In the early 2000s, while a student at the Odesa Academy of Civil Engineering and Architecture, I descended into the basement of the Regional Library to study American homebuilding magazines. The library's most recent issues were from the 1950s, maybe the 60s. They painted a life I could not dare to imagine for myself. Detached single-family houses with luxuries like separate bedrooms for each child, multiple bathrooms, “foyers,” “mudrooms,” and courtyards.

I copied the floor plans onto tracing paper, and as I did, the lives of their inhabitants unfolded in my mind. A house for an older couple, with a powder room and a vast walk-in closet for her; a two-car garage, office, and workshop for him. Steps leading down from the foyer to the living room with multiple fireplaces. What, I wondered, did these two people do with all that glorious space?

Images of happy housewives, immaculately dressed in figure-flattering dresses and heels, beaming at various appliances (no American Dream house was complete without a dishwasher). Trim middle-aged men confidently holding on to their lawnmowers or leaning against their pride and joy, the American Dream Car.

Yevgenia’s sketch of an American Dream house, 2000

To a Ukrainian architecture student in the 2000s, all of this seemed foreign and curious in an unrelatable way. But when several years later my family and I emigrated to the U.S., we found ourselves buying into the narrative and eagerly working towards our own American Dream future.

And why, in the sprawling land of unlimited resources, would one not strive for their own piece of land with a large house, a couple of cars, and a front lawn? Nothing is a more apt symbol of American wholesomeness than a white picket fence enclosing this private paradise that belongs to the hardworking citizen who has earned it.

Except the resources aren’t limited. This is more apparent in some states than others. Owning a piece of land in California is becoming a more and more distant dream for many Americans. What the baby boomers could afford when they started their families is now out of reach for Millennials and Gen Z. And in a catch-22, younger renters, unable to invest in a property, miss out on building the kind of financial prosperity that has allowed their grandparents to upgrade their starter home to a bigger house in a nice area.

Statistics show us that this phenomenon is not all in our heads. It’s not because the youngsters are lazy, lack financial planning skills, or drink too many matcha lattes. The main culprit is the dramatic decrease in median income alongside an even more dramatic increase in home prices.

Those of us who have caught a lucky wave or moved far enough from the metropolitan areas and have been able to buy a single-family home are now facing the reality of limited resources. Our large homes are energy hogs, requiring hundreds or even thousands of dollars a month to operate. Our lawns demand the water that is sorely needed for agriculture and human bodies. The cars that enabled our urban sprawl pollute the environment, contribute to extreme weather events, and make our HVAC systems work even harder. Our suburban paradise lacks basic community features, and we are so dependent on cars that a 5-minute walk seems like Everest. Our health is at an all-time low, a direct result of our lifestyle.

The American Dream lifestyle.

Rethinking affordability.
Given the unfortunate inverse trend between the median income and the price of a detached home, something has to give. Either the income must align with the new real estate reality, or the property values must fall significantly. We have seen the latter during the 2008 housing crisis. Of course, back then, the lowered home prices also came with a massive spike in unemployment, which is not the effect we are after.
What about raising the incomes to match the baby boomer income to home price ratios? This would require a coordinated effort between the government and the private employers and would likely increase the property values as a side effect.
So then, how do we tweak the housing affordability equation to work in our current reality within the median income levels and property values? One solution is to reframe the American Dream to a smaller footprint. Less house = less money, and maybe one can afford the minimum. This, at the very least, can offer us a point of entry into home ownership to generate wealth (however small).
Instead of asking, “How can I afford the 2000 sq. ft house?” we can ask, “How much of a house can I afford given my current financial resources?”
Rethinking housing.
What if the premise of the American Dream - the detached single-family home - is fundamentally wrong for our future and even the present? Does an average American family need to live in the 3Br/2Ba home with the front lawn and the picket fence? What are the alternatives to the suburban lifestyle?
Let’s start with “single-family.” What if this is negotiable? Having lived in apartment buildings for about half my life, I understand that neighbors can be annoying and private backyards can be nice. However, in the context of our resource poverty, maybe Americans can agree to a compromise. The solution doesn’t have to lie at the end of the housing spectrum (I know you’re imagining huge concrete apartment towers, aptly named “anthills” in the Soviet construction). Missing Middle Housing types offer a gentler approach that better integrates into the American city.
Rethinking community.
The suburban housing model has its allure - space, privacy, perceived safety - but lacks a vital element: community. When neighborhoods are dominated by detached single-family homes with fenced yards and driveways facing the street, interactions between residents are few and far between. There are fewer choices for spontaneous connection and less visible life unfolding around us.
Denser housing like townhomes, courtyard buildings, and low-rise multifamily create more opportunities for unplanned interaction. Shared greenspaces and pedestrian-friendly streetscapes encourage people to get out and mingle, maybe even take a walk to the bakery around the corner. (This last suggestion touches on the theme of American zoning laws…which is a topic for another post!)

The bright colors of the American Dream home are fading. Statistics reveal the widening gap between incomes and property values, putting homeownership out of reach for many. Large detached houses carry disproportionate environmental impacts. There is a misalignment between the fairytale and the reality.

The emerging American Dream (let’s call it The Corner Bakery Dream) rethinks cultural assumptions that bigger is better. Faced with the economics of today and the shifting generational priorities, it reframes our shared dreams around building a society where the future is possible even for the most vulnerable. This Dream prioritizes people over property. It swaps isolation for inclusion, privacy for the community, and independence for interdependence. Our happiness and security arise more from the strength of our relationships than the square footage of our homes (although I must admit, the number of bathrooms matters in a relationship, too!)

As we redefine the American ideal, may we focus first on the ties that bond us together - across ages, incomes, and geographies - because communities grounded in care for neighbors will always be the surest path to the future we dream of.

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