Last September, MBTA General Manager Phil Eng received a letter from the U.S. Department of Transportation, inquiring about the T’s public safety concerns and demanding an immediate recovery action plan. The scarlet letter demands a response within two weeks — or the MBTA risks losing all federal funding.
Rather than fostering a constructive feedback loop through peaceful cooperation, the federal administration, yet again, reveals an appetite for consolidating power over public institutions. A prime example emerged in this year’s early fall, when the government eyed a potential federal takeover of South Station — much like Union Station in Washington D.C. For context, Union Station under federal control now hosts National Guard members and military vehicles outside its perimeter, with troops and ICE agents patrolling at least ten local Metro stops throughout the city.
However, South Station is owned by the MBTA, a state agency, not by the federal government. Exerting control over it would directly conflict with constitutional principles that grant states sovereignty.
“This is not a game of authoritarian Monopoly,” Mayor Wu said. “This is a government with laws and a constitution that clearly shows who is in control of what. South Station is not the property of the federal government and there’s no legal way for anything like that to happen.”
Since the change in administration, lines between federal and state authority have grown increasingly blurred. The broader public sector — encompassing education, food assistance and community programs — has come under fire. Public transportation, by extension, finds itself now within aiming range.
To fully understand the stakes of this moment, let us step outside the T’s steel corridors and broaden our scope to a bird’s-eye view of a map that illustrates its geographic disparity.
People rely on public transportation to access workplaces, schools, supermarkets, and other areas essential to maintaining their livelihoods. In its best light, the MBTA offers affordability and accessibility to underserved communities who otherwise cannot afford a personal vehicle, making it a lifeline for working families, students, elderly residents, and people with disabilities.
However, recent reports reveal that racial disparity is embedded within the transportation system. While Massachusetts has a demographic composition of approximately 30% people of color, the MBTA disproportionately serves a community in which over 58% riders identify as people of color. On some lines, like the Orange and Silver Lines, that figure exceeds 50–60%, whereas the Green Line 40%. This lopsided concentration of transit-dependent population shows how racial inequity and geographic disparity are interconnected.
But peering into the historical origin of the T reveals an uncomfortable truth — that public transit, in its original design and intention, is deeply entrenched in the socioeconomic inequities which it promises to bridge.
The historical practice of “redlining” — zoning areas based on residential desirability — shaped the entire infrastructure of American cities. Throughout the mid-20th century, federal housing policies systematically denied loans and investments to Black neighborhoods, marking them as “hazardous” red zones. These discriminatory practices didn’t just affect housing; they shaped the entire infrastructure of transportation networks.
The system follows a model where all interline transfer stations are concentrated in the downtown area, making traveling between different “pie slices” of the city unnecessarily difficult.
Take Longwood Medical area and Kendall Square, for example — these major employment centers cluster along the farther points of the Green and Red Lines. Yet, less economically advanced neighborhoods such as Roxbury and Mattapan remain poorly connected to these bustling metropolitan segments. For instance, traveling from Nubian Square to the Longwood Medical Area requires passengers to take the Orange Line downtown to Downtown Crossing, then switch to the Green Line to the suburbs. The commuting time is four times longer than if there were a direct connection.
This inefficiency has profound consequences: it deepens the economic disadvantage in underserved areas and leaves its residents in increasingly isolated conditions. When getting to work requires multiple transfers and numerous hours, existing opportunities are effectively inaccessible, limiting economic mobility and continuing generational poverty. The way forward calls for committed investment in reconnecting underserved communities to the larger society. It means recognizing that geographic disparities in transit access are fundamentally racial disparities, and addressing them means systematically uprooting the aftermath of discriminatory policies.
However, the MBTA currently faces a staggering $90 billion maintenance backlog, with an aging infrastructure desperately in need of repair and modernization. Federal funding has been crucial to addressing these needs, making the federal administration’s threats particularly devastating.
However, there are reasons for hope. The MBTA’s Focus 40 Plan, a 2022 investment and infrastructure initiative, acknowledges the lack of service to Roxbury, Mattapan and Chelsea, and proposes targeted improvements to these underserved areas. This represents a significant shift in recognizing and addressing transit inequity.
As we face threats to federal transit funding and continued challenges in addressing infrastructure backlogs, the stakes couldn’t be higher. Public transportation isn’t just about moving people from point A to point B — it’s about access to opportunity, economic mobility and the fundamental right to participate fully in society. For marginalized communities, reliable, equitable transit isn’t a luxury; it’s a necessity. The question now is whether we will continue to perpetuate historical injustices or finally commit to building transportation systems that serve all communities fairly.
