Mobility Justice in Latin America: Sidewalks, Bike Lanes, and the Politics of Belonging

On a recent bike ride through Mérida, I stopped for a wheelchair user traveling in the bike lane. They had no other choice: the sidewalk beside us was broken, too narrow, and blocked by parked cars. I dismounted and yielded, but the moment lingered with me. Why does this city — and so many others across the Americas — make movement so hard for its most vulnerable residents?

Mobility is more than getting from point A to point B. It is about who gets to move freely, safely, and with dignity. The way we design sidewalks, bike lanes, and streets tells us everything about whose lives count. In cities across Latin America and the United States, policy choices about infrastructure quietly shape who belongs and who doesn’t.

We often treat infrastructure as neutral — concrete poured without politics. But no sidewalk, street, or parking lot is built outside of power. These choices create winners and losers. Free parking may sound like a public good, but as Donald Shoup has argued in The High Cost of Free Parking, it encourages car dependence, spreads cities outward, and consumes space that could otherwise be housing, green areas, or public gathering places. Latin American planners made their own fateful choices in the mid-20th century, often importing U.S. models wholesale. Ring roads promised efficiency but instead encouraged sprawl and car dependency. Wide avenues privileged vehicles over people. The results are visible today: congested streets, fractured neighborhoods, and sidewalks that are at best an afterthought.

If you want to see inequality in action, look down. In Mérida, homeowners are legally responsible for repairing the sidewalks in front of their homes. Some keep them pristine; others patch them haphazardly; many leave them cracked or impassable. The result is a fragmented patchwork where a simple walk can become an obstacle course — especially for older adults, parents with strollers, or anyone with limited mobility. This isn’t unique to Mexico. As of 2025, an estimated 40% of Denver’s sidewalks don’t meet disability standards. Imagine the percentage in Mérida, or Mexico City, or countless other Latin American cities. Sidewalks are one of the cheapest forms of infrastructure, yet they remain chronically neglected. And when they fail, people are forced into the streets, where they compete with cars for space — often at deadly risk.

There are moments, though, when cities reclaim their streets. Mexico City closes its central avenues every Sunday for Muévete en Bici, a weekly ciclovía that draws hundreds of thousands of residents. Mérida’s own biciruta just turned 18, filling Paseo de Montejo with families, food vendors, and cyclists. These events prove what many urbanists argue: when given the chance, people flock to car-free streets. But a weekly celebration is not enough. Mobility justice requires more than symbolic gestures. It demands permanent infrastructure — wide sidewalks, continuous bike lanes, affordable public transit — that redistributes space every day, not just on Sundays.

The stakes are high because mobility is equity. A student who cannot safely bike or bus to school is at a disadvantage before class even begins. A worker who spends two hours each way commuting from the periphery of a sprawling city loses time, money, and energy that wealthier residents keep. A wheelchair user navigating broken sidewalks experiences exclusion in its most literal form. When mobility fails, equity fails. And when equity fails, democracy weakens. Cities that prioritize cars over people send a clear message: some lives are worth more than others.

What would it mean to take mobility justice seriously? It would mean funding sidewalks before highways, expanding bike networks before widening roads, and ensuring transit is not just available but affordable. It would mean rethinking parking minimums, as Mexico City did when it adopted the policy “Menos cajones, más ciudad” — “Less parking, more city.” It would also mean reframing mobility as a public right, not a private luxury. Just as we accept that education or clean water are collective responsibilities, so too should we see movement as essential to participation in civic life.

The challenges of Latin American cities echo those of the United States, though the contexts differ. In both regions, mobility reflects deep inequalities. In the U.S., suburban sprawl and underfunded transit trap low-income residents in cycles of car dependency. In Latin America, weak regulations and uneven infrastructure create dangerous and fragmented mobility systems. But solutions can also travel. Latin American ciclovías inspired similar programs in U.S. cities. U.S. disability rights movements have pushed for stronger accessibility standards that could inform Latin American reforms. The question is whether policymakers are willing to learn across borders, or whether they will remain locked in car-centric paradigms.

Every broken sidewalk, every missing curb cut, every unprotected bike lane is a policy choice. It is easy to think of infrastructure as background noise, the stage on which life unfolds. But it is more accurate to think of it as the script. It determines who appears on stage, who gets a speaking role, and who is silenced altogether. Mobility justice is not just about concrete and asphalt. It is about belonging. It is about recognizing that the freedom to move is inseparable from the freedom to live fully in one’s city.

That day in the bike lane, I stepped aside to let the wheelchair user pass. It was a small moment, but it underscored a larger truth: individuals can yield, but only cities can ensure safe passage. Until we design infrastructure with justice in mind, vulnerable people will keep being forced into dangerous spaces. Mobility justice means asking, over and over again: who gets to move, and who doesn’t? Until the answer is “everyone,” our sidewalks, streets, and cities will remain unfinished.

Boutique Imperialism: Desire and U.S. Power in Guatemala

It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.

Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.

Adoption as Global Policy and Market

It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.

Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.

Cultural Diplomacy in a Fractured Hemisphere

It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.

Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.