Glass Half Full: Keeping us in, shutting us out
Gated communities are a symbol of stratification and strict standards
Posted on January 24, 2008
I hail from Northern Virginia, where development is humongous and the single-family homes even bigger. I grew up in a moderate townhouse with three floors and a lot of stairs that are a hassle to vacuum. My best friend in high school lived in a home three times the size of mine and with an infinite amount of stairs, hallways, carpets, rooms and “sitting areas.” Only, she never had to clean them. That’s what the nanny was for.
Gated communities are springing up everywhere. My friend lived in a certain gated community with all the benefits of an elite country club. I had to call in before I drove over to be ushered through the gate by a slovenly fellow in a bellhop’s uniform. If asked for her address, she said she lived on the ninth hole. As hilarious a response as this comment received, I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous—and a little pissed off—at her response.
Why do I have to live in a measly peasant home when I could live on top of a golf course? How come I have to scrub my own toilet when we could hire someone to do it, and wash my clothes, and clean my room, and make my dinner? Now that I’ve matured out of my better-than-you high school mindset, I can look more objectively at the gated community scheme as a whole—and not just at who’s inside, but why they are in there.
This is in no way a diatribe about the economic inequities of our nation. I don’t care if you live in the Playboy mansion or in a hovel. I do, however, care very much about why one lives there and how one can justify, as a community, literally locking other communities out.
It seems to me that the gated community is like a giant dome that everyone can see through (such as the one Springfield was encapsulated inside in the “Simpson’s Movie”). It’s a permeable membrane, yet a membrane nonetheless. But are developers trying to keep people in or keep people out?
This is more than a proletariat versus bourgeoisie argument. This caste system goes against all that defines a community. How can one be expected to interact with different social classes when there’s a giant gate telling you to go back or to back off? I don’t think the words “gated” and “community” mingle very well in a sentence. The idea itself and the real-estate terminology are true oxymorons (heavy emphasis on the “moron” part).
Every time I walk on campus a new fence or guardrail has been staked around the academic buildings. Aside from being the most aesthetically displeasing landscaping job I’ve ever seen, the message that these barriers send is one of blatant distrust and skepticism. College students cannot be trusted around foliage! Grass is an imminent threat to those walking to classes! Can students not be respectful enough to stay on the sidewalk, or is it another group of people who are not respecting us?
I think most people get a little rebellious when they’re told not to do something. But even the environment has a language, and gated communities and fences placed everywhere (especially in public places) are like a developer’s middle finger. We have signs everywhere dictating to us what we can and cannot do in our own environments.
We all need guardrails in our lives, whether they’re metaphorical or literal. But we don’t always need fences. As citizens and members of communities, we shouldn’t have to rely on chain-linked stakes to keep us all in line.
Traci Cox is a junior English major.
