The Crossroads of Justice: Our Infrastructural History, Environmental Racism, and the Climate Fight

Author: Olivia Weninger

October 22, 2025

Interstate highways in Oakland, California. [Image source: Jason Doiy]

‘The interstate highway system stands as a material manifestation, a physical realization of our racialized norms and values.’ – Deborah Archer

Even in the age of “race-blindness”—the tendency to ignore race in social or legal assessments—environmental racism persists. Its roots trace back to the very creation of our cities and highways, where neighborhoods were often intentionally zoned to enforce segregation or resist desegregation laws. The historical foundation of the issue is that transportation infrastructure was used to create and isolate poor communities. Communities do not simply start with poor transit or accessibility but are rather excluded or purposefully made immobile by decisions they were not involved in.

Highways as a Political Tool

The passage of the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956 was effectively used as a political weapon to cater to those who wished to prolong segregation and hinder the progress of growing Black and brown communities. These highways, in their creation, were often deliberately routed through thriving communities of color, destroying homes, businesses, churches, schools, and overall social cohesion (Archer, 2020). In other communities, highways served as a physical boundary, keeping residents together, but separating them from transit, healthcare, and chances at economic mobility.

Part of the calculated “genius” in using highways to maintain segregation was that the impact of this exclusion could not simply be eradicated with the passing of new legislation. It could evade laws and be a near-permanent barrier with little option for correction (Archer, 2020). 

One of the biggest names behind this movement was Robert Moses, a city planner for New York City in the mid-1900s. He was one of the loudest advocates for the usage of the highway system to displace Black communities, and his ideas spread rapidly through the country. Moses built New York’s roads and highways specifically so poor people and people of color could not visit the parks and beaches he built. He argued that the purpose of new urban expressways was not for the connection of his constituents, but rather the purpose of “removing Black communities” that officials considered “undesirable” (Archer, 2020).

'Legislation can always be changed; it’s very hard to tear down a bridge once it’s up.' – Robert Moses

There are examples of this phenomenon in every state, both at the order and delegation of government officials, and simultaneously alongside and in response to the requests of White residents who feared integration. The Hill District of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, was a thriving Black community that was destroyed to build Interstate 579. This displaced thousands of Black residents and cut off the Hill District from Pittsburgh’s thriving downtown area (Archer, 2020). In Flint, Michigan, two historically Black communities were leveled to make room for a highway. Interstate 4 in Orlando was built to provide a structural barrier to separate Black residents from White residents. Similarly, the Los Angeles highway system was purposely constructed to segregate and isolate of Black and brown residents (Archer, 2020). In addition to physical separation from White communities, these highways were used to hinder the growth of communities of color. Interstate 95 tore through the center of the Overtown neighborhood in Miami, Florida, destroying a known economic and cultural hub for Black communities in Miami. In St. Paul, Minnesota, the Rondo neighborhood was a known haven for immigrants and people of color. Following a notable social and cultural boom in the area, including growth of the local NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People) chapter, a more relaxed social environment regarding interracial marriages, and high levels of education and literacy among minority residents, plans for the Federal Aid Highway Act of 1956 included the creation of a highway directly through this neighborhood (Alam, 2017), clearly targeting a successful community mainly inhabited by people of color. 

Map view of Interstate 579 separating Hill District from Downtown. [Image source: Google Maps]

Impacts of Zoning on Socioeconomic Activity

While the highway system is a very visible and effective manner of designing space to harm, neglect, or contain a group of choice, it is not the only manner in which design choices and ordinances disproportionately affect minority groups. For cities that had adopted racial zoning ordinances that required the legal separation of Black and White neighborhoods, those laws were soon replaced with roads and highways when previous racial zoning laws became unconstitutional (Archer, 2020).

The neighborhoods most affected by these political tactics were those already struggling with racial discrimination, inadequate schools, economic disinvestment, accessibility, and deteriorating property values (Archer, 2020). New construction and redevelopment projects that appeared to improve cities only further entrenched those challenges into these communities, effectively cementing segregation in housing and schools, and excluding low-income, inner-city residents from economic, educational, or social opportunities (Archer, 2020). The physical, psychological, and economic division of these neighborhoods from larger communities can still be witnessed in large cities around the country today. 

Location plays an integral part in one’s day-to-day activities, impacting the ability to go to work, the grocery store, school, church, local businesses, and more. While the highway system destroyed and uprooted hundreds of thousands of people in communities around the country, the same officials that ordered for the construction of those highways also underfunded infrastructure in the areas ruined by the highways. This meant that the only options for low-income residents to commute to jobs or shopping were inadequate and unreliable. Some neighborhood services had to be reduced, including subways, bus systems, commuter railways, public education, healthcare, museums, and other cultural offerings (Archer, 2020). The result was not only the displacement of groups of people, but the creation of a concentrated group of people trapped in an intricate web designed to disrupt their social fabric and keep them in states of poverty, allowing for little opportunity for advancement.

Transportation affects life both in daily scenarios and in less-frequent, emergency situations. At its core, transportation provides access to opportunity and can play a large part in addressing one’s poverty, unemployment, and opportunity goals (Rankin et al., 2015). A very noticeable recent example of a lack of transportation and service cuts is the Metropolitan Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority (MARTA) service in Atlanta. Recent cuts in this service noticeably affect largely African American riders, as MARTA must downsize to help balance its budget and revenue shortfall (Rankin et al., 2015). According to Rankin et al (2015), transportation problems such as “traffic congestion/gridlock, aging infrastructure, quality of life, unhealthy commutes, alternative transportation, transportation federal gas tax, reduced bus services, fare increases, decreased ridership, elimination of bus routes, extended wait times for the trains and buses, diesel buses, mechanical problems on the rail system and dependence on local sales taxes” are clear examples of transportation racism present in Atlanta. If MARTA continues to cut bus routes or raise fares, people in those communities may not be able to have access to their job, their children’s school, doctor’s appointments, etc. The continued inadequate funding of bus services, among other publicly available transportation services, can be prominently felt in those communities as they are further isolated from their physical and economic surroundings (Golub et al., 2013). 

Scenarios such as these can force someone into owning a car due to poor transit and lack of options. In these cases, people tend to drive older, less fuel-efficient vehicles due to limited funds and lack of availability, raising more issues such as maintenance fees and rising gas prices. In addition, higher usage of vehicles contributes further to the climate problem. This problem is cyclical in nature. Since the U.S. is largely car-centered, public transportation and infrastructure can be wildly underfunded, especially in areas deemed “least deserving” of public funds for means to commute (Archer, 2020).

These additional transit fees, along with the stifling of growing economic centers, creates a system in which few minority communities are allowed to grow financially and recover during times of economic hardship. As we attempt to transition to a greener economy as a planet, where will the jobs in services such as public transportation and solar installation be placed? They will most likely be in places inaccessible to the communities that require these services and jobs most, inherently continuing the cycle of poverty. 

Environmental Hazards

For over 60 years, researchers have been analyzing the distribution of numerous environmental hazards across demographics, including income and race. The overt conclusion is that environmental hazards, including garbage, air pollution, toxic waste disposal, lead poisoning, pesticide poisoning, occupational hazards, and rat bites, are overwhelmingly found inequitably in lower income or minority neighborhoods (Cole & Foster, 2001). Additionally, when studies looked at the distribution of environmental hazards by income versus race, race was typically the better predictor of exposure to the environmental hazards. Those who often live with the greatest environmental dangers, such as poor people and people of color, also have the least accessibility to healthcare (Cole & Foster, 2001).

Furthermore, the history of urban planning and environmental justice shows how environmental hazards were often weaponized. Across the board, poor people and people of color bear a much larger portion of pollution than rich or White people (Cole & Foster, 2001). There is an oft-cited example in Chester, Pennsylvania, a town with a vastly disproportionate number of waste facilities compared to towns around the country of the same size, substantiating claims of environmental racism (Cole & Foster, 2001). Chester, along with other former industrial towns across the country, is now primarily populated by low-income people of color after the historical flight of businesses and the middle-class White population from the area once it was no longer considered a thriving location full of economic opportunity.

After millions of minority residents were displaced following the construction of these roadways, discriminatory real estate and expulsive zoning made it virtually impossible for minority-dominant neighborhoods to reconstruct and start healing. These same zoning rules allowed heavy industry and waste facilities to move to African American neighborhoods, and banks refused to loan money for home improvement or maintenance (Cole & Foster, 2001). The typical advice used in waste industries is to choose neighborhoods that are “least likely to express opposition” (Cole & Foster, 2001). This undoubtedly refers to poorly educated residents who do not know that putting up a fight was a possibility or do not think winning legal battles was an option.

After Birmingham, Alabama adopted racial zoning ordinances that required the legal separation of neighborhoods, its Black neighborhoods were far more likely than its White counterparts to contain environmental hazards and house industrial facilities or be located near known flood zones (Archer, 2020). City planners then used the construction of Interstates 59 and 65 to ensure that White communities remained separated from these environmentally dangerous areas. In Atlanta, Georgia, similar racial zoning laws were used to enforce legal separation.

Furthermore, there is no greater example of environmental hazard inequity than Cancer Alley, an industrial corridor that follows the Mississippi River between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, Louisiana (Cole & Foster, 2001). Many industrial facilities moved to this region to use the river, and much of the population was glad to see economic opportunity come to their region. However, the new facilities did not employ any of the predominantly Black neighborhoods they surrounded but polluted their daily oxygen supply just the same. Even the construction of facilities meant to manage and improve quality of life had negative side effects; living next to a municipal wastewater treatment plant, along with many other common industrial plants, was found to decrease the oxygen saturation in one’s lungs, resulting in a lower quality of life due to health reasons (Vantarakis, 2016).

This was never a lack of planning or an unfortunate coincidence. It has always been an intentional choice, and moreover, a violation of the fundamental human right to a standard of living adequate for health and well-being, as it states in Article 25 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. This is the definition of environmental racism and does not align with the Environmental Justice Framework’s goal of ensuring “everyone has the right to live, work, learn, pray and play in a healthy and sustainable environment” (Rankin, 2015).

Alongside the daily increase in health risks, these communities are exposed to greater risks posed by climate change as well. Their inability to relocate from the neighborhood, termed ‘mobility justice’, makes the same people more vulnerable to disasters resulting from changes in climate (Cole & Foster, 2001). A lack of reliable transportation or being in a “transport desert” can become life-threatening during natural emergencies such as hurricanes, tornados, wildfires, and tsunamis. 

Transitioning Towards Inclusive Community Design

As we continue our steady journey towards a green future, it is important that we recognize our transportation and environmental past to create a more equitable future for everyone. Even our best attempts at solutions will backfire if decisions are not made with the voices of all affected communities. A new bike line or a beautiful green median is a public good funded by tax contributions. But what happens when these green changes make a historically disinvested neighborhood more attractive to wealthier, and often whiter, residents? This can drive up rent and property taxes, gentrifying the area and displacing the community that the changes were meant to serve. While these outcomes are not “intentional” in the narrow sense that they cannot be prosecuted in court, they are not accidental either (Golub et al., 2013). This phenomenon continues to add to the displacement and isolation of poor and minority communities nationwide. 

Another example of green transitions that have the potential to do more harm than good is congestion pricing regulation, which requires drivers to pay more to use roads during peak hours with the aim of reducing emissions and driving time. While this sounds like a beneficial rule for all, when coupled with living in a “transit desert” or recent cuts to frequently used public transportation, the brunt of the congestion pricing falls on those who are already economically disadvantaged, as they have no choice but to drive to their destinations. The purpose of public transport is to provide mobility for those who need it, but policies such as congestion pricing and service cuts often ignore this (Rankin, 2015). However, when designed with equity safeguards, congestion pricing has the potential to benefit low-income residents if the income received is then used to fund better public transit for those residents. 

Furthermore, mobility and climate are immensely interconnected and should be seen as such when discussing our fight towards a healthier space around us. New climate plans that don’t explicitly name and aim to repair the harm done by mobility injustice are acts of protection of privileged interest. As our highways and infrastructure are beginning to break down and new plans are being drawn up, we have a unique opportunity to bring attention to this matter and to do better this time around. The path forward requires a fundamental shift in our thinking. We must move from seeing transit as simply a service and view mobility as a human right instead.   

Equitable Solutions

The answer to environmental racism is not to stop the building of bike lanes or parks or to forgo new regulations which could help reduce emissions from transportation. Rather, we should implement these community improvements along with safeguards such as rent control, property tax freezes, local hiring requirements, and the assurance that revenue from congestion pricing will be funneled into the improvement of transit services in underserved areas. Investment in public transit, especially frequent, reliable bus services in the communities that have suffered the most from highway pollution and disinvestment is a key component. We have an opportunity to “redress the racially disproportionate impact of the interstate highway system” (Archer, 2020), and to make it a public norm to frame public transportation as a service that offers “easy accessibility, affordable rates, flexible schedules, and reduces pollution” (Rankin, 2015).

We need to implement racial equity in where it stands with environmental justice, focusing on repairing harm that was, at its root, an attempt to hinder progress for minority and low-income communities. Participation in the conversations that alter one’s day-to-day living and advocating for inclusive community co-design are crucial, and the exclusion of communities from these discussions is what allows the unequal distribution of benefits and burdens (Golub et al., 2013). Empowering residents to join in and co-design the transportation and green infrastructure in their own neighborhoods is an instrumental step in ensuring that meaning progress is made towards resolving the issues caused by historical inequity. Alongside the establishment of green policies and infrastructure, it is paramount that communities follow up with policies such as mandatory affordable housing and anti-displacement policies, acknowledging our past of concentrated poverty and hyper-racial segregation in housing and schools and working to ensure that communities remain healthy and thriving. 

True climate action doesn’t just look like a solar panel or an electric car. It looks like a grandmother who can safely walk to the grocery store, a student who can take a free and reliable bus to her library, and a city where the air is clean for everyone, regardless of their zip code. That is the only road that leads to a just and sustainable future. 

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Glossary

• Accessibility– The ease with which people can reach needed services, opportunities, and destinations such as jobs, schools, health care, and grocery stores.

• Cancer Alley – An 85-mile industrial corridor along the Mississippi River between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, Louisiana, densely packed with petro-chemical plants whose emissions have produced unusually high cancer rates in surrounding (predominantly Black) communities.

• Climate Action – Policies or practices designed to mitigate climate change and adapt to its effects; in a justice framework, these must also reduce existing social and environmental inequities.

• Co-design (Community Co-design) – An approach in which residents help shape projects or spaces from the outset rather than merely reacting to finished plans.

• Color-blindness / Race-blindness – The doctrine or practice of ignoring race in analysis and decision-making; often criticized for masking or perpetuating systemic racism.

• Congestion Pricing – A traffic-management policy that charges drivers more to use certain roads during peak hours to reduce congestion and emissions; can be regressive if transit alternatives are lacking.

• Displacement – The pressured removal of residents or businesses from their neighborhoods, commonly resulting from large infrastructure projects or rising costs.

• Environmental Hazards – Physical, chemical, or biological factors (e.g., toxic waste, polluted air, flood risk) that can harm human health or ecosystems.

• Environmental Justice – The principle that all people, regardless of race, ethnicity, or income, deserve equal protection from environmental harms and equal access to environmental benefits.

• Environmental Racism – Policies or practices that disproportionately expose people of color to environmental hazards or deny them environmental benefits.

• Expulsive Zoning – Land-use regulations that push polluting facilities into, or keep desirable investments out of, particular neighborhoods—often communities of color.

• Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956 – U.S. law that funded the Interstate Highway System; used to route highways through or around minority neighborhoods.

• Gentrification (Green or Conventional) – The influx of wealthier residents and capital into historically disinvested areas, raising property values and often displacing existing, usually lower-income, residents. “Green gentrification” is gentrification spurred by new parks, bike lanes, or other environmental upgrades.

• Green Infrastructure – Natural or semi-natural systems (e.g., parks, rain gardens, tree canopies) designed to provide environmental services such as storm-water management while enhancing urban livability.

• Highway Pollution – Air, noise, and soil contamination generated by high-volume roadways, disproportionately affecting adjacent communities.

• Interstate Highway System – The national network of limited-access highways built largely after 1956; its routing choices often reinforced racial and economic segregation.

• Mobility Justice – The idea that freedom of movement—daily and during emergencies—is a human right; examines how race, class, gender, and ability shape access to safe, affordable transportation.

• MARTA (Metropolitan Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority) – Atlanta’s main public transit agency; budget cuts and fare hikes have highlighted transportation inequities affecting Black riders.

• Race-based Zoning (Racial Zoning) – Early-twentieth-century municipal ordinances that legally separated housing by race; later declared unconstitutional but replaced by other segregation tools (e.g., highways).

• Redlining – The once-legal practice by banks and the federal government of denying mortgages or insurance in neighborhoods deemed “high risk,” largely Black or immigrant areas, entrenching disinvestment.

• Robert Moses – Influential New York City planner (1930s-1960s) who leveraged highways, bridges, and parks to segregate and displace Black and low-income communities; his model was emulated nationwide.

• Structural Barrier – A physical or policy-based obstacle—such as a highway, zoning law, or price tag—that systematically limits opportunity or mobility for a particular group.

• Suburbanization – The post-World-War-II movement of predominantly white, middle-class populations from central cities to outlying suburbs, often facilitated by highways and government subsidies.

• Transit Desert – An area where demand for public transportation greatly exceeds supply, leaving residents with few reliable mobility options.

• Transportation Racism – Policies or practices within transportation planning that create unequal burdens or benefits based on race, such as route siting, fare structures, or service cuts.

• White Flight – The mid-20th-century exodus of white residents from racially integrating urban neighborhoods to suburbs, accelerating urban disinvestment and segregation.

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Sources

1. Alam, Ehsan. “Before It Was Cut in Half by I-94, St. Paul’s Rondo Was a Thriving African-American Cultural Center.” MinnPost, 19 June 2017, www.minnpost.com/mnopedia/2017/06/it-was-cut-half-i-94-st-paul-s-rondo-was-thriving-african-american-cultural-center/.

2. Archer, Deborah N. “‘White Men’s Roads through Black Men’s Homes’: Advancing Racial Equity through Highway Reconstruction.” Vanderbilt Law Review, vol. 73, no. 5, 2020, pp. 1259–1330. Vanderbilt University Law School Scholarship, https://scholarship.law.vanderbilt.edu/vlr/vol73/iss5/1.

3. Cole, Luke W., and Sheila R. Foster. From the Ground Up: Environmental Racism and the Rise of the Environmental Justice Movement. New York University Press, 2001.

4. Golub, Aaron, Robert A. Marcantonio, and Thomas W. Sanchez. “Race, Space, and Struggles for Mobility: Transportation Impacts on African Americans in Oakland and the East Bay.” Urban Geography, vol. 34, no. 5, 2013, pp. 699–728. Taylor & Francis Online, https://doi.org/10.1080/02723638.2013.778598.

5. Hu, Lingqian, and Joe Grengs. “Disparities from Intersecting Effects: An Introduction to a Special Issue on Transportation and Environmental Racism.” Transportation Research Part D: Transport and Environment, vol. 114, Jan. 2023, p. 103559. Elsevier, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.trd.2022.103559.

6. Rankin, Nicolas R., et al. “MARTA Service Cuts in Hotlanta: Using the Regime Theory and the Environmental Justice Framework to Analyze Transportation Racism in Hotlanta.” Race, Gender & Class, vol. 22, no. 3–4, 2015, pp. 55–82. JSTOR, https://www.jstor.org/stable/26505350. 

7. Universal Declaration of Human Rights at 70: 30 Articles on 30 Articles - Article 25 | Ohchr, www.ohchr.org/en/press-releases/2018/12/universal-declaration-human-rights-70-30-articles-30-articles-article-25.

8. Vantarakis, A, et al. “Impact on the Quality of Life When Living Close to a Municipal Wastewater Treatment Plant.” Journal of Environmental and Public Health, U.S. National Library of Medicine, 2016, pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC4914737/#sec3.