Walking in Chicago: A Journey of Unity, Self-Discovery, and Empowerment through Urban Exploration
My perspective on walking has been transformed through the many walks I’ve taken in Chicago these past few weeks. As a woman and a person of color, my parents always advised me to never walk alone or late at night. Wandering alone in the city was a new experience for me that I wasn’t prepared for, but it made one thing clear: there is more benefit in exploring the city than hiding from the dangers of it. Rather than spending my walks in constant fear of being robbed or attacked, I paid more attention to my surroundings and the life around me. This focus led me to learn more about Chicago in 7 weeks than in the 18 years I’ve lived there. My journey began by realizing how little I knew about Chicago, my process of adjusting to a new viewpoint on walking, and my perspective on walking ultimately being reconstructed as I saw growth in myself as a walker.
In my walk on Paseo Boricua in Humboldt Park, I learned about the struggles of the Puerto Rican community and gentrification’s attempt to wipe away their native roots. Puerto Ricans were initially located in Lincoln Park, but due to Lincoln Park’s redevelopment and urban renewal programs (gentrification), they relocated to Humboldt Park and West Town. Paseo Boricua stands on Division Street, where processions and Parades are held for Puerto Rican holidays, making it a prominent street in the Chicago Puerto Rican community’s history. Unfortunately, gentrification is an ongoing problem for the Puerto Rican community as the city attempts to redevelop Humboldt Park as they did Lincoln Park. I never knew about the marginalized communities within Chicago other than the black community, so starting my walking journey with this new insight into Chicago neighborhoods sparked my realization that I have never truly explored Chicago on foot.
When this realization formed, I knew that I’d have to put my overly cautious self aside and really pay attention to the life around me, or else I’d be ignoring what’s happening within the city I live in. The only challenge in accepting this new attitude towards walking was the dangers I’d been warned about for years walking as a woman. In Rebecca Solnit’s Walking After Midnight, she says that “legal measures, social mores subscribed to by both men and women, the threat implicit in sexual harassment, and rape itself have all limited women’s ability to walk where and when they wished.” These fears are common among women and have been ingrained in my mind for as long as I’ve known. I knew that in order to experience the city to the fullest, I’d have to become a part of it. So, that’s what I did. While walking around the Magnificent Mile and Streeterville, I kept my phone in my bag on Do Not Disturb, let go of any anxiety I might have had, and just walked. On my walk, I noticed things I would’ve never seen if I hadn’t enabled my senses. I saw a monk and said hello to him, I had a conversation with a mother watching her children, and I saw Lake Michigan from a new lens, feeling smaller than I actually was. These new experiences and sensations made me feel less alone than I actually was while walking, removing all the fear I had prior to the walk. I felt like I was a part of the city and its life, not a singular individual. Walking through the crowded streets made me a part of something larger than myself. That walk was what really set the city apart from my suburban life. In Solnit’s The Solitary Stroller and The City, she says that “cities have always offered anonymity, variety, and conjunction, qualities best basked in by walking…suburbs, scrupulously controlled and segregated. Designed for the noninteractions of motorists shuttling between private places rather than the interactions of pedestrians in public ones.” This sense of togetherness that took away the fear and loneliness I had in my experiences of walking alone could only be found when walking in the narrow, crowded streets of the city. I grew up in a suburb where life was, as Solnit mentions, controlled and segregated. Being able to be one with those around me and openly interact with them is not common discourse in the suburbs, so this privilege of being a part of something larger than myself was an encounter that would change my perception of walking forever.
As I continued my walking journey, I enjoyed exploring the vibrant city streets. I noticed the intricate buildings, each telling its own story through the light and shadows. The city’s energy seemed to seep into me, making me more aware of the diverse cultures around me. Each step felt like I was embracing the city’s mix of people and places. I loved listening to bits of conversations and watching the lives of those who called this city their home. The mix of voices and accents created a symphony, making me feel like I belonged here. My steps matched the city’s pulse, creating a connection between me and the lively city.
I felt like every corner had a different story to tell, making me realize that the people here were not so different from me. I was part of the city now, and it felt amazing. I enjoyed talking to strangers, and it made me feel brave. I realized that everyone here had their struggles, just like me. With each person I passed by, I felt stronger, like the people here were giving me the courage to explore more. each walk became an adventure, and I found myself growing and changing. The city wasn’t just a place; it was a cozy spot where everyone could find a friend.
The true growth I saw in myself as a walker was how comfortable I became in the streets. Walking always felt like an effort because I would feel the need to prepare for it: to look presentable and be ready for the slight possibility of something going wrong. Now, I walk as my authentic self because no one’s actively paying attention to me, I am one with them. I have no fear of the worst that could happen in the city because I am in unity with all those around me. In Solnit’s Paris, or Botanizing the Asphalt, she describes walking as “to be away from home and yet feel at home anywhere.” At home, I am comfortable in my skin and have now become comfortable in my skin walking. If I can feel safe walking in a city, I can feel that same sense of safety anywhere I walk, making me feel like a citizen of the world.
I can confidently say that there are more benefits in exploring the city than hiding from it: learning more about the uniqueness and conflicts within each neighborhood, seeking out new people, discovering new experiences and sensations, and gaining the confidence to go out into the world and explore the unknown because an act as simple as walking has the ability to change one’s worldview.
Walking in Chicago for 7 weeks was an experience I’ll never forget because of how much I learned as an individual, but I believe it is also important to note the importance of walking alongside a group of people. Aside from my own experiences with walking, walking with a group of people who I am blessed to call my friends was an experience I’ll never forget as well.
Works Cited:
Amato, J. “Wanderlust: A history of walking. by Rebecca Solnit. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000, VIII, 326PP.).” Journal of Social History, vol. 35, no. 1, 2001, pp. 300, https://doi.org/10.1353/jsh.2001.0074.
Amato, J. “Wanderlust: A history of walking. by Rebecca Solnit. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000, VIII, 326PP.).” Journal of Social History, vol. 35, no. 1, 2001, pp. 182, https://doi.org/10.1353/jsh.2001.0074.
Amato, J. “Wanderlust: A history of walking. by Rebecca Solnit. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000, VIII, 326PP.).” Journal of Social History, vol. 35, no. 1, 2001, pp. 258, https://doi.org/10.1353/jsh.2001.0074.
Maldonado, Edwin. “Contract labor and the origins of Puerto Rican communities in the United States.” International Migration Review, vol. 13, no. 1, 1979, pp. 103–121, https://doi.org/10.1177/019791837901300106.
