Luca Johnson, Staff Writer
Oberlin is often referred to as a “bubble.” A liberal enclave, tucked away in rural Ohio, untouched by and antithetical to the Ohio countryside that surrounds it. And as a member of this community, it does often feel that way. When I walk around campus, I assume a sense of commonality with the people that I see. Many of us share similar political beliefs, values, and interests. We don’t talk or think much about the area that surrounds us, and the people who live there. Many of us don’t leave Oberlin very often, and if we do, we’re certainly not interacting much with anyone other than our Oberlin friends.
However, whether we realize it or not, many Ohioans from the surrounding area drive through Oberlin every day using main roads such as Main St., Professor St., and Lorain St. For many of us who don’t get out of Oberlin very often, passing interactions with these drivers are some of our only points of contact with the surrounding area. Some of these interactions reveal the divisions and differences we have with our surrounding neighbors that we try so hard to ignore.
One such interaction happened between a driver and me when I was rushing to a 9:00 AM class at King Hall one misty morning in late fall. I had darted through the dewy grass of Tappan Square and was waiting across the street from King to cross. To my surprise, I heard a booming voice come from a passing pickup truck yelling out, “Use the crosswalk, dumbass!” as it sped away. I muttered some profanities at the back of his truck before rushing across the street to make it to my class on time. As I sat in class, my mind raced to justify my own actions and vilify his. I hadn’t even crossed the street yet, I thought to myself. Walking to class is a time-sensitive operation. Going out of my way to use the crosswalk could cost precious minutes that might cause me to be late to class. Further, the inequality of the interaction bothered me, both in the sense that his reaction felt disproportionate to my (lack of) action, and that he was in a big car that overpowered me, speeding away without giving me a chance to respond.
I’ve since seen many such pedestrian-car interactions on campus. Many of these stem from the tendency for Oberlin students to jaywalk in order to get to class, and drivers’ disapproval of this behavior. These drivers seem genuinely baffled that someone could cross a road anywhere other than a crosswalk, or that someone could run across a street while the light is red. There's a particular kind of vitriol that comes from these drivers that seems to go beyond reason. It seems to be common practice for a car to speed up when a pedestrian is crossing far away, as if to intimidate them. There is hardly a culture of yielding to pedestrians attempting to cross the street in places without a crosswalk. Before a crosswalk was put in between the Science building and Wilder, crossing the street felt like fording a treacherous stream that was constantly honking at you. These behaviors make me feel especially embittered when I see a car stealing a left turn, or speeding unnecessarily.
The more of these interactions I’ve seen, the more I’ve tried to look at it from the driver’s perspective, to understand why they might react the way they do. The car dependency of the area ingrains an expectation that roads always be reserved for cars, and leaves less sympathy for the plight of the pedestrian. As a rural driver, I can imagine that the volume of pedestrian traffic in Oberlin could be a wholly abnormal sight. We walk around as if we own the place, and we prioritize our own will to get where we need to be over theirs. Regardless of this sense of entitlement, when a car is involved, we become physically beholden to it. In these interactions, dynamics of privilege and power are switched, and we are forced to curb our self centered behavior to accommodate a passing car.
Conversely, many Oberlin students come from urban areas where pedestrians have a bit more influence, and jaywalking is viewed with indifference. In more walkable areas, there is an understanding that a jaywalking pedestrian has made a calculation of how far away the oncoming car is, and how long it will take for them to cross the street to avoid a collision. Oberlin students who come from cities bring this attitude towards jaywalking to Oberlin’s campus, which, although on a smaller scale, is a very walkable community.
It’s possible, too, that these angry interactions are a microcosm of urban-rural divides. Oberlin students demographically stick out in this region in a variety of ways. Many of us come from urban areas, we are comparatively wealthier than the surrounding region, and the majority of us share liberal/leftist views. By nature of all being in college, we have comparatively more access to higher education than surrounding Ohioans. In other words, we have a lot of privilege as Oberlin students that is not shared by rural drivers passing through our campus. Perhaps our insistence on crossing the street with abandon fits into larger perceptions of our liberal entitlement.
And honestly, I do feel a certain sense of entitlement when I walk around campus. I feel entitled to move around campus freely and efficiently. When I walk around campus, I feel like it’s my turf – like this place was made for us. The roads that cut through Oberlin’s campus often feel simply like obstacles between point A and point B. I can certainly admit that I’ve been guilty of jaywalking somewhat recklessly. However, it is important to recognize that these roads don’t just belong to us, but to everyone who uses them. To drivers passing through on their commute, our campus is an inconvenient obstacle.
It’s important to take into consideration the difference in perspectives we as student pedestrians have towards jaywalking compared with rural drivers. Still, I feel that pedestrians should have more leverage when walking through campus, and that cars should more readily yield to pedestrians, even if a crosswalk is not present. I take issue with the idea that cars should, by default, have the right of way. We should be making efforts to increase pedestrian mobility, and fight against car dependency, especially in a walkable community such as Oberlin. However, it’s hard to imagine a pathway towards this, given the current understanding of pedestrian-car etiquette that is entrenched in this region.