The Working Waterfront

The power of a room of one’s own

Institute adds a housing strategy for coastal and island communities

BY KIM HAMILTON
Posted 2026-03-13
Last Modified 2026-03-13

When my parents purchased the home that I grew up in nearly 60 years ago, the $12,000 price tag was almost out of their reach. They managed to pull together a down payment, and that home has remained our family’s center of gravity for six decades.

As homes go, ours was small. Two bedrooms, one bath, a tiny kitchen and living room, and an unfinished basement and attic.  Somehow, the four of us made it work. It was a house full of all the comings and goings of any working family plus the commotion of two siblings coming of age in the 1970s and 80s. (I remember a few heated exchanges with my brother as the one-bathroom situation began to cramp our teen style.)

And I know that my father, fatigued from shift work, longed for one peaceful, eight-hour stretch of sleep uninterrupted by the banging of doors, the thump of the record player, and the endless ringing of the phone from our friends making plans.

Eventually, I moved upstairs into a newly re-finished, tongue-and-groove pine bedroom and thought I was the luckiest person alive. Many of the knots in the pine looked like animals. A rabbit, a seagull, and an especially life-like sea turtle were my constant companions. I had a long bulletin board covered with pictures of friends, my drawings as a budding artist, and no doubt plenty of Partridge Family posters. I pored over my subscription to Teen Beat in that room, staying up to date on all the latest lyrics and celebrity gossip. I loved that room, and that house.

What I didn’t realize then but understand so well today is that what happened outside that house was as important as what was happening inside. My parents’ choice to move to this small home was a good bet on ensuring a better future for their children. I received an enviable education, had friends from across the economic spectrum, and was able to build a life that was unimaginable to my younger self.

When we speak of the skyrocketing costs of housing along the coast, what’s often forgotten is the value of opportunity that stable housing provides. It empowers not just families but also communities. With it comes access to education, social services, jobs, neighbors—all of which enhance opportunity and the likelihood of economic security.

For communities, housing creates employment and investment and expands tax revenues. Without adequate housing options, families disappear, businesses struggle, and communities are weakened.

At Island Institute, we have heard clearly from communities up and down the coast and on islands that solving the housing crisis must be a top priority, and they need help. Median home prices are north of $500,000 in many locations. Interest rates are high. Housing stock is low. First-time home buyers are boxed out, and small and big businesses alike can’t attract critical talent. Everybody suffers.

In the communities where we work, the addition of two or three new units could be a game changer, but few developers are interested in small-scale development even if it’s transformational.

This is why Island Institute has launched a new housing strategy. Our goal is to strengthen community-led solutions, with more resources, technical assistance, and best national practices. Today, a coalition we’ve organized made up of communities, housing organizations, and other stakeholders already exchanges lessons and strengthens the collective voice of these communities. Through new partnerships, we’ll bring even more attention and resolve to solving the unique housing challenges along the coast.

I know there are parents out there who are struggling just like my parents did to piece together a down payment on a small home or to afford a rental unit. They have dreams for their children, and they know a permanent home, no matter how small, will foster both dreams and opportunity.

This is why I am especially proud of our new focus on housing. We want to be there for every child who longs for a room of their own where childhood can expand gloriously in front of them.

 

Kim Hamilton is president of Island Institute, publisher of The Working Waterfront. She may be contacted at khamilton@islandinstitute.org.