Every morning in a big Indian city, millions of people make a small decision that says a lot about who they are: walk to the bus stop, squeeze into a shared auto, book a cab, or drive. That choice is rarely just about convenience. It says something about income, gender, safety, and how much of the city a person is allowed to claim as their own. Urban anthropologists have spent decades studying exactly this – how the way we move through a city shapes, and is shaped by, our social identity.
Table of Contents
- Movement as a marker of identity
- The flรขneur: walking as privilege and observation
- Who gets to wander, and who has to
- Motorised commute and new urban categories
- Gender and the fear of commuting after dark
- Age, disability, and dependence on public infrastructure
- When the state restricts mobility
- Walking versus motorised commute: two different cities
Movement as a marker of identity
The mode of transport someone uses regularly sorts them into overlapping social categories almost automatically. A person’s daily commute often reveals more about their socio-economic standing, political access, and cultural belonging than their home address does. Mobility is not a neutral, functional act – it is loaded with meaning about class, gender, age, and ethnicity.
Over time, these patterns let city dwellers build a sense of who they are in relation to others: the daily metro commuters, the walkers, the car owners, the app-based cab users. These are not just transport choices. They become identity markers, creating layered social categorisations that go far beyond a neighbourhood or a pin code.
The flรขneur: walking as privilege and observation
One of the earliest and most influential ideas in this space comes from 19th-century Paris. The figure of the flรขneur – a man who wandered the city streets purely to observe – became a foundational concept for understanding how walking structures urban space. The term was closely tied to the poetry of Charles Baudelaire and was later developed extensively by the German philosopher Walter Benjamin.
Benjamin used the flรขneur to explore what it meant to experience the shocks and sensations of the modern industrial city. Scholars have since noted that the flรขneur was, almost by definition, a middle-class figure with the social standing to move through public space at a leisurely pace, without fear of surveillance or suspicion. Anthropologists studying mobility today have picked up this figure again, using it as a lens for ethnographic fieldwork that pays close attention to how walking generates knowledge of the city, as research on the flรขneur as a key figure of mobility shows.
Who gets to wander, and who has to
The privilege at the heart of the flรขneur idea is exactly what makes it useful for anthropology. Wandering the city as an indulgence is very different from wandering it out of necessity. Women, ethnic minorities, elderly people, children, and homeless populations have rarely had the option to move through public space with the same ease. For many of these groups, moving through the city is compulsion, not choice – a search for safety, income, or shelter rather than an aesthetic experience, a distinction that scholars of urban anthropology such as Rivke Jaffe and Anouk de Koning explore in their work on urban mobilities.
Motorised commute and new urban categories
Once motorised transport enters the picture, a new set of categories emerges. These groupings are not necessarily built on ethnicity or culture. They form around gender, age, physical ability, and socio-economic status – factors that determine who can access a vehicle, who can afford one, and who feels safe using public transport at all.
Gender and the fear of commuting after dark
Across Indian cities, gender remains one of the sharpest dividing lines in urban mobility. Multiple surveys point to the same pattern: women consistently report feeling unsafe on public transport, regardless of their ethnic or class background. A national survey covering more than 4,000 women across 140 Indian cities found that safety concerns directly shape women’s choice of travel mode, with the vast majority saying they would change their route, timing, or mode of transport after a frightening experience.
This fear is not abstract. A large multi-city assessment covering more than two lakh commuters found that nearly a third of women commuters reported facing harassment or theft, while over 40 percent said overcrowding made their journeys feel unsafe. Interestingly, safety concerns also shape which transport technologies women adopt. Studies on ride-hailing apps show that a large share of women users pick cabs specifically because the in-app safety features make them feel more secure than other available options, even when the fare is higher than a bus or shared auto.
The result is a distinct social category of urban mobility: women who plan their entire day, career choices, and even job locations around perceived safety, rather than purely around cost or convenience.
Age, disability, and dependence on public infrastructure
Elderly residents and people with physical disabilities face a different but related constraint. Without reliable, accessible public transport, this group cannot move independently at all. Buses without ramps, metro stations without lifts, and footpaths without proper surfaces turn ordinary commutes into obstacle courses. Unlike the flรขneur’s voluntary wandering, this is a mobility pattern defined entirely by dependence – on family members, on paratransit schemes, or on whatever infrastructure the city happens to provide. This dependence becomes its own identity marker, distinguishing this group’s urban experience sharply from that of able-bodied, working-age commuters.
When the state restricts mobility
Mobility exclusion is not always about infrastructure gaps or personal safety fears. Sometimes it is engineered directly by state power. One of the most studied examples internationally is the New York Police Department’s “stop-and-frisk” policy, under which officers stopped pedestrians they deemed suspicious and searched them for weapons or contraband.
Analysis of NYPD records found that around 85 percent of more than five million pedestrian stops between 2002 and 2019 were directed at Black and Latino residents, a rate wildly out of proportion to their share of the city’s population. Advocacy groups tracking the policy have pointed out that the vast majority of people stopped were found to have done nothing wrong, yet the searches continued to disproportionately target people of colour and, more recently, Muslim residents as well.
The effect of policies like this goes well beyond the individual stop. When certain groups know they are more likely to be searched, questioned, or detained simply for walking through particular neighbourhoods, their mobility contracts. They avoid certain streets, certain hours, certain modes of transport. This selective policing chips away at the idea of a truly cosmopolitan city, where movement is supposed to be open to everyone. It also limits access to jobs, welfare services, and political participation that depend on being able to move freely through urban space.
Walking versus motorised commute: two different cities
Put together, walking and motorised commuting create very different experiences of the same city. Walking can be an indulgence for the privileged flรขneur, a health choice for the fitness-conscious, or a grinding necessity for someone who cannot afford bus fare. Motorised transport extends how far a person can travel, but it also exposes deep inequalities in who can afford it, who feels safe using it, and who is stopped and questioned while using it.
These mobility choices are not just logistics. They shape how city dwellers encounter each other, whose paths cross whose, and which parts of the city remain unfamiliar to which groups. A wealthy car owner and a daily bus commuter may live ten minutes apart, yet experience almost entirely separate versions of the same city. For anyone studying urban life closely, mobility patterns offer one of the clearest windows into how a city’s social identity is actually built – not through its skyline or its official boundaries, but through the everyday, unequal act of getting from one place to another.
What do you think? Do you notice your own mode of commute shaping how you see yourself in your city? And which groups in your city do you think face the biggest gap between wanting to move freely and actually being able to?
References
- https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1111/1469-8676.12381
- https://www.taylorfrancis.com/books/mono/10.4324/9781003225133/introducing-urban-anthropology-rivke-jaffe-anouk-de-koning
- https://www.orfonline.org/research/women-on-the-move
- https://www.thenewsminute.com/news/women-make-up-less-than-1-of-workforce-in-indias-public-transport-survey-finds
- https://sprf.in/womens-mobility-and-public-transportation/
- https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0047235221000040
- https://www.cssny.org/news/entry/stop-and-frisk
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