Imagine this: you bike to a convenience store for a quick snack or drink heading home from work. You’re told to leave your bag (with your laptop inside) at the front. There’s no secure bike rack. The merchandise you want is locked behind plexiglass or secured with a chain lock – only the clerk can unlock it (While leaving your laptop at the front). The restroom is off-limits. These daily annoyances for cyclists and pedestrians aren’t accidents — they are symptoms of a larger problem: fear-based design that erodes public trust and makes urban living more difficult. In cities across America, and right here in Albuquerque, urban life is being shaped by policies that prioritize suspicion over hospitality.
Businesses, large and small, lock away basic items, require multi-step checkout processes, and implement restrictive bag policies. Public bathrooms are scarce or inaccessible. Seating is lacking or non-existent. Combined with weak bike infrastructure and a lack of convenient public amenities, these decisions discourage walking, biking, and transit use.
The Architecture of Distrust
Urban thinkers and writers have long described the “architecture of distrust”: benches you can’t lie on, spikes on flat surfaces, and public spaces designed to discourage loitering. CityLab and The Atlantic have reported extensively on how these measures make shopping frustrating and inefficient for everyone, not just those suspected of theft. Many urban thinkers and writers have noted that hostile architecture doesn’t just harm the homeless — it erodes trust and comfort for everyone, sending the message that public space is meant to control, not to welcome.
Charles Marohn of Strong Towns often writes about how short-term, reactive thinking undermines long-term community health and financial stability. The same mindset shows up in retail and public policies that prioritize control and exclusion over trust, accessibility, and neighborhood resilience.
Fear-Based Design Comes from Real Concerns — But It Backfires
Business owners in Downtown Albuquerque face real challenges: property crime, shoplifting, vandalism, and a lack of consistent foot traffic. It’s no surprise that many call for more security measures — more cameras, more patrols, more visible police presence. To a certain extent, these can help. But when safety responses tip into excess, they become part of the same hostile landscape that makes urban life feel brittle and uninviting.
In a neighborhood where sidewalks often feel empty and storefronts struggle to stay open, the instinct is to double down on control: tighter bag policies, locked merchandise, restrictive hours, and heavy surveillance. But these reactive measures only make things worse.
Instead of inviting people in, these policies push people away. They make shopping, biking, walking, and simply existing in public feel like an ordeal. For those who have the option, the choice is easy: drive elsewhere. Why spend time downtown when you can park easily at a suburban shopping center, shop without hassle, and feel welcome? Why leave the car at home and take ART or hop on the bike when everything tells us not to do that? The result is a self-fulfilling prophecy: fewer visitors, fewer spontaneous shoppers, and a downtown that feels hollowed out and unwelcoming. The people who remain — those living car-free or trying to support downtown on foot or by bike — are the ones forced to navigate the daily frustrations, making urban living harder and less joyful than it should be.
Downtown Albuquerque’s Retail Struggles Are a Case Study Downtown Albuquerque has struggled for decades to retain retail and daily amenities. The last dedicated downtown convenience store — the kind of place you could grab a drink or snack without hopping in a car — closed long ago. Many storefronts remain vacant or cycle through short-lived tenants. Businesses that do open often shutter their doors by early evening, citing safety concerns. Those that remain frequently cater to office workers or eventgoers, not to residents who might walk or bike for errands. The pharmacy, brought in by the construction of the Imperial Building in 2017, left for Uptown, leaving the neighborhood without a much-needed service. Before it left, customers had to be buzzed into the building, often one at a time.
Instead of fostering a place where people linger, spend money, and feel part of a community, fear-based design ensures Downtown remains a place people pass through — not a place they stay. Each locked door, each closed bathroom, each missing bike rack or restrictive policy, tells people: You’re not trusted here.
The Cost to Urban Life
In a downtown designed around suspicion, it’s no surprise that more people choose to drive to a big-box store with free parking and predictable convenience. Why bike or take ART when every errand feels like running a gauntlet of locked doors, missing bike racks, and store policies that treat you like a threat? Why linger downtown when you can drive to a suburban Flying Star, park easily, and sit comfortably without feeling watched or rushed?
The irony is painful: every attempt to “protect” businesses from crime and disorder by locking things down pushes customers away, hollowing out the very streets and storefronts they’re trying to safeguard. The result is fewer pedestrians, fewer casual shoppers, and a downtown that feels emptier and more vulnerable — feeding the very cycle of decline that business owners fear.
The Impact on Car-Free and Car-Light Lifestyles
For those trying to live without a car — whether by necessity or choice — these policies become daily barriers to dignity and convenience. Cyclists need secure bike parking and the confidence that their belongings will still be there when they return. Pedestrians need public restrooms and places to refill a water bottle. Instead, they find locked bathrooms, store policies that forbid bags or backpacks, and shelves of everyday items secured behind plexiglass.
Silver Street Market, the only grocery option in the Downtown Core, is emblematic of the problem. Bag restrictions greet you at the door, security guards follow or stare you down, and a fortress-like atmosphere discourages spontaneous visits. Step off the ART bus on a hot afternoon and just try to grab a cold drink or a few groceries — the environment makes it feel like a chore, not a convenience. If you’re driving in for dinner or meeting friends at a brewery, the atmosphere barely registers; you’re prepared to sit down, spend time, and make larger purchases. But for someone running errands car-free, who needs to make quick, efficient stops between transit rides or bike trips, and often carry bags, backpacks, or their childrens’ supplies, these barriers are exhausting. Instead of feeling like downtown is part of your daily life, it feels off-limits unless you’re there to spend big or linger long.
For people with cars, this environment simply enforces driving: if downtown feels hostile and exhausting, why not drive to Target or Sprouts and enjoy smooth, frictionless transactions with no suspicion or hassle? But for those without a car, this is more than an inconvenience — it’s a constant struggle. Where do you use the restroom? How do you refill a bottle of water? If a Starbucks removes seating and expects you to take your order and go, why even stop in at all?
A Stark Contrast: Why Not Here?
It doesn’t have to be this way. Just look at Downtown Santa Fe, where public spaces feel vibrant, and businesses rarely lean on overt security theater. You don’t see locked-up merchandise or police patrols on every corner, yet the area feels safer and more inviting. Why? Because people are present, streets are active, and hospitality is prioritized over hostility. A newly-opened public restroom has become a celebrated feature of Downtown Santa Fe, inviting tourists and locals alike to linger. Vibrant urban life doesn’t come from fortresses — it comes from trust, openness, and places designed for people, not fear.
Designing for Positive Behavior
Urban design doesn’t only discourage behavior; it can also encourage the social and civic interactions we want to see. Parks with amenities like water fountains, pavilions, playgrounds, and cafes invite people to gather and connect. The Klyde Warren Park in Dallas is a great example: their team applies a “firm but fair” policy, asking all park users—regardless of appearance—to follow simple, respectful rules without hostile design. This approach shows that cities can create spaces that are inclusive and enjoyable, rather than exclusionary.
Human-centered design can limit unnecessary car access and prioritize people with flat, walkable paths, abundant benches, shaded areas, and accessible public bathrooms. The absence of seating — often removed out of fear of loitering or crime — doesn’t just harm the unhoused; it makes life more difficult for elderly residents, people with disabilities, parents with young children, and anyone navigating the city on foot or by transit who may need to pause and rest. As urbanist Roger Rosenberger notes, hostile architecture does not solve the root problem of homelessness—it simply displaces it. Instead, well-designed urban spaces can foster dignity, safety, and mutual respect.
Local Progress: A Glimmer of Hope
Albuquerque is beginning to recognize that trust and hospitality, not suspicion and over-policing, are the foundation of a healthy downtown. Former City Councilor Isaac Benton championed the installation of the “Portland Loo” public restroom in Old Town — a simple, durable amenity that signals openness rather than exclusion. Mayor Tim Keller has announced plans for at least two new public restrooms in the Downtown Core, and Councilor Nichole Rogers (District 6 – Nob Hill/International District) has voiced strong support for expanding public restroom access.
There are other bright spots, too. Downtown Albuquerque already benefits from progressive zoning: no parking minimums, flexible uses, and no height restrictions. In theory, the city has cleared the path for dense housing and vibrant mixed-use development. But in practice, perception of safety issues and a lack of vocal champions for major housing investments — like the shelved Downtowner project — have stalled momentum.
Small interventions have shown huge promise. The newly installed bike lanes along Central Avenue, though modest and only partially protected, have narrowed traffic lanes, calmed car speeds, and, anecdotally, made the street feel more alive. More people are walking and biking — proof that even simple, low-cost improvements can immediately reshape behavior and perception. If this small change has made a difference, it begs the question: Why aren’t we doing more?
City Councilor Baca (District 2 – Downtown) has also taken important steps. Councilor Baca’s newly passed vacancy ordinance promises to hold absentee property owners accountable, targeting the cycle of property neglect and speculation that drags downtown into disrepair.
But policy alone won’t build trust or a sense of place. That will come from doubling down on public amenities, designing for human comfort, and championing housing and small business investment with the same energy that’s so often devoted to enforcement and surveillance.
The Need to Activate the East Side of Downtown
A vibrant downtown needs strong anchors at both ends. Before the pandemic, Downtown Albuquerque’s east side was bookended by the Alvarado Transportation Center — a hub for ART, buses, Greyhound, Amtrak, and the Rail Runner — and across the street, a multi-screen cineplex that brought energy and foot traffic. Today, the west end of the core is beginning to rebound, thanks to new anchors like the Arrive Hotel and Ex Novo Brewery. But the east end feels stagnant and depressed.
The Alvarado Transportation Center remains one of the city’s most beautiful public spaces, paying tribute to the long-demolished train station and hotel that once stood there. But it’s a locked-down, underutilized landmark. Its beautiful waiting area is inaccessible. The café space sits empty. Service desks remain shuttered behind locked doors, and maintenance has fallen behind — bird droppings coat the elegant bus bays where commuters wait and transfer and Amtrak passengers are welcomed by holes in the ceiling leading to the pickup bay. Recently installed signage and wayfinding are a welcome step, and the ongoing project to raise the sidewalk to rail-level between EDo and the Downtown Core will help, but the station itself needs attention now. A true transit hub should pulse with activity: cafés, small restaurants, vendor kiosks, and services that welcome both residents and visitors. And sometimes, urban vitality is as simple as pressure-washing and unlocking doors.
Imagine an Alvarado with an open, welcoming waiting area. A café and small convenience store where commuters and visitors could sit, meet, and grab a cold drink between buses or trains. Clean, dignified public restrooms that serve not only transit users but cyclists and pedestrians making their way through Downtown. This wouldn’t just improve daily life for car-free and car-light people — it would anchor the entire downtown corridor. Add new housing to the mix, and you have exactly what cities like Albuquerque need: faces on the street, eyes on the street, and the everyday vibrancy that naturally fosters safety, comfort, and connection.
An activated Alvarado would send a signal beyond downtown — reinforcing both Downtown Pride and Albuquerque pride. It would show that we care for our public spaces and believe they deserve the same dignity and quality as the people who use them. Commuters wouldn’t just pass through; they would gather, connect, and support local businesses. Visitors would be greeted by a hub that reflects the heart of the city, not one that signals fear and abandonment. And residents — especially those living car-free — would finally have a space that feels built for them. We can look north to Denver’s Union Station revitalization if we need inspiration.
Across the street, the abandoned theatre — once a busy cineplex — is a glaring void. A post-pandemic attempt to convert it into a basketball-focused charter school gutted the building without delivering a new anchor. A school, quiet for much of the day and closed to the public, would have done little for street-level life. The question remains: can we bring back a theatre, or has streaming killed that model? If not, what can we imagine in its place? A public market, event venue, or creative community hub could fill the void. But it won’t happen in isolation. The city needs to bring stakeholders and innovators together — property owners, business leaders, transit agencies, and community members — to envision and build a vibrant east end of downtown that matches the energy beginning to return to the west.
A Call to Action: Reject Hostility, Reclaim Joy
We should not accept a downtown — or a city — that asks us to trade dignity, trust, convenience, community, and joy for the illusion of safety. We deserve public spaces that invite us in, not lock us out. Urban life should be vibrant, comfortable, and human-centered — not a series of exhausting transactions under suspicion and surveillance.
If we want to build a downtown that truly works for all — especially for those living car-free or car-light — we must reject fear-based design and demand places that reflect hospitality, care, and confidence in the people who live here.
That means:
- Investing in safe, abundant bike parking.
- Making public restrooms standard in business districts.
- Creating parks and public spaces designed for dignity and inclusion, paired with investments in housing and services that address challenges at their root.
- Encouraging businesses to adopt more trusting, customer-friendly policies.
- Designing streets and spaces that prioritize walking, biking, gathering, and spontaneous joy.
These are not luxuries — they are the foundation of a strong, resilient, and proud city.
Albuquerque has the bones to be that city. The question is: will we have the courage to stop doubling down on control and start building with trust and accountability?
If you’re frustrated by the daily micro-aggressions against urban life — the locked doors, the missing amenities, the barriers where there should be welcome — speak up. Support leaders who champion openness, hospitality, and abundance. Challenge businesses and institutions to do better. And most of all, refuse to accept discomfort, distrust, and scarcity as the price of safety.
We can build a downtown — and a city — that feels good to move through, live in, and love. But only if we believe we deserve it.
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Further Reading:
https://www.theurbanist.org/2023/12/11/urbanism-101-hostile-architecture/: Hostility Hurts Cities: How Fear-Based Design Undermines Urban Living in Albuquerque https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2024/jan/21/hostile-architecture-is-making-our-cities-even-less-welcoming: Hostility Hurts Cities: How Fear-Based Design Undermines Urban Living in Albuquerque https://time.com/7024810/design-damage-wellbeing-essay/: Hostility Hurts Cities: How Fear-Based Design Undermines Urban Living in Albuquerque
Reimagining Albuquerque 
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