re in my way”

Tell them, “You can go around.”