“Much of the pushback against new zoning and parking laws involves people changing the ways they live. What would you give up to have a place where you knew your neighbors?” – This question from my recent podcast guest Nathan Allebach has been haunting me for weeks.
Let’s get real for a minute.
My DMs have become a confessional. People pour out their hearts about loneliness, about feeling disconnected, about desperately wanting community but not knowing how to find it. The loneliness epidemic isn’t just a buzzword – it’s the reality millions of us wake up to every single day.
But here’s what’s wild about all of this: We’re not just lonely by accident. We’ve systematically built a society that makes connection nearly impossible, and we’ve done it while chasing what we were told was the ultimate prize – the American Dream.
The Choice We Never Knew We Were Making
When I was preparing for my conversation with Nathan (a creative director and walkable communities advocate who’s become something of a TikTok sensation explaining urban planning), I tried to think back to my third places growing up in suburban Seattle.
You know what I came up with?
Target. We’d wander the aisles for hours, but you can’t really sit, you can’t stay without buying something, and you’re constantly surrounded by things trying to get you to spend money you probably don’t have.
The public dock on the lake was great… when Seattle weather cooperated.
But honestly? My main third place was my car.
When we didn’t want to hang out in our parents’ houses, when we were tired of school, when it was too rainy for the park and we’d exhausted our Target wandering… we’d just drive around and hang out in the car. That was it. That was our community space.
How incredibly sad is that?
In the full episode, Nathan and I dive deep into what it was like growing up with these pseudo-third places, and how we instinctively knew we were missing something but couldn’t name what it was. The whole conversation really illuminated how we’ve been trying to manufacture connection in spaces that were never designed for it.
The 1950s Promise That Became Our Prison
Here’s the thing – this didn’t happen by accident. Starting after World War II, we were sold a very specific vision of success: the single-family home with a yard, two cars in the driveway, 2.5 kids, and the ability to do it all completely independently. If you needed help, you paid for it. If you could achieve all of this, you were successful.
And you know what? People wanted this. This was the dream. This was upward mobility. This was making it.
Nathan walked me through how this suburban experiment unfolded: white families (often aided by government programs that excluded Black veterans) fled to segregated suburbs where zoning laws mandated that only single-family homes could be built. No duplexes. No townhouses. No shops. No mixed-use buildings. Just houses. Miles and miles of houses, all separated from any place you might naturally encounter your neighbors.
The kicker? We’ve achieved the dream. We built the entire infrastructure around it. We’ve got the big houses, the yards, the cars.
And now people are standing in those big houses screaming, “Where’s my village? Why am I so lonely?”
What We Traded Away (Without Realizing It)
When Nathan explained the concept of third places – those spaces that aren’t home or work where you can spend time, see familiar faces, and naturally build community – I realized we’ve systematically eliminated them.
A real third place has some key characteristics:
- ▪️ Low or no financial barrier to entry
- ▪️ A place where regulars gather
- ▪️ Somewhere you can choose your level of engagement
- ▪️ Space designed for lingering, not just transactions
Think about your favorite vacation spot or that charming downtown you love visiting. What makes it feel so alive? It’s probably got cafes where people actually sit and read, parks where kids play while parents chat, shops you can browse without pressure, maybe even residential spaces right above or next to the commercial areas.
That’s not an accident. That’s what happens when people can walk to places and naturally encounter each other.
But here’s what we chose instead: neighborhoods where you need a car to get anywhere, where the only gathering spaces are private (someone’s backyard barbecue) or commercial (the mall, Target, Starbucks – but only if you buy something and don’t linger too long).
The result? As Nathan put it, we’ve become “atomized.” We rotate between home and work with no natural spaces for the spontaneous interactions that build community over time.
The Laws That Locked Us In
Here’s where this gets really interesting (and infuriating): This isn’t just cultural. This is legal.
Nathan broke down the specific zoning and parking laws that make it nearly impossible to build the kinds of communities that naturally foster connection:
Single-family zoning: Only single-family homes allowed. No duplexes, no townhouses, no apartments, no mixed-use buildings.
Setback requirements: Houses must be built a certain distance back from the street (bye-bye, charming walkable neighborhoods with front porches).
Minimum lot size requirements: You can’t build smaller, more affordable “starter homes” even if that’s what people need.
Parking mandates: Every business and residence must provide a specific number of parking spaces, often making small businesses financially impossible and eating up land that could be used for actual community spaces.
The result? Even if you wanted to build a walkable neighborhood with corner cafes and small shops, it’s literally illegal in most of North America.
The complete episode goes much deeper into the history of how these laws came to be and why they’ve been so resistant to change. Nathan’s explanation of the post-WWII suburban experiment and its connection to racial segregation really opened my eyes to how intentional this isolation has been.
The Impossible Choice We’re All Making
So here we are, caught between two competing needs:
Financial security (home values, equity building, “good” school districts)
vs.
Social wellness (community, connection, the ability to know your neighbors)
Every time you choose the suburb over the walkable neighborhood because “it’s a better investment,” you’re making this choice.
Every time you support zoning laws that “protect property values” by keeping out duplexes or small businesses, you’re making this choice.
Every time you complain about traffic but oppose transit or bike lanes, you’re making this choice.
And here’s the thing – I’m not judging these choices. We’re all working within systems that force impossible trade-offs. But what if we could at least be honest about what we’re trading away?
What’s Actually Possible
Nathan shared examples of places that are starting to change these laws. Minneapolis legalized duplexes and triplexes citywide. Cities across North America are reducing parking requirements. Small tactical urbanism projects – like community groups painting crosswalks or adding benches – are showing people what’s possible.
But the most powerful thing he said was this: “What is the thing that you can change right now? And what is the thing that needs to be changed right now? And how can you get your neighbors and your friends sort of activated around that? And I think when you start with small things, they can very easily bubble up and become seeds, essentially, for bigger change.”
This isn’t about everyone moving to dense cities. This is about creating choices. What if you could live in a place where:
- ▪️ Your elderly parents could age in place because they could walk to a corner store?
- ▪️ Your kids could safely bike to school and have independence?
- ▪️ You could grab coffee and actually run into neighbors regularly?
- ▪️ Small businesses could thrive because people could easily walk to them?
In the full conversation, Nathan shares so many practical examples of how communities are making these changes happen, from guerrilla tactics like painting crosswalks to organizing around specific zoning reforms. There’s something really hopeful about hearing the complete picture of what people are actually doing.
The Question That Changes Everything
So here we are, back to Nathan’s question: What would you give up to have a place where you knew your neighbors?
Would you give up some home value appreciation?
Would you give up a parking space?
Would you give up the “perfect” school district if it meant your kids could walk places independently?
Would you give up some privacy if it meant regular, natural social interaction?
I’m not saying there are easy answers here. We’re all working within systems much larger than ourselves. But maybe – just maybe – if we start being honest about the trade-offs we’re making, we can begin to imagine different choices.
Maybe the next time someone proposes a duplex in your neighborhood, instead of automatically opposing it, you ask: “What if this helped more people afford to live here? What if it meant more neighbors to actually know?”
Maybe the next time you’re choosing where to live, you factor in not just the house itself, but whether you’ll have any chance of naturally running into people.
Maybe the next time you vote on local zoning issues, you think about what you’re really voting for: property values, or the possibility of community.
Your Move
The loneliness epidemic is real. The connection crisis is real. But it’s not inevitable, and it’s not just a personal failing we all need to fix individually.
Connection is infrastructure. And infrastructure is policy. And policy is something we can actually change, starting at the most local level.
So what would you give up? What are you already giving up without realizing it?
Let that question sit with you for a minute…
Ready to dive deeper into this conversation? Listen to the full episode with Nathan Allebach where we explore the complete history of how we got here, specific examples of communities making changes, and practical steps you can take in your own area. Plus, Nathan’s TikTok explanations of these concepts are absolutely brilliant – I promise you’ll learn something new.
And if this post made you think differently about connection and community, I’d love to hear about it. What trade-offs are you noticing in your own life? What would you actually be willing to give up for real community? Hit reply and let me know – your story might just be what someone else needs to hear.
Want more conversations that challenge how we think about friendship and connection? Subscribe to the Friendship IRL podcast and join a community of people who believe relationships are worth the deeper dive.
