What parenting a toddler and a newborn taught me about power and boundaries—and why California must protect communities from the shipping and warehousing economy.
My son was born when my daughter was three years old. In those early days, my role felt simple: protecting my new baby from the outside world. The neighbor’s dog was impossibly loud; the exhaust from an idling car, suddenly toxic. Even my daughter’s sweet, sticky fingers, terrifyingly germy. She was bigger and more powerful than my infant son. Her hugs were bear squeezes and kisses sometimes followed a sneeze. It was my job to keep him safe, and hers, as best she could, to love him by giving him space.
It occurred to me that the way a parent creates a safe space for their children mirrors how a state should balance economic growth with protecting local communities from its consequences. Across California, many communities, by no choice of their own, now live near large warehouses, busy freeways, and around-the-clock shipping and storage operations.
Over the past decade, the warehousing sector has expanded rapidly to meet the demands of direct-to-consumer businesses. Overnight shipping, whether for toothbrushes, computers, or playhouses, depends on a vast network of warehouses, ready at a moment’s notice to load goods onto delivery trucks. These hubs often overtake the communities around them, bringing diesel pollution, noise, and harsh lighting at all hours. Ironically, they are frequently located in the very communities least likely to benefit from major e-commerce retailers. And, according to research by Earthjustice, among those already facing disproportionate environmental and economic burdens.
In my own home, my son is the least exposed to the outside world; it is my daughter who brings in colds from preschool, microplastics in glittering art projects, and tiny button batteries in light-up party favors. All of it carries some risk. While she doesn’t understand germ theory, endocrine disruption, or choking hazards, she does understand that she is bigger and more capable.
In Southern California, more than 900 warehouses sit within 1,500 feet of schools, where children spend their days and often play outside. Researchers at the University of Southern California have found that breathing near-roadway air pollution from trucks and heavy traffic can have long-term consequences for children’s lungs, contributing to asthma and chronic disease. Warehouse operators may not track every development in environmental health science, but they do know they are larger, louder, and more powerful than the communities around them. When communities push back, they deserve State regulators to have their best interest in mind, helping to pass and enforce policy that supports the community.
California Assembly Bill 98 (AB 98) began to make progress, requiring new, large warehouses to create meaningful buffers between their operations and nearby homes, schools, hospitals, and parks. Without these buffers, diesel trucks idle through the night while neighborhoods absorb the exhaust and noise. Even a thick wall of trees can significantly reduce pollution. Like asking my daughter to sneeze into her elbow, it’s not perfect, but it makes a measurable difference.
But even as these protections moved into law, they were weakened by new, industry-friendly, follow-up legislation, including SB 415 and additional “wait and see” legislation. The details may be technical, but the pattern is not: a state passes legislation to protect communities, and then slowly, industry uses its power to reduce the impact.
Buffers address more than air pollution. Dense landscaping can reduce noise and soften the harsh light of round-the-clock operations. Practical measures, like creating setback zones, orienting loading areas away from neighborhoods, and reducing truck idling, can meaningfully reduce harm. It sounds simple. And it is. It’s just inconvenient for the owners and operators of the warehouses and shipping companies.
AB 98 re-routes freight traffic away from residential streets and toward major highways, while encouraging the adoption of cleaner technologies, including electric vehicles and charging stations. For nearby families, heavy traffic is constant. The noise and particulate pollution take a cumulative toll, especially on children, whose lungs and brains are still developing. Follow-up legislation, including SB 415, gives developers more time to comply with requirements and weakens enforcement, making it easier to delay or dilute the protections communities fought for.
Industry groups continue to argue that these measures are too costly. This is where government matters most: requiring those with power to protect those who are more vulnerable. We cannot let the bigger one become a bully, erasing the boundaries put in place to create space and protection. At times, both parents and policymakers must act as referees, setting rules, holding the line, and stepping in when those rules are tested.
Sometimes love looks like a hug. Sometimes it looks like a buffer zone. And sometimes, it looks like holding the line and refusing to let those with power erase it.
Comments
0 Comments deleted by Administrator