Where can we go from here?

We’re losing access to community spaces - and what happens when we do not have them?

Like many kids who grew up in a city or a well-developed suburb, I biked often. Right down the block from my house was a main road that led to the park and an ice cream shop, which my friends and I would visit after we played basketball at the park or hung out at someone’s house.

I didn’t think about it back then, but that was a major source of community for me growing up. These spaces – parks, shops, places people my age could gather – gave me somewhere to be after school or sports without needing to go right home. Because of that opportunity, I was able to socialize, be out of my shell, and connect with people I may not have had the chance to meet otherwise, or just be with my friends.

As I grew up and moved onto different life stages, so did these spaces for community. In high school, my friends and I would go to Culver’s nearby after we had basketball practice or went to a football game. That space gave us a place to be – we existed there without many conditions, minus forking out four bucks for some cheese curds.

That was where everyone shared the gossip – who liked who, who was going to detention, and what parties we’d go to (perhaps not the best topics for high schoolers, but it was better than these conversations only happening online).

In college, community spaces were woven into the spaces I’d be in – study rooms, lounge areas, common areas in dorms – people couldn’t get away from community spaces. We had them all around us, and they were often complimentary.

During the warm months, we’d congregate outside and get food or just sit and talk. The cold months drove us inside, so we would find some indoor space like one of our dorms or a lounge area to sit around and exist around one another.

However, as I went through the years at college, I noticed something.

We all got busier.

As the workloads increased and we all had to do internship searches, job applications, major papers, and research projects, we found it harder and harder to make time for one another and to engage with our community that we’d built. When you need your spare time to devote to everything that must be done, you don’t get a lot of time to do what you want to do.

This cycle continued in other ways for me and others in school. When you left the dorms, you moved into landlord housing or school apartments, which gave you fewer common spaces and spread you out from one another. This meant that you needed to devote more time to figuring out when you’d go to community-centric spaces or even make time for them.

More work and more expenses meant less money for some people to go out, and that meant fewer options for spending time outside of our primary space (the home), and the options that we did have got more and more expensive over time. For those of us who hadn’t hit 21 yet, this also phased out options like most bars and restaurants that became 21+ after a certain hour.

The result? People spent less time together and more time alone completing the tasks they needed to complete to continue their studies.

This cycle feels like a microcosm of a wider trend that people in urbanist communities have seen. We’re spending less and less time among communities we’re a part of, spending more time alone, and are losing access to community spaces we once had. Restaurants, community centers, recreation spaces, outdoor spaces, and other sources of finding community and local connection are opening less often, closing more, and we don’t even have the time to get to those places.

As I’ve begun the transition to full-time work, I’ve seen this struggle firsthand. Work can be demanding, and it means that I often have to juggle a lot – work, class, seeing friends, getting out in my community, volunteering, and more. When time is in demand, the things that are in high demand put themselves on top. And that means that finding the time for things lower on my list – seeing friends, getting out, or going to events – needs to be accommodated to fit in. That’s no small feat some days, but it’s what you need to do.

So, where do we go from here? I don’t know how we can fix all of these major issues throughout our social fabric, but here’s what I think we can do as individuals to at least start to improve upon this situation.

Now more than ever, we need spaces that bring people together. The best way to combat isolation is to be out and about. Whether it’s a coffee shop, the local Y, your favorite hole-in-the-wall joint, or a park, we need to be frequenting these spaces and supporting them. Recommend them to friends, bring family there, and maybe host things there.

Maybe there aren’t many good options for finding community, and it’s not accessible. That’s where the spaces we already have can come in. A small living room gathering could make all the difference between isolation and finding the community we need.

Another way we can help with this problem is by getting involved. Find causes you care about, give your time to them, meet people, and talk to volunteers. Be a part of something beyond ourselves right now, because we need reasons to stay engaged.

Maybe we can’t solve the community crisis overnight, but there are things we can do to help with it.