The Enclosure of the People’s Beach

For nearly a century, Jacob Riis Park has stood as a defiance of the elite exclusivity that defines so much of the American coastline. Known affectionately as the "People’s Beach," it has served as a sanctuary for the working class, a vital hub for the LGBTQ+ community, and a rare space where the cost of entry is nothing more than a subway fare and a bus transfer.

But as reporting from Thenation.com reveals, that legacy is currently being tested by the creeping tide of commercialization. The long-vacant bathhouse at Riis Park has been revived not as a public utility, but as a members’ club. While the building itself is a historic landmark, its transformation into a site of curated consumption raises a fundamental question: When we "restore" public spaces through private investment, who are we actually restoring them for?

The Cost of the Commons

The story of the Riis bathhouse is a familiar one in the neoliberal era. Starved of public funding, municipal and federal agencies often look to private developers to shoulder the burden of maintenance and renovation. On the surface, it looks like a win-win. A decaying building is saved, and new amenities are added.

However, as Thenation.com points out, this model inevitably shifts the gravity of a space. When a landmark in a public park becomes a members' club, it sends a clear signal about who is welcome and who is merely a guest. It transforms a site of collective ownership into a site of tiered access. This is the enclosure of the commons by other means.

Public parks are meant to be the great equalizers. They are the few places left in our society where your status as a consumer is irrelevant. By introducing high-end commerce into the heart of the People’s Beach, we risk eroding the very qualities that made Riis a refuge for those who have been marginalized elsewhere.

Preservation or Gentrification?

Proponents of these public-private partnerships often argue that luxury amenities help subsidize the rest of the park. But this logic is a trap. It accepts the premise that public goods must be profitable or self-sustaining to deserve existence. It treats citizens as customers.

At Riis Park, the stakes are particularly high. For decades, the beach has been a crucial site for queer life in New York, offering a sense of safety and community that wasn't always available in the city's more policed or commercialized spaces. When we allow these spaces to be rebranded for a wealthier, more "curated" demographic, we aren't just changing the architecture; we are displacing the culture.

We must be wary of any "revitalization" that requires a credit card to enjoy. If a building is too expensive for the public to maintain, the solution is not to hand it over to a developer who will charge for the privilege of entry. The solution is to demand that our government prioritize the maintenance of our shared heritage through direct public investment.

A Global Trend

This is not just a New York story. From the privatization of public water systems to the conversion of public libraries into "community hubs" filled with retail, the trend is clear. We are slowly selling off the few remaining spaces where people can exist without being marketed to.

Every time we permit a private club to take root in a public park, we chip away at the democratic ideal. We reinforce the idea that quality, beauty, and history are luxuries to be purchased, rather than rights to be shared. The bathhouse at Riis Park should be a monument to the public, not a monument to the lifestyle of a few.

The bottom line

The National Park Service and local officials must halt the expansion of private, membership-based concessions within Jacob Riis Park. Public landmarks must remain fully public. We should instead push for a "Public Works for the Public Good" initiative that funds the restoration of historic park structures through tax revenue, ensuring these spaces remain open, affordable, and truly inclusive for all New Yorkers, regardless of their ability to pay a membership fee.