Sharing my thoughts on the experience of being a student on a university campus. To see my full feelings about the environment UCLA students are currently experiencing please read more here.
tamika has been an author of several reports, download them all here.
tamika l. butler and Hana Creger. (Forthcoming 2024). Beyond Engagement: Equity Principles to Guide State Department of Transportation and Community Collaboration.
Fehr & Peers, Cityworks Design, Strategic Economics, tamika l. butler consulting, and Atlas Planning Solutions. (2024). LA Metro. Measure M Five-Year Comprehensive Assessment and Equity Report 2023.
UCLA Institute of Transportation Studies, & UCLA Sustainable LA Grand Challenge. (2023). TRACtion: Transformative Transportation Working Groups Synthesis. UCLA: Institute of Transportation Studies. http://dx.doi.org/10.17610/T6V890 Retrieved from https://escholarship.org/uc/item/5qh6v56x
Madeline Brozen, Silvia R. González, and tamika l. butler. METRANS Transportation Center (Calif.), & Pacific Southwest Region 9 UTC, U. of S. C. (2022). Measuring Equity in Public Transit Service: LA Metro and the Post-Decree Era (PSR-21-51TO054). https://rosap.ntl.bts.gov/view/dot/67539
tamika l. butler and Naomi Iwasaki (2021). Addressing Inequities in Our Streets: Community Partnerships Leading Recovery and Planning.
tamika l. butler, Naomi Iwasaki, Scott Frazier, Midori Valdivia, and Kimberly Ming Ford. (2021). Metrolink. Accessibility and Affordability Study.
ACT-LA, A. C. L. U. of Southern California, CoDesign at Harvard Graduate School of Design, Public Counsel—Statewide Education Rights Project, and tamika l. butler consulting. (2021). Metro as a Sanctuary: Reimagining Safety on Public Transit.
A lot has been happening at Stanford Law School. There have been calls to fire administrators. That’s not the Stanford Law School I know and love. That’s not the type of just society my mentors at Stanford taught me to advocate for during my three years there. I hope it’s not the Stanford Law School that now exists. I hope it’s not the unjust society that now exists.
I shared my thoughts here…
It's been awhile since I posted here. But it's been a tough few days. We lost Angela Lansbury and beyond that a lot has been happening in LA. For our city. For my family. Got a few mins? I shared my thoughts here.
As we passed the anniversary of George Floyd’s death, I couldn’t help but wonder if Black Lives still matter to people who bike and the bicycle industry. Last year, I saw all sectors of our cycling world splash social media with images of Floyd’s face, black boxes, and hashtags, as they desperately tried to pander to my beautiful Black existence.
These companies, clubs, and advocates pledged to change their normal course of business, be more inclusive, and center the experiences of Black people who bike. As I as saw these promises stacking up, I wondered what would happen in the bicycling world.
In October, not quite a half year since Floyd’s death, the first hints of a change in bicycling came as the summer’s pandemic-induced bicycling boom continued to grow. Bicycle advocates saw a moment to make their work more impactful and help new converts to bicycling understand the importance of advocacy for safe streets. What remained unclear is whether this shift would center race.
Within this context of change and uncertainty Bicycling published an article titled “How Bike Advocates Are Eyeing Safer Streets for All.” The article’s headline indicated that this moment in history caused bike advocates to change and start focusing on seeking traffic solutions that did not involve police.
To read the full essay visit Bicycling Magazine…
November 8, 2016
Donald Trump was elected by our electoral college system. Many people will mark that as a day in history when everything changed. My wife and I got the alerts on our phones that he was likely to win as we were walking to the celebration party for the brand-new Senator Kamala Harris. We were so excited about voting for her, her campaign, and her political future and we somehow lost all of that as it begun to sink in that Trump won. Despite telling anyone who would listen that I was sure he would win, it still hurt. It didn’t surprise me that white people chose whiteness over reason and, in many cases, their own self-interest, but it still hurt. At the time, I struggled with the anger and fear of knowing that it was a historic day when things would change — but also a day where so much would stay the same. I remember talking to my white wife as she panicked through tears and lamented this state- and voter-sanctioned acceptance of white supremacy and racism at a level never before seen in this country.
I did not shed a tear; I just calmly added an addendum to those thoughts of despair: never before seen or believed or accepted — by white people and people who treasured their proximity to whiteness and power more than listening to the Black people, Muslim people, people with disabilities, queer people, immigrants, women, and other oppressed groups of people who have been living our whole lives knowing all too well what this country is built upon.
I went to bed that night struggling to fully catch my breath. I knew the next four years would be full of anxiety, tense anticipation of what could come next, and unfiltered hate. I wanted to do my breathing exercises, calm down, and be wrong about it all. But I knew I wasn’t. I will never forget the panic attack I had that night — like many nights since — I just could not breathe.
Read the rest on Medium…
Our public transportation systems were built on a foundation of racism, and the only way to truly fix them may be to raze them and rebuild from the ground up.
This is the moment we hoped wasn’t coming. This is the moment we knew was coming. This is the moment that never really left.
For months I’ve been present on panel after webinar after phone call after socially distanced hangout with people optimistically asking if this time it was different. Breonna is trending and on the cover of a magazine. George Floyd’s face and name are etched into the thoughts and prayers of everyone you know.
Your favorite company and your least favorite company have both released statements saying they care for their Black employees, they care for the Black community, are hiring a new diversity Black, and that they care about Black Lives. Shit, we even have a Blasian woman reppin a Divine Nine sorority trailblazing a path to the White House.
Many people wanted to believe this time was different. Many people wanted to believe we reached a tipping point. I have had countless Black colleagues exclaim that FINALLY, white people had seen what it is to be Black in this country.
Did they? Did it matter?
I’ll tell you what I think on Medium…
I previously shared my short essay written for Bicycling Magazine titled: “Why We Must Talk About Race When We Talk About Bikes: Systemic Racism Can’t Be Fixed Without Tackling It Within Cycling.” After sharing the article on social media, I was harassed by many readers who told me that racism has no place in bicycling. The comments and hate sent my way were nothing new. Talking about racism in transportation has personally impacted me in many ways from lost jobs, to threats, to many tears from people telling me I’m racist or mean for wanting to talk about such “distracting” issues.
But I and many others, including leadership at Bicycling magazine, refused to be bullied. The article, which was shared broadly, also generated many positive comments. Many people reached out to me to share that they had never thought about racism in the context of bicycling.
Knowing that so many people who reached out wanted to know more, hear more, and see more beautiful black joyful folks on bikes, I served as the guest editor of this month’s issue of Bicycling. I was raised by Black women who always taught me that part of my joy, liberation, and success will always be tied to how I treat and share my blessings with others. In that practice, I’m happy to share this issue with so many incredibly important Black stories from brilliant Black people—some you’ve heard of and many more you may not have heard of, but should know. There was a long list of more people I wanted to include and there are more stories to share. There is more to come. I remain committed to sharing my platform whenever I have the chance. I hope you read these important pieces, talk about them, and do something. The time to act is now.
The reality is that, if you weren’t thinking about racism before, that was a choice you were making. I invite you to make the choice to think about racism and anti-Blackness in all you do. What are you doing to fight racism and anti-Blackness? What are you doing to make sure that you are no longer a bystander in the important work of dismantling racism, colonialism, and white supremacy? What are you doing to push yourself, our policies, our decision-makers, and our institutions to atone for past harm and move towards action and true systemic change?
I’m confident that you will find this issue inspiring. I’m excited for you to see it in print, but until then check out all of the impactful stories here.
Erin Kerrison, a scholar in the school of social welfare at UC Berkeley, noted in the Sacramento Bee how the default setting for public space is frequently white. “They imagine what is theirs, their streets, their grocery stores, their sidewalks, and what they claim is theirs against a Black threat.”
So how to build a city that is more equitable? One in which public space can be accessed by African Americans without threat or fear? The Times spoke with nine architects, planners and advocates for their ideas.
Read the rest of the Los Angeles Times story by Carolina A. Miranda here.
“Tamika has helped us take important steps on the journey to a more just society and company,” said Jennifer Toole, President of Toole Design. “She leaves us better equipped to address the profound inequities in our society that the pandemic and Black Lives Matter movement have exposed in recent months. She has helped shape the culture of Toole Design through company-wide training, numerous projects across the U.S. and Canada focused on equity, extensive writing and public speaking, and countless one-on-one conversations with staff. Throughout, she has worked with staff and our Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) Task Force to increase our capacity and ability to continue this work.”
Nat Gale, Toole Design’s Los Angeles office director, praised Tamika’s “immeasurably wide and incredibly deep influence on planning in California,” during her time at Toole Design. “From consulting on statewide efforts to unify transit payments to honing a nuanced understanding of micro-mobility policy for municipal strategic plans,” Gale continued, “her influence will span from planning through implementation. Planning is the first step towards system and culture change, and her impact will be felt for years to come.”
Reflecting on her time with the company, Tamika noted that “we’ve seen the company step up to become a national leader on DEI issues, we’ve seen changes in internal training and practices, and I know from my many conversations across the firm, that there has been deep personal reflection and change on the individual level. Beyond that, I’ve been honored to be an integral part in growing our Los Angeles office and expanding our CA planning practice. I’ve enjoyed using the Toole Design megaphone. Now, it’s time for me to find and amplify my own voice.”
In a message to Toole Design staff, Jennifer Toole closed by saying “Tamika, you have improved our understanding of the roles we can play as a company and as individuals to tackle racism in all its forms. We wish you the best. We will be out there doing this work with you, and cheering you on.”
If you wish to contact Tamika, you can visit www.tamikabutler.com.
As a Black person in this country, I could never have talked about bikes without also talking about race. That hasn’t changed. As the world is being ravaged by not one, but two deadly diseases—the coronavirus and anti-Black racism—that are taking Black lives and making it nearly impossible for my people to breathe, the racial inequities I was compelled to speak on then are still present. To truly make transformational change for all people who bike, we must go beyond a “Bike Month” or an occasional unity ride. We also must get beyond the narrative that only people who (too often self-righteously) make a lifestyle decision to bike are worthy of our targeted marketing campaigns, advocacy, and celebration. We must get past a strategy that assumes cisgender white maleness as the norm. We must get past an ethos of exclusion. Once we can get past these things as a bicycle community, we can finally celebrate what bicycling should truly be about—the power to be free and move freely.
I carried this opinion into every room, every speech, and every action I took as the Executive Director of LACBC. This made me unpopular with some members of the bike coalition, some board members, and some people outside of LA who complained that I was not talking enough about bikes. This made me the target of a racist LA City Council candidate and his supporters. These supporters believed they could look past his being outed as harboring racist and transphobic views if he could get them a bike lane. To them, their white lives mattered more than anyone else’s.
Talking about things like gender, queerness, race, and white supremacy scares people. It makes them uncomfortable. Their resulting defensiveness makes them question your intelligence. Especially if being anti-racist means giving up their bike lane. Unfortunately, it rarely makes these same people dig deep and push beyond those questions towards understanding, compassion, being anti-racist, and confronting their own need to change. Because of that, I became used to the hate I received in various venues and formats.
See the rest published by Bicycling Magazine here…
Silence is no longer acceptable.
This morning, our country is waking up to images that are being described by some as thugs looting and setting things on fire. That is not what we see. We see streets and public spaces being claimed and used for and by people who have suffered for too long under systems of systemic racism and white supremacy. We see an uprising. We see calls for action. We see people who simply cannot stand by silently wishing for peace when they are all too aware of the absence of justice.
Awareness is no longer enough.
Simply being aware of the insidious ways that racism pervades every aspect of our society—including transportation—and saying that equity is important in the work can no longer move us forward. We can no longer ignore that when black people claim public space they are described as a threat, but other people are described as simply exhibiting their rights. We can no longer ignore that everyone living in this country is inhabiting stolen land that was looted and built up for free by enslaved labor. This is the context of our work and ignoring it means that we cannot create the transportation systems and public spaces that are truly for all people.
It is not the responsibility of black people, indigenous people, or people of color to fix this problem.
At Toole Design, we stand with the communities across the nation who are grieving, angry, and exhausted due to the murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, Tony McDade, and the far too long list of black people killed by police. It is especially heartbreaking that police violence against Black and brown communities continues unabated while those communities are suffering disproportionately from COVID-19. We also know that many people of color, particularly women of color, have been fighting to change our industry for the better. They do this with patience, compassion, and empathy and as a service to the rest of us—but it should not be their job alone. We must listen, we must elevate voices, we must change.
Read the rest here…
I started writing something, because that’s what I do. But this time healing through words didn’t work. In fact, it hasn’t in a while. This time I just couldn’t do it. Nothing was coming.
I’m just so tired. Every single time I sat down the same thing kept coming out: Stop Killing Us.
I’ve been on texts and calls with black friends all day and it’s been the same. We’re scared. For our families. For ourselves. For our people. We’re exhausted. For our families. For ourselves. For our people.
We can’t stop thinking about this and move on like nothing has happened or just go on with our regular daily tasks. Some folks are talking and posting about this nonstop — and honestly, I don’t want to see people posting their run on social media or going on and on about bird watching and how a birdwatcher would clearly be an okay black person (I’m actually an avid birdwatcher and a pretty great person though), or resharing videos reaffirming the entertainment value of black death. I also don’t want people just playing the part they think they should play by day and being Becky or Karen by night. It feels like everyone wants to tweet or post something because it’s becoming part of some performance or show where people play the part of outraged bystander or virtuous savior or blue checkmark clout-chaser.
What I want is for people to actually start being about what they say they about.
Read the rest on Medium…
After a little over 200 episodes, I finally made it on the ZAG. Loved talking #SlowStreets and Hawaiian shirts. Check it out: https://soundcloud.com/thezagpodcast/episode-230-w-tamika-butler
Is the year lost? Does it matter? Does anything even matter? I’m sure you’ve been involved in conversations with people asking these same questions lately. There are so many people describing 2020 as a year lost. Plans canceled, time shifting, events postponed. There are still many others seeing this is an opportunity to push through ideas and projects without having to ask permission or listen to objections.
My hope is that for everyone, this is a time to think about the systems in place that rely on racism, oppression, and white supremacy to keep us apart. I hope we all allow ourselves the space to let out some screams.
You may be thinking about a lost year, but for so many Black people in this country, the year doesn’t matter…we’re always thinking of lives lost. We are always aware of what lives don’t matter. Ours. The news of more Black lives lost has been weighing heavy on my heart and raging deep in my soul.
I wrote this to share those feelings. I wrote this for my son. My son who loves to run.
You Better Run, Boy
Blackness is your crime
Whiteness is the judge
The witnesses?
A list of traumas, pains, and sorrows
A list too long
Full of names that never got to see today
A few: Sean, Ahmaud, Sandra, Trayvon, Emmett
All bear witness
You better run, Boy
Outrun their fear
See the full piece on Medium…
I invite all transportation professionals wondering how to think about equity — and those trying to ignore equity — to think about this framework, integrate it into your work, and make yourself realize that the time to do what’s right, just, and equitable is always right now. That’s why this framework, written over a year ago, is still perfectly apt today. When health and urban planning professionals from all over the world got together in 2018, we never could have imagined the moment we find ourselves in today. But we certainly imagined a moment where we’d be told that equity was too hard, or that it was the wrong time. That’s why our focus went deeper to power and privilege. I invite you to read our statement on why and how to interrogate power and analyze privilege as you do your work.
This is a call to action. It’s aligned with the calls of action by others in the mobility justice space (like here, here, here and here). Are you going to answer the call or keep saying that equity in transportation is work for another day and for someone else — often BIPOC people?
Read the full blog and power and privilege framework on Medium
This is really hard. Not just trying-to-think-of-the-last-time-a-whole episode-of-Saturday-Night-Live-was-good hard. Not just trying-to-remember-the-last-time-a-Drake-song-was-fire-except-as-a-viral-Tik-Tok-dance-craze hard. Not just trying-to-have-just-one-more-bite-and-then-realizing-you-ate-all-the-damn-ice-cream hard.
It’s a whole different kind of hard.
Read the rest on Medium.
As our current public health pandemic has unfolded, I’ve been thinking about my grandmother. She’s the rock and backbone of our family. She was born and raised in Charleston, SC and grew up amidst the ugly racism of the segregated South. She’s one of the strongest people I know, and in times of crisis, she’s often someone I go to for advice and comfort. Whenever I go to her for advice, she always tells me, “I’ve seen a lot, it’ll be okay. Just remember, these times show you the ugly in people, but don’t let these times show the ugly in you. Do what’s right. Be kind.”
This feels like one of those times where I’d go to her for advice. If you’re like me, it might feel like every time you look away—even momentarily—by the time you look back, everything has changed and gotten worse.
As the public health and news updates keep popping up on my phone, I’ve been thinking about how’s she doing back home in Omaha. This woman, who is so strong and has overcome so much, means everything to me. She has taken care of me and protected me, and now I want to do the same for her. She’s a cancer survivor, has several health issues, and is one of the people with underlying health concerns that we keep hearing about. In fact, many of the people in my family fall into that category. And as someone who is “young and healthy,” I’ve found myself realizing that everything going on isn’t just about me, my fears, or my ability to overcome it. It’s about having a concern and consciousness for the community that I’m in and doing my part, for the greater good.
Read the rest on the Toole Design website here.
Imma let you get back to your victory lap, Joe…but hear me out for a second. I’m going to vote for whoever gets this Dem nom because as a genderqueer black woman raising a black boy and in deep community with BIPOC folx — my life & the lives of those I love most depend on it.
Read the rest on Medium…