 The stores put the security cameras in the laundry aisle. There's a forceful narrative that exists in America. Its message is sent to you through the government's businesses, churches, your family. The message is that the worst thing you can be is poor. Even those who believe you've transcended those problematic toxic thoughts surrounding money and personal value are terrified of any event that poses the risk of plunging you into financial ruin. Enumerable industries thrive on knowing that most of us will do whatever it takes to prevent being or appearing poor. Capitalism-induced competition infiltrates every level of our formal systems and drives you to pursue money first and purpose second. The idea that making or having less money means that we contribute or are worthless is not only integrated into our systems but also into the physical spaces that surround us. Many of the private and public spaces in our community are designed to exclude and demonize the poor. One way this is accomplished is through laws which dictate space. Take zoning regulations. In communities across the country, including Progressive Ann Arbor until this past September, zoning laws prohibit home-based businesses. A survey of city planners reported that less than half of cities in the US permit home-based businesses. So, sure, anyone can start a business but if you don't already have the means and ability to open up your own storefront, recording studio, salon or daycare in a designated commercial space, then it's often made illegal for you to operate. This barrier to entrepreneurship targets lower income individuals, curating a community where the poor are excluded from business enterprise. But local laws aren't just created to shame and exclude the poor from business but from leisure too. Spaces like this landscaped plaza pictured here are created on both public and private land for folks to gather or simply relax. These central spaces contribute to a lively community. They play host to concerts, farmers markets and other wholesome fun. Adjacent businesses benefit even though no purchase is required to use these. But look closer at this sign. Loitering is prohibited. Loitering means to occupy a space without purpose. This space was constructed for loitering. So who do you imagine the sign is targeted at? Loitering laws are deliberately vague and create a way to restrict access to public space in order to justify discrimination. The National Coalition for the Homeless assessed almost 250 cities in the US. 47% ban loitering in all public spaces. Fewer places ban you from driving a fully functional tank down a major roadway or from leaving a baby alone in a car. Loitering does not include panhandling, disturbing the peace, lying down or begging. Essentially in practice, loitering is to exist in public while poor. I was in a public library recently and a man who had fallen asleep at one of the tables while reading was politely asked to leave by a librarian. I was confused. He wasn't snoring, which I thought would have been the only rationale for asking a sleeping person to leave the library since the central library tenant is shh. The man left without kicking up a fuss. This wasn't the first time he was asked to leave a public space for loitering. But sometimes loitering laws are too vague to enforce in facilities that have the word public directly embedded, such as the public library. Earlier this month, Redondo Beach, California began enforcing rules specifically created to prevent homeless people from patronizing libraries, while simultaneously taking steps to close homeless shelters. Cities across the US have local laws limiting the rights and dignity of the poor and the homeless. But when laws can't be justified, conscious design fills in. People often remark on a neighborhood safety by indicating how many and how often if ever there are homeless people around. Have you ever wondered why homeless people don't really spend much of their time in rich neighborhoods with nicer parks, more trees, less traffic? Maybe you live in one of these neighborhoods. Being homeless is not only more likely to be criminalized in elite neighborhoods, but the spaces are less physically comfortable. For a number of bizarre reasons, I found myself living on a construction site in one of the richest towns in the US for a couple of years in my mid-20s. Every home was of course individually gated, but there was also no sidewalks, not a single sidewalk in the whole town. And there was only one public park. This town even went so far as to restrict the whole municipality zoning to only residential, single family residential. There are no businesses or facilities to patronize, no paths to stroll along so that anyone who doesn't live there is vulnerable to questioning and demonization. This model of elite exclusion is replicated across the globe. The man napping in the library obviously wasn't welcome to sleep in that indoor public space. So where do you imagine is a welcoming outdoor space for him to sleep? Hostile architecture in public spaces has substantially ramped up in the past 15 years with most cities placing virtually no restrictions on the hostility. Cities across the US invest hundreds of thousands of dollars to add spikes, studs, and other barriers to relaxing in public. But in 2007, the city of New York banned hostile architecture features that prohibited sitting. Many municipalities followed suit, but what is not included in this policy? Arm rests. Here are some public benches that I passed in the last couple of months. At first glance, the middle of the bench armrests might appear to simply be extra support for our tired arms. But the real message is that this bench is for sitting, not lying down and certainly not for sleeping. These are conscious design decisions made to discriminate against the poor. So let's say you decide to stop by a local restaurant to take a seat and relax. Many fast food restaurants keep the drive-through open at night after the dining room is closed. Hey, if it lets folks get their Crunchwrap Supreme at 3 a.m., then that's capitalism actually working. But many fast food restaurants, including McDonald's, explicitly disallow walking through the drive-through. This used to only really be a problem. It used to really only infringe on the accessibility of late night munchies. But since the pandemic began, many restaurants have kept the dining room closed all the time, including this KFC around the corner from my house. People impacted by this drive-through only model include anyone who doesn't drive a car, truck drivers, bicycle riders, walkers, but KFC wants you to know that they still value the customer. The signs on the window are clear. The dining room may be closed, but we can still serve you. You just need a car to go through the drive-through. No car, no problem. You can order online with your smartphone. No smartphone, you better get off our property. Speaking of smartphones, does anyone else hate the new need to use a QR code for everything? Taking out my phone access basic information that could just be on a sign in museums and restaurants is so frustrating. I recently passed this middle post in a large public park. Clearly a larger, presumably more informative sign was previously posted, but it seems to have been replaced by this smaller sign below, encouraging you to just use your smartphone. Since March 2020, QR code downloads have stored by almost a thousand percent, despite most of us spending most of that time at home. To folks like me who have a smartphone but aren't keen on using it for every little thing, this is merely annoying. QR codes are definitely convenient, but limiting options to access information also communicates a clear message that this space wasn't created for people who can't afford smartphones. So let's now say that you go to the grocery store. Surely the grocery store is made for everyone in the community. Kroger's trademark ethos is literally fresh for everyone. Well, the stores put the security cameras by the baby formula. Now Kroger may justify that the security cameras are in the aisles where the frequent shoplifting occurs or that hosts the more expensive products. Sure, but the cameras aren't in the candy aisle or by the $30 olive oil or in the healthy snack sections or by the beer, laundry detergent and baby formula aren't luxury products. And as far as I know, there isn't a lucrative black market for Pampers. No, these are essentials. If you're stealing laundry detergent or diapers or baby formula, you are likely desperate. But in that moment, the dire need to nourish an infant or to wash clothing is not met with the acknowledgement that, wow, this is a problem. They are in crisis. These desperate folks are instead met with the threat of criminal action. As if a parent not being able to afford formula means that a baby deserves to go hungry. I get that Kroger is a business, but if the issue of people shoplifting diapers is pervasive enough to justify expensive security equipment, perhaps capitalism isn't really working here. So yes, of course capitalism impacts business, but also each and every aspect of our society. Capitalism and wealth building are not nine to five jobs. Capitalism thrives on constant, ubiquitous, brutal exclusion. For lower income, lower resource, or simply down on your luck folks, you can have all the hustle in the world, but the physical spaces around you will still challenge your right to live and work as easily as the rich. I've truly barely scratched the surface here, so I implore you, observe your community, your local businesses, your local planning department, and consider the messaging behind the physical spaces, the lights that illuminate the road, but not the pedestrians, the differing speed limits and high and low income residential communities. Find a location in your city and figure out who it was designed for and who it was designed to exclude. Physical spaces communicate a message of who is welcome here, who is safe here, who this space is really made for. Physical spaces criminalize and demonize the poor.