{"id":268,"date":"2026-06-26T19:11:40","date_gmt":"2026-06-26T17:11:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/badassnetwork.com\/quietrevolution\/?p=268"},"modified":"2026-06-26T19:11:41","modified_gmt":"2026-06-26T17:11:41","slug":"community-living-spare-bedroom","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/badassnetwork.com\/quietrevolution\/community-living-spare-bedroom\/","title":{"rendered":"Community Is A Lovely Idea Until Someone Offers You A Spare Bedroom"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"Small<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I have spent years boring anyone willing to spend a hot minute listening to me with my opinions about community, something I explored recently when writing about The Wealth We Forgot to Measure<\/em>.<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

We build houses too big, age too separately, isolate ourselves, become suspicious of strangers and forget that humans are supposed to rub up against each other occasionally, even if only to borrow sugar, complain about politics or help prune a vineyard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I have enthusiastically explained my theories to family, friends, colleagues, unsuspecting neighbours and, if cornered long enough, probably the checkout lady at the grocery store. I genuinely believe we need to rethink how we live. Not because independence is bad. Quite the opposite. Independence is wonderful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Until it isn’t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then, last week, life tapped me on the shoulder and politely asked:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Excellent theories, Dominique. Fancy proving them?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was sitting in my hairdresser’s chair discussing two things that seem to occupy an unreasonable amount of space in my head these days: housing and Australia. One because I need to decide where I am going to land between September and December and the other because I needed permission from my employers to spend two months working from Australia later this year.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In amongst the usual haircutting rituals and me talking with my hands as if I am personally responsible for solving modern society’s housing crisis, the hairdresser mentioned her mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her mum became a widow a couple of years ago. The house is fully paid off and, on paper at least, she should probably be doing just fine. There are two bedrooms upstairs and a separate bathroom she no longer really uses. The pension isn’t enough. The electricity bill alone has become ridiculous. The house that once represented security has quietly become expensive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And lonely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’ll move in,” I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was absolutely no contemplation involved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That might sound impulsive. It probably was. But impulsive doesn’t automatically mean inauthentic. If my hairdresser rang me tomorrow and said,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Mum has thought about your offer and would like to meet,”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I would go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I have been taught to put my money where my mouth is.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The trouble is, my mouth has spent a lot of time talking about housing, community and humans needing one another.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Thankfully, most of those opinions have so far required very little personal sacrifice. It is surprisingly easy to advocate for community when nobody is asking you to share your dishwasher.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Switzerland certainly isn’t alone in grappling with the awkward mismatch between the homes we build, the lives we now lead and the growing need for people to rely on one another again. In fact, there are already several initiatives exploring intergenerational and shared housing models<\/a> that attempt to address exactly this challenge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Across much of the developed world, we seem to build houses for families with young children and then quietly shrug when those children leave. Older adults rattle around in homes they can barely afford to heat while younger generations struggle to find affordable housing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And if I genuinely believe in community, perhaps life has simply decided that now is an excellent time to test my theory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My hairdresser laughed at my offer. She said that when the Ukraine war started and many refugees were looking for temporary housing, she asked her mother if she would be willing to take on a couple of refugees. Apparently her response was:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Oh God no, I wouldn’t be able to walk around naked anymore!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Community Means Being Witnessed<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

The more we talked, the more obvious it became that my hairdresser’s mother wasn’t objecting because she desperately needs to walk around naked every morning. That was simply the statement designed to stop her daughter from pushing any further.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What she might actually be protecting is something much more precious.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her vulnerability.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps what we are really protecting when we reject the idea of sharing our homes isn’t independence at all. Perhaps we are protecting our ability to remain unseen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because being witnessed is deeply inconvenient.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Someone might notice that we don’t eat properly. That we watch rubbish television. That we are lonelier than we admit. That we have spent an entire lifetime avoiding difficult conversations and therefore have absolutely no idea how to tell an eighty-two-year-old widow that her fifteen cats are making us itchy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It occurred to me that my hairdresser’s mother might not be afraid of sharing her house. She might simply be afraid of being witnessed. Witnessed in her grief, witnessed in her pace and witnessed in the comfort she has carefully rebuilt around herself after losing her husband. Perhaps she is also terrified of the conversation six months later if she discovers she cannot stand me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To be fair, I have concerns too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She may have an extraordinary newspaper collection lining her hallways dating back to 1993. She might have fifteen cats or a dog that smells equally questionable as my mother’s. Incidentally, I could move in with my mother. She has less room, but room nonetheless. The dog, or to be more precise, her dog’s breath, remains a sticking point.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Or perhaps my hairdresser’s mother places the forks on the right-hand side of the plate and refuses to entertain any discussion about it because, after eighty-two years, she has earned the right to set the table however she bloody well pleases.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then another thought occurred to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What if I am just as corroded in my flexibility as she is?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After all, I have spent thirty-five years being the self-appointed boss of our household. I know how I like my kitchen. I know how I like my mornings. I know how I like my quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Apparently, I too have become rather attached to my own nonsense, which frankly felt a bit rude.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I have spent years advocating for more community, more interdependence and more creative ways of living together. Yet when life unexpectedly presents me with an opportunity to test one of my own theories, I discover I am quietly terrified.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not because I think community is a bad idea. Quite the opposite. I suspect I might love it, hate it or simply discover that community is wonderful in theory but deeply irritating in practice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe that was always going to be the case.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After all, community isn’t an app that you can swipe away when you are overwhelmed. It isn’t an urban planning concept. It isn’t a TED Talk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Community is people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People with smelly dogs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People with weird habits.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People who have spent decades arranging their forks in a particular way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People who don’t know how to resolve conflict.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People who fear being judged.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People who don’t know how to ask someone to leave if it doesn’t work out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People like my hairdresser’s mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People like me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And perhaps that is what has surprised me most.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not that an elderly woman might be frightened of sharing her home. But that I am quietly terrified of being asked to share mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It turns out I am very enthusiastic about community, provided everyone goes home afterwards. Unfortunately, life seems to have other ideas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The hairdresser hasn’t called.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her mother probably still thinks nudity is a perfectly acceptable housing strategy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I still think we need to build differently, live differently, trust differently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I am just no longer entirely convinced that I am as flexible as I previously imagined myself to be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps most of us aren’t protecting our independence at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps we are simply protecting our right to remain comfortably untested.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I have spent years boring anyone willing to spend a hot minute listening to me with my opinions about community, something I explored recently when writing about The Wealth We Forgot to Measure. We build houses too big, age too…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":20,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-268","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-reflections"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/badassnetwork.com\/quietrevolution\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/268","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/badassnetwork.com\/quietrevolution\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/badassnetwork.com\/quietrevolution\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/badassnetwork.com\/quietrevolution\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/20"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/badassnetwork.com\/quietrevolution\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=268"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/badassnetwork.com\/quietrevolution\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/268\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":273,"href":"https:\/\/badassnetwork.com\/quietrevolution\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/268\/revisions\/273"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/badassnetwork.com\/quietrevolution\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=268"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/badassnetwork.com\/quietrevolution\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=268"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/badassnetwork.com\/quietrevolution\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=268"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}