Over the summer, I had the privilege of living at Wait Terrace, one of Cornell’s eight cooperative (co-op) houses. Inside that yellow house filled with jigsaw puzzles, I spent many evenings cooking alongside my housemates talking about my background, lying on the couch crying about problems at work, and on the living room floor absorbing the wonders of my housemates that I could only detect through glimpses into their daily routine. Most of our time was simply being. With similar mindsets — (cynical) liberalism and political activism, expression of self through art, and a not-yet-perfected exploration of physical and mental health — we talked for hours. Our shared space fostered a community.
Co-ops, or communal living spaces, are inherently collaborative communities governed by their student residents. Members determine house rules and participate in chores, such as cleaning and maintenance. Decisions affecting the house are made democratically at individual house meetings. Common spaces are kept clean with the continuous effort of all house members. Amenities are shared; Wait Terrace has communal kitchen supplies bought in previous years using house money from rent, a washer and dryer in the basement, and a living room space.
Co-ops can take various forms, explains Sam J. Leeds, a producer and reporter, on an episode of Life Kit by NPR. “It can be friends renting in the same apartment building…raising kids on the same street as a couple of other families…buying a big house with like-minded people… It’s about commitment to pooling resources and collaborative decision-making. And for many, that commitment is long term rather than a stop on the way to living solo.” At its basis, members of an intentional community unite around a shared social, political, religious, or spiritual vision, and collaborate in managing responsibilities and communal property. Communal living spaces are a powerful, intuitive, and simple way for sustainable living based on sharing objects, amenities, and homes, or even green skills, norms, and values.
The co-op lives in a world outside the traditional rules of our modern, capitalist society. This sharing of household items is a radical fight against consumerism. Instead of each person needing their own supplies, the co-op had shared appliances, reducing individual consumption. Likewise, we had communal house staples, foods that many members regularly used — such as baking ingredients, reducing the cost of supplies and preventing food waste.
At their core, co-ops are a working critique of capitalism — the economic system based on competition, not cooperation. On a deeper level, they are a microcosm of socialism: co-ops strive for economic equality with lower rent than dorms or apartments and access to the essentials, which reduces economic disparities within the community. In co-ops, we share spaces and physical goods as well as our inner lives with each other, fostering strong structures of trust and mutual support.
On a larger scale, however, the contemporary embodiment of a “sharing economy” is simply an expansion of consumerism because it largely functions on renting instead of borrowing. For instance, Rent the Runway, an online e-commerce website that rents designer apparel and accessories, reinforces the constant need to have “more” and something that “looks new.” In this case, renting clothing is not contributing to slow and sustainable fashion, it is keeping up with micro-trends without cluttering one’s possessions.
I hope the United States can take the ethos of a co-op and expand it to help heal the wounds of gluttony formed by capitalism. Ithaca already holds a profound example of communal living in EcoVillage, home to about 210 residents across three neighborhoods: Frog, Song and Tree. EcoVillage balances the privacy of individual homes with the strong neighborhood ties that develop from shared interests by prioritizing shared spaces such as the Common House and central gardens between homes. The Common House “provides a place to gather for… shared dinners, parties, meetings, laundry, yoga classes, kids playrooms, and more,” according to the EcoVillage website. Village residents further foster community by dedicating 2 to 3 hours per week to maintaining clean spaces and volunteering to a Work Team, which includes Cooking, Dishes, Outdoors, Maintenance, Common House, Finance, Process/Steering, and Community Life. EcoVillage further breaks away from consumerism by centering around a shared goal of sustainability: the community sources food from three on-site organic farms, has community gardens and green buildings and obtains half of its energy from solar power.
Communal living is one remedy to Robert D. Putnam’s description of increased disconnection from family, friends, neighbors, and democratic structures in Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community. As such, I expect to see a rise in people living in communal housing in the following years as people increasingly search for alternative communities and relationships outside of marital dynamics.
An example of this change is Rosie Kellet, a resident of a communal warehouse with six of her friends, who has gained traction on Instagram in videos of cooking dinner for her warehouse. She explains, “We each pay £25 into a kitty and that money buys all our food for the week. Each night, one person cooks dinner for everyone.” Her internet popularity reinforces an increasing search for mutually supportive relationships and chosen family.
In that light, I have found a chosen family at Wait Terrace. Past and current house members define the place. I often return to the framed photos of old residents. Their imprints are all over the space, blurred together. Recently, one of my ex-housemates asked if a previous resident would have ever expected that the mini disco-ball they hung up would remain there after they — and everyone who knew them — graduated. I returned home that night wondering if I left any permanent impact on the place. I both worry that I haven’t left a mark and fear that I left part of myself in the house.
So, to the people who made Wait Terrace home for the summer: You mean the world to me. I love you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for enacting community as political resistance through communal ownership of resources, democratic decision-making and mutual support. I hope the world follows in your example.