“What we would like to do is change the world--make it a little simpler for people to feed, clothe, and shelter themselves as God intended them to do. And, by fighting for better conditions, by crying out unceasingly for the rights of the workers, the poor, of the destitute--the rights of the worthy and the unworthy poor, in other words--we can, to a certain extent, change the world; we can work for the oasis, the little cell of joy and peace in a harried world.” - Dorothy Day
A few weeks ago, some friends and I gathered to build benches. I was primarily irritated that my neighbors had nowhere to sit as they waited for the bus and inspired by the Berkley guerilla bus benches.
My friend designed the benches to be easy to build: just two different angle cuts, two different sized boards, and a handful of screws. I designed a couple of stencils on the backs of old cereal boxes and spray painted messages onto the benches.
You can download my friend’s design to do it yourself here:
The original intention was to put these at particularly bad bus stops, where people needed benches but the city had failed to provide them. We went the route of guerrilla urbanism (where we simply acted without anyone’s permission) rather than tactical urbanism (where we would have had to go through a long approval process) because we believed many of the bench sites would have been denied on a technicality.
And because they’re just benches. Public benches have existed as long as cities have. It should not be a big deal to get them installed, but regardless - it is.
Then, the City of Nashville removed benches along Korean Vets Boulevard, a busy street lined by benches in the shade. The only purpose was to make life harder and less comfortable for the homeless, at a time when the State of Tennessee has already essentially criminalized homelessness. This is bullshit.1
So one afternoon, I installed one of our benches along KVB. The real ones should never have been removed, and it’s a shame that now people have a single crappy bench to sit on instead of the perfectly nice ones that had been there for decades.
It was my attempt at restoring a little dignity to the citizens of this city, even the poorest among us. I imagine there are places in your own city that fail to recognize the inherent dignity of human beings; if a bench could speak to that, I encourage you to build your own.
Aristotle wrote that cities exist for eudaimonia - human flourishing or living well. But if a city turns its back on its own purpose and its own citizens, how should those citizens respond?
In a city concerned with the flourishing of its citizens, all people should be able to live with some measure of dignity. This should be true for all citizens - the workers, the poor, the destitute, the very old and the very young.
But when I look around my own city, I do not see a place that was built with human dignity in mind. I see my neighbors walking with their children through ditches on the side of the road, because we don’t have sidewalks. I see newcomers to this country cycling next to cars traveling at deadly speeds, because we haven’t built our city for those without cars. I see families standing in the dirt as they wait for the bus. I see my homeless neighbors leaning against buildings and sitting on the ground.
So, what is a person to do when her city has forgotten its most basic purpose? How do we respond to a hostile built environment?
I can’t pour concrete for a sidewalk or build a bike lane. But I do have access to some lumber and a drill, and some very kind and clever friends. So I can build a bench - and what could be more basic to human dignity than a place to sit?
Some people won’t like a pastor cursing, but I don’t like seeing my neighbors treated like unsightly trash instead of human beings. Martin Luther said that we ought to call a thing what it is, and this treatment of human beings is bullshit.
Wow, Robin—this hit me. Benches might seem small, but the way you describe them makes it clear they’re about more than sitting down. They’re about dignity, presence, and reminding the city what it means to care for its people. I love how you turned frustration into something tangible and communal.
Dorothy Day’s words fit perfectly—building a “little cell of joy and peace” with wood and screws feels like the kind of protest and hospitality Jesus would nod at. It’s a simple, stubborn kindness that resists a hostile built environment.
Thanks for sharing!!
Not speaking as a representative of my employer, blah, blah, but it is rich that the organizations whose negligence is responsible for the Main Library being shut down for the last 2.5 months, leaving unhoused people with no place to be downtown, are the same sons of the devil who removed these benches.