Why WANDA

Written by Mike George

Those living or working in downtown Columbus may have seen me walking with my trusty companion WANDA. Often mistaken for a tiki torch, WANDA is a 6-foot-long musical baton that is capped on each end with wireless speakers donned with LED lights and reflective material. While it allows me to enjoy my music along the commute, most importantly, it serves as a means to improve my safety while on the streets by maximizing my visibility to nearby drivers, especially at night and in low-visibility conditions.

WANDA = Wireless Audio Nighttime Dance Assistant

I created WANDA as a means to maximize my visibility to nearby vehicles when walking the streets, particularly in areas devoid of sidewalks and in areas where pedestrians aren’t typically encountered. Borrowing from the safety culture of the electrical/ construction industry in which I work, the idea is to be seen by operators of the heavy machinery working alongside me, well prior to any opportunity for collision to occur. The need to be easily seen grows more imperative when on today’s roads, where the attentiveness of the average driver falls far short of that of a skilled construction worker, and that’s not even accounting for the distraction of the cell phone that is likely to be in their hand.

In addition to providing entertainment and visibility, it’s great for carrying groceries and other items while on the road, minimizing strain on your body, while providing a natural and effective means of regular exercise that precludes the need for an expensive (and oft seldom used) gym membership. Altogether, WANDA not only helps me stand out among surrounding drivers to avoid running into me, but it also sustains an immersive, magical experience filled with joy, expression, and my eclectic collection of music.

Growing up in Ohio is to unwittingly live in a culture centered around the automobile, along with the trappings of an urban environment and culture built around it - the isolation of sprawling suburbs and office parks disconnected from one another by design, the stigma towards those without a car, and the lack of reasonable transit options to reach most destinations. Having traveled around the US and abroad, it doesn’t take long after returning home to notice the glaring dearth of options for pedestrians and non-motorists - most shameful being the tourists and business travelers who come to visit a city and immediately resort to renting a vehicle when arriving at the airport.

What began as a family luxury, the automobile is nowadays an essential asset for one who wants to live comfortably as a middle-class American with access to work, friends, healthcare, groceries, and a decent social life. The culture of car dependency became clear to me in 2006, when President George W. Bush (of all people!) declared in his State of the Union address that “America is addicted to oil.” The infrastructure we’ve built to feed this addiction comprises billion-dollar expressways slicing across downtowns checkered with acre upon acre of prime real-estate occupied by asphalt, bunkeresque garages, and potholes.

This car-centric infrastructure regards us pedestrians as a pesky safety hazard, a nuisance obstructing the flow of traffic for the cars and their god-given right to treat our streets as their personal racetrack. For decades, pedestrians were treated as second-class citizens - marginalized even in a literal sense by city planners and transport engineers who didn’t think a sidewalk necessary for folks walking along the shoulder of a road, inches away from an endless chain of 5,000-pound chassis careening by at 50 miles per hour.

I carry WANDA with me on my commutes in order to ensure I’d be seen on the streets - to remind not only drivers that we exist and deserve to feel safe on our streets, but also to register this with our political leaders. All too often, we are told that nobody’s going to use the sidewalks once they’re built - that we are wasting taxpayer dollars on fancy, impractical “bridges to nowhere” - a “boondoggle”

I walk and commute via transit to call their bluff. It’s moments like this that I remind myself that simply existing - and being seen - is at times the greatest political act that one can do.

I am tired of the excuses of why we can’t overcome America’s addiction to oil and automobiles. I’m frustrated by my generation’s acquiescence to the same indulgent and consumption-driven routine as our parents during the heyday of Big Oil and Motor City, despite nature’s calamitous warning signs growing precipitously louder.

I am tired of the absurd number of times in which I meet someone who’s been struck by a vehicle in Columbus. I am tired of reading in the local paper this week’s pedestrian fatality - most often, a low-income Black person simply trying to cross the street. Most galling of all is how, long after the driver speeds away unidentified and scot-free, the victim will often get blamed for the incident - as if it was their fault for having the audacity to “jaywalk” across a road despite its lack of anything resembling a sidewalk, crosswalk, or “walk” signal. I’m tired of the condescending assumptions associated with the choice not to own a vehicle.

Amidst these frustrations, however, are glimmers of hope. I recently lived in Alexandria, Louisiana, for my last job assignment for a central Louisiana utility. After creating WANDA and walking around town regularly with it, I noticed something. It really seemed to me like I was seeing more people walking to get around. After a few months of this routine, a construction project emerges to build sidewalks along a main thoroughfare connecting the mall and downtown. Was it my daily gallavants with WANDA that caused this? Who knows…?

“Speak softly, and carry a big stick.” - US President Theodore Roosevelt

Over time, WANDA has evolved for me into a sort of political creed - a firm rejection of our nation’s stubborn addiction to its cars. My way to instigate a change in our culture that prioritizes pedestrian safety and improves access for residents to more parts of their city. It’s my way to unplug from the victimhood mentality and resentment culture that nowadays colors the political discourse among the armchair activists posturing as “revolutionaries.”

I’m tired of waiting for solutions that seem to never come through. WANDA helps keep me safe on the street, makes my commute feel quicker and fun, and empowers me to walk with confidence. And she reminds me that the quest for a safer, more vibrant city starts with us.