Marsha P. Johnson State Park

The site of an old marine and shortline rail terminal on the East River, at the edge of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, became a state park in 2007. Thirteen years later the state renamed East River State Park in honor of transgender activist Marsha P. Johnson.

But there's been a lot of change here besides the name. An extremely outdated description at nyctourism.com says this: "East River State Park, otherwise known as the Williamsburg Waterfront, is not fancy: stage, concrete, water...Families can relax amongst historic rail yard remnants, and in the summer, take in family-friendly music and film series."

That doesn't remotely describe today's Marsha P. Johnson State Park, which abuts the unremarkable sports fields of Bushwick Inlet Park. It has some of the fancy trappings that go with our age of reckless real estate development and gentrification, but also exudes a neighborhood-y feel.

The big benefit of a park in this location is, of course, the waterfront.

In the upper left of the photo above there's a seaplane, on the way to Boston perhaps.

Waterfront aside, there's space here for both family fun and sleepy romance.

Remnants of the site's industrial past flowed together with spring flowers and chalked whimsy on a mid-May visit.

A little wooden train perhaps is meant to suggest the short trains that ran here from the waterfront to the lot or street where cargo could be taken up by vehicles for delivery or processing.

Jumbles of stones make good play spaces.

There's fun – and relaxation opportunities – aplenty in this quiet park.

The park's renaming occurred under the Andrew Cuomo administration in 2020. Signage here will tell you that Marsha P. Johnson (1945-1992) was a "Black gay and trans liberation activist, drag queen performer, actress, and sex worker [who]...struggled with mental illness" and lived with HIV/AIDS.

She "was known in the West Village for her charisma, joyfulness, and generosity, while living against great odds...Many called her a saint: Saint Marsha."

After the Stonewall uprising, where she was present, she "moved to the forefront of the Gay Liberation Movement." The "P" in her name, we are told, stood for a motto of hers, "Pay it no mind," which is written over her park's main entrance on Kent Ave.

Her body was found in the Hudson River in July of 1992. Uncertainty lingers over whether her death was a suicide or murder.

In recent years New York City has acted to belatedly honor African Americans by naming parks for them. New York State has taken steps in that direction too, and in this case with an African American who was also part of the LGBTQ+ community.

Along the same lines, In March 2024 present governor Kathy Hochul issued a proclamation declaring a Transgender Day of Visibility.

Netflix released a documentary about Johnson in 2017.

Hank O'Neal, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Marsha P. Johnson State Park carries only remnants of the site's industrial/commercial past, but history lives on all around Brooklyn. Consider these old stable doors on a nearby street.

And history is made by all kinds of people. Case in point: Marsha P. Johnson State Park.

All photos © Oren Hope except where noted

Riverbank State Park

Ever since Riverbank State Park opened 20 years ago on the Hudson River, uniquely situated atop a sewage treatment plant, I've meant to pay a visit. But knowing that the park was most known for its athletic facilities, I didn't expect there'd be much of interest to report for this greenery-focused blog. Sure enough, Nature isn't the big reason to visit Riverbank. And yet, arriving on a misty and exceptionally mild January day, I had a fantastic time just walking around the grounds.

Yes, it's mostly an athletic complex. But with the 28 acres mostly deserted for the winter, the generous spread of sports facilities reminded me much more of ancient Olympia in Greece than of the grubby, uninviting blacktops of my un-athletic childhood. Beyond lofty, green, arched gates, the sweeping entry road crosses the roaring highway far below, on this foggy day providing a strangely sublime view of the New Jersey buildings reflected in the grey river.

After a long crossing you reach the park itself and if you stay to the right you'll find open spaces and picnic areas with nice riverside views. Here's the view north towards the George Washington Bridge:

And here's the Charles B. McAllister nosing its way into some sort of business:

Up in the park, the previous night's rain had left puddles in the brick walkways reflecting the bare trees of January:

While it's no Greek ruin, the Waterfront Amphitheatre furthered my sense of walking through a modern iteration of an ancient plan. The shapes at the top are more of those New Jersey building reflections in the Hudson River:

Outdoor swimming facilities speak more starkly when they're closed. This one echoes the shape of the amphitheatre too.

A few people were using the track or kicking around a soccer ball.

And I discovered that softball season can extend into the middle of the winter if the weather cooperates.

This garden was awaiting warmer days:

But these geese have their own calendar.

The busy facility here this time of year is the ice skating rink, which also has the park's most distinctive architectural feature in these arches:

In the park's early days, people reported nasty smells pervading the grounds, but evidently those problems have been fixed. Mostly it's easy to forget you're on top of a sewage treatment plant. An elevated section at the southern end felt like its own world, where kids were playing basketball, and the waterfront stretches on this lonely winter day felt truly peaceful. But back near the entrance, giant organ pipes loom high above everything else, attended by buses-in-waiting.

Wherever you walk in Manhattan, the hidden life of the city pulses beneath you, popping up here and there and now and then – when transformers explode in a cascade of lights during a superstorm, or where giant stacks watch over ballfields, gardens, grazing geese, chattering children, a cultural center, even a restaurant, as they do here at Riverbank State Park.