As a teenager, I’ve started to notice how much harder it’s getting to find places to just hang out or connect with friends.
In a society increasingly defined by digital interaction and fast-paced living, the disappearance of “third spaces” has become a crisis. These essential gathering places, neither home nor work, serve as the backbone of community engagement, facilitating dialogue, connection, and a sense of belonging. They’re supposed to be spaces where you can meet people, share ideas, or just relax without spending a ton of money. But lately, it seems like those spaces are vanishing, and it’s having a real impact on me and others my age.
Sociologist Ray Oldenburg coined the term “third spaces” to describe informal, neutral places where people from different backgrounds come together. Unlike the home (first space) or workplace (second space), third spaces are voluntary. They can include coffee shops, churches, barbershops, gyms, and even public parks. They are places where people can unwind, share ideas, and build relationships outside of the structured environments of school or work.
Why You Should Care
In recent years, these spaces have been shrinking or disappearing altogether. Rising real estate costs, gentrification, and the proliferation of online interactions have contributed to the decline. Small businesses that once served as community hubs struggle to compete with big-box stores and online shopping platforms. Libraries face budget cuts, while parks often succumb to privatization or neglect. The COVID-19 pandemic accelerated this trend, as social distancing measures forced the closure of many third spaces, most of which never reopened.
Without third spaces, people have fewer opportunities to meet new people, engage in conversations, or simply exist in a shared environment. Instead, many people retreat to online spaces, accelerating polarization and isolation.
Additionally, the increasing corporatization of social spaces has shifted their purpose. Modern coffee chains or co-working spaces are often designed for efficiency and profit rather than fostering genuine connection. This shift reflects a bigger cultural trend toward individualism, where personal productivity is prioritized over community well-being.
As a teenager, I feel like my generation is hit hardest by the disappearance of third spaces. We’re at an age where we really need places to just be. Younger kids can hang out at playgrounds, and adults have bars or other spaces tailored to them. But for teens, the options are super limited, especially if you’re broke like most of us are. Most teens have resorted to driving around and hanging out in cars, which is unsafe and can get expensive.
Even when I do find places to go, they don’t always feel welcoming. Coffee shops, for example, are often more about productivity than connection. Most people are working on laptops with headphones in, not chatting or building a sense of community. As a barista, I can attest that many of these spaces prioritize profit over creating a hangout spot. Places like community centers aren’t an option either, the events feel cheesy and not like they’re actually catered to teens.
The absence of third spaces has significant social, cultural, and mental health implications. The lack of third space has pushed many teenagers, myself included, to move to online platforms, but digital platforms can’t match the importance of shared physical experiences, encounters, and engagement with the environment. Plus digital networks are so integrated in our first and second spaces that using them as a third space can’t provide a proper escape.
These spaces play a critical role in reducing loneliness, promoting civic engagement, and fostering a sense of unity. In neighborhoods without accessible third spaces, residents often feel disconnected and disenfranchised, leading to weaker community ties and even higher crime rates.
The Bigger Picture
The loss of third spaces isn’t just a problem for teens, it’s a problem for communities as a whole. Without these spaces, we lose opportunities to meet new people, have spontaneous conversations, and feel connected. I think that’s part of why so many people feel isolated or stuck in their own bubbles.
For teens like me, this can also take a toll on our mental health. Loneliness can lead to higher rates of depression and anxiety, and I’ve felt it myself when I spend too much time alone or stuck online. It’s exhausting not having a space where I can escape from the pressures of school or home life.
And it’s not just about socializing. Third spaces are also important for community events, activism, and just helping people feel safer in their neighborhoods. They’ve been at the heart of major social movements and cultural shifts in history. Without them, it feels like we’re losing something that brings us together and makes us stronger as a society.
What We Can Do
Fixing this problem isn’t easy, but I think it’s possible. Cities could invest more in places like parks, libraries, and teen-centered community centers, making sure they’re accessible and welcoming for everyone. Small businesses that act as hangout spots could get support to help them stay open. Even empty lots or old buildings could be turned into spaces where teenagers can gather.
For teens, events like open mic nights, art shows, or even just “teen nights” that take into account what teens would actually want to do, could make a big difference. And while digital spaces aren’t a perfect substitute, they could be used to organize in-person meetups or advocate for more third spaces in our neighborhoods.
Why It Matters to Me
The disappearance of third spaces isn’t just some abstract idea, it’s something I feel every day. Without them, I’m stuck juggling the stress of school, home, and friendships without a good place to escape or connect. Having more spaces to just be, without spending money or feeling out of place, would mean everything. It’s not just about hanging out; it’s about having somewhere to feel like part of a community.
I know that third spaces might seem like a small thing in the big picture, but their impact is huge. They’re what make neighborhoods feel alive, give people a sense of belonging, and help us all connect in ways that really matter. Losing them means losing something really important, and that’s not a future I want for myself, or anyone else.
