Inclusion is not an aesthetic choice. It’s not a checklist or a polished consultation plan. Inclusion in cities means asking who gets to shape the spaces we move through every day—and who has been systematically left out of that shaping for too long.

Inclusive cities are not simply those that accommodate difference. They are the ones built from it.

This is not just about spatial design—it’s about social reimagination. Across different contexts and continents, a shared truth is becoming harder to ignore: public space is never neutral. It reflects who is heard, who is visible, and who belongs. And if cities are to become truly inclusive, they must be made differently—from the ground up, with the people who live in them.

At Estel, this work begins with a simple principle: those who inhabit a place are the experts of it. From Barcelona to London, from underpasses and green corridors to abandoned football fields, this principle holds. Participatory design is not a soft add-on—it is a rebalancing of power. It says: you belong here. You matter. Your voice shapes this space.

Neil Pinder of HomeGrown Plus put it directly: “We should be the ones who start to shape what the cities look like, not be told what the cities look like.” His project in South London shows what happens when communities—not developers—take the lead. Children, bus drivers, elders, and residents from all walks of life came together to reimagine a neglected bridge. “Voice before vision. You have to listen to people first.”

He reminded us that community knowledge doesn’t come in spreadsheets—it comes in stories. A 74-year-old woman who had to turn back from a job interview because of a bird dropping. A group of teenagers sketching vibrant ideas after visiting the site on the weekend. “Even the best buildings become weather-worn,” Neil said. “So what if we remade them with the people who use them?”

This is what participation can be: not performance, but power-sharing. Not design for people, but design with them.

Jennie Savage FRSA  extended this thinking through her work in Tower Hamlets. “When women and girls are consulted, it’s always about safety,” she said. “But what would we learn if we asked a different set of questions?” Her project reframed urban experience through the eyes of those too often asked only what they fear. And what emerged was not a plea for protection—but a call for belonging.

Safety, as Jennie’s work showed, is not just about lighting or fences. It’s about being seen, being included, being able to walk without comment or fear. 

“One young woman told us, ‘Up until this point, I hadn’t realised I could choose where I walked. And if I choose where I walk, I own the city.’”

Her process drew on over 500 voices—through street interviews, walking journals, digital maps, and design workshops—resulting in a gender-inclusive framework for urban planning rooted not in abstract principles, but in lived, everyday reality.

Konstantina Chrysostomou of Estel Cooperative described similar shifts through the transformation of an abandoned football field in Montornès Nord, on the outskirts of Barcelona. Their approach—grounded in participatory action research—turned a forgotten plot into a shared, multifunctional space co-created by children, caregivers, migrants, and elders.

“Participation is not consultation,” she said. “It’s real collaboration. Even those without formal documents have the right to shape their city.”

The process was expansive and inclusive. It began not with a blueprint, but with conversations—with those who use the space, those who care for others, those who are often absent from the table. “We are not just designing spaces—we are shaping societies.” And the result was not just a plan, but a shared infrastructure of care, creativity, and agency.

Importantly, Estel’s work went beyond design. It asked: who manages the space once built? Who decides how it is used, programmed, maintained? 

“When we plan together,” Konstantina said, “we don’t just change the landscape. We redistribute power.”

That redistribution must also happen at the level of institutions, norms, and professions. Caroline Cole of The Equilibrium Network Ltd emphasized the structural work required to embed equity in the built environment. “We reviewed how women are shaping our cities—and the positive effect this is having for men and for women alike.”

Her team’s work has created practical tools—mentoring guides, ethical codes, procurement strategies—that support inclusive practice from policy to implementation. Just as power must be shared with communities, it must also be shared across professions, disciplines, and generations.

And it must be global. Caroline reminded us that inclusive design is not a Western ideal, but a universal imperative—one being interpreted and reimagined in cities around the world, shaped by different histories and hopes.

Together, these voices are drawing a new map for city-making. One defined not by efficiency, but by equity. Not by visual impact, but by social connection. Not by control, but by care.

And yet, this work is not easy. Participatory processes are slow, messy, full of friction and learning. They often meet resistance—both bureaucratic and cultural. But they also generate new ways of being together in space. New forms of ownership. New definitions of what public means.

Too often, city-making is something done to people. But when people shape their cities—from the names of spaces to their lighting, from accessibility ramps to community stages—what emerges is not just better design, but deeper belonging.

Inclusive cities don’t just ask what people need. They ask what people know. They trust that everyone—regardless of age, language, gender, or status—has something to contribute.

At its best, inclusive city-making doesn’t just consult communities. It co-creates with them. It doesn’t just tolerate complexity. It invites it. And in doing so, it builds cities that are not only more just—but more alive.

This is the work: collective, joyful, often slow, occasionally frustrating—but always transformative.

Let’s move beyond inclusion as a checkbox.

Let’s build cities shaped by all of us.

* Photo: Participatory Process for the abandoned football pitch of Montornes Nord (source *Estel)