You’re standing on the edge of the East River. The wind is biting, or maybe it’s that perfect New York summer breeze that smells faintly of salt and diesel. Across the water, the Manhattan skyline looks like a jagged glass crown. Most people come here for the view. They come for the photos. They come because someone told them this seven-acre slice of Williamsburg is the best place to see the Empire State Building turn purple at twilight.
But honestly? If you just call it "the park with the view," you’re missing the point. You're missing the soul of the place.
Marsha P. Johnson State Park isn’t just another green space in a city that’s increasingly made of glass towers and $18 lattes. It’s a battleground. It’s a memorial. And for a long time, it was just a pile of industrial rubble that nobody wanted.
The Park That Almost Wasn't
Most people still call it East River State Park. If you put that into Google Maps, it’ll get you there, but since February 2020, it has officially been Marsha P. Johnson State Park. This was a massive deal. It was the first state park in New York named after an LGBTQ+ person—specifically, a Black transgender woman who changed the world.
Before the tourists and the Smorgasburg crowds arrived, this land was the Brooklyn Eastern District Terminal. Think shipping docks. Think soot. Think heavy rail cars moving sugar and beer. By the 1980s, the industry died. The docks were abandoned. For decades, the site was just a "communal backyard" for locals. It was messy. It was unofficial.
Developers, of course, circled like vultures. They wanted high-rises. The community fought back, and they fought hard. They wanted grass. They wanted a place to breathe. Eventually, the state stepped in, and the park officially opened in 2007. But the transformation into what you see today—the $16.5 million renovation—didn’t happen until very recently.
Who Was Marsha P. Johnson?
You can't talk about the park without talking about the woman. Marsha P. Johnson was a fixture of Greenwich Village. She called herself a drag queen; today, we recognize her as a transgender pioneer. She was there at the Stonewall Uprising in 1969. Some say she threw the first brick (though she always modestly downplayed her role).
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She used to wear large, colorful flower crowns. She lived in poverty for much of her life but founded STAR (Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries) with Sylvia Rivera to help homeless queer youth. Her middle initial, "P," stood for "Pay It No Mind"—her standard response to anyone questioning her gender or her life.
When she died in 1992, her body was found in the Hudson River. The police called it a suicide. Her friends never believed that. The case was reopened in 2012, but the mystery still hangs over her legacy like a fog.
Naming this park after her wasn't just a "nice gesture." It was a reclamation of space.
The "Plastic Park" Controversy
Here’s a bit of tea that most travel blogs skip: the renovation almost went horribly wrong.
A few years ago, the state proposed a design that locals and activists absolutely hated. It involved huge plastic and foam flowers and a massive, garish mural painted over the concrete. People called it "Plastic Park." They said it felt corporate and fake—the opposite of Marsha’s authentic, gritty spirit.
Marsha’s family and local LGBTQ+ leaders spoke up. They said, "This isn't her." They wanted actual nature, not plastic replicas.
The state actually listened. They scrapped the plastic and went back to the drawing board. What you see now—the native perennial gardens, the "Marsha's Hillside" area, and the ornamental gateway—is the result of that pushback. It’s way more subtle. It’s more respectful.
What’s Actually There?
If you're visiting, don't expect a massive forest. It’s seven acres. That’s small. But it’s dense with things to see if you look closely.
- The Gateway: The entrance at Kent Avenue and North 8th Street is a work of art. It’s colorful and floral, inspired by the crowns Marsha wore.
- The "Beach": Okay, "beach" is a strong word. It’s a tiny, pebbly area where you can actually touch the East River. In a city where the waterfront is usually blocked by massive concrete bulkheads, this is a rarity. You can get your feet wet. Just... maybe don't drink the water.
- Rail Yard Remnants: Look down. You’ll see old cobblestones and railroad tracks embedded in the concrete. It’s a ghost of the park’s industrial past.
- The Great Lawn: This is where everyone collapses on Saturdays. It’s the primary spot for picnicking with a view of the Williamsburg Bridge.
- Interpretive Panels: Don't walk past these. They tell the story of the Stonewall Uprising and Marsha’s activism. The text was written by transgender leaders of color, so it’s not some sanitized, corporate version of history.
The Smorgasburg Factor
We have to talk about the food. On Saturdays (usually from April through October), the park hosts Smorgasburg.
It is chaotic. It is crowded. It is also delicious.
You’ll see 60+ vendors selling everything from ramen burgers to ube doughnuts. It turns the park from a quiet retreat into a massive open-air cafeteria. If you hate crowds, stay away on Saturdays. If you love food and don't mind waiting 20 minutes for a lobster roll, it’s heaven.
Pro tip: Get your food and head to the very edge of the water. The center of the park gets congested, but the "beach" area usually has a little more breathing room.
Getting There Without Losing Your Mind
Don't drive. Just don't. Parking in Williamsburg is a nightmare designed by a cruel deity.
Take the L Train to Bedford Avenue. It’s a short, five-minute walk toward the water.
Or, better yet, take the NYC Ferry (East River route) to the North Williamsburg stop. The ferry dock is basically right next to the park. Coming in by water gives you a perspective of the park that you can’t get from the street. You see the way the "soft" shoreline was engineered to prevent erosion using stone and native plantings.
The Reality of Visiting
Is it perfect? No.
The playground is... well, it’s a bit of an afterthought. If you have kids who need a massive jungle gym, this might not be the spot. It’s more of a "climb on a rock or a small wooden train" kind of vibe.
Also, it gets windy. Like, "lose your hat" windy. Even on a warm day, the breeze coming off the East River can be sharp. Bring a layer.
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But there’s something about sitting on the grass here. You’re in the middle of one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the world, yet you’re standing on land that was saved by activists. You’re in a park named after a woman who was once marginalized and ignored, now celebrated in the very city that often failed her.
It feels like a win.
Actionable Steps for Your Visit
- Check the Calendar: If you want a peaceful experience, go on a Tuesday morning. If you want the food fest, go Saturday.
- Read the Signs: Seriously. The history of the Gay Liberation Front and ACT UP is written on the walls here. Spend ten minutes reading it.
- Support Local: After the park, walk a few blocks into Williamsburg. Check out trans-owned businesses or local bookstores like McNally Jackson.
- Pack Light: There aren't many lockers or places to stash gear. Bring a blanket, some sunscreen, and your camera.
- Respect the Space: It’s a state park, not a city park. Rules are a bit stricter (especially regarding alcohol and dogs). The dog run is at the north end—keep your pups there if they’re off-leash.
Marsha P. Johnson used to say, "No pride for some of us without liberation for all of us." This park is a small, green piece of that liberation. Enjoy the view, but remember the history.