Convenience Kills Community...
Boycotts of major retailers raise important questions: Does the pursuit of convenience come at the expense of community? When everything is just a click away, are we sacrificing more than we realize?
Convenience has become a hallmark of the modern age. As society evolves, ease and accessibility continue to shape our daily lives. Gone are the days when we had to grow our own food or sew our own clothes—we can simply buy what we need. The same goes for entertainment: no longer do we have to make the trek to a theater to catch the latest movie; with streaming services and food delivery apps, we can enjoy a meal and a film from the comfort of our own homes. We walk around with forms of entertainment in our pockets, or even in our hands with our eyes glued to our phone screens.Purchasing items has become far more convenient than producing them ourselves. Paying a little extra for delivery is a small price to pay for that convenience, something we’ve come to expect. With a quick search on Amazon, almost anything can appear on your doorstep by the next day. We've built a culture around the idea that time and ease are valuable commodities.
Let’s Digest!
Your Starter
Recently, many individuals are taking steps to shift away from a consumption-driven society. As large retailers scale back their Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion programs and Fortune 500 CEOs publicly align with political policies and figures, consumers are increasingly feeling a societal divide. The intersection of power dynamics and politics underscores the reality that, for many business leaders, profit and power remain the primary focus—often at the expense of their customers. This has led consumers to reframe how they use their economic influence. If money is the driving force behind much of the world, then it’s clear that this is the battlefield where the "revolution" must take place, with consumers using their purchasing power to make a political statement.
Are You Ready for Your Main Course?
As consumption habits shift in response to political action, I've come to realize that the true opposite of consumerism is community. For example, if you have a friend with a KitchenAid Mixer, why not borrow it for the few times a year you actually bake, instead of buying one that sits unused on your counter for the other 362 days? Consumerism thrives on hyperindividualism and convenience. Let’s be honest—dealing with other people and their schedules often makes it easier to just buy something than to ask to borrow it. In the short term, it’s simpler to order a mixer off Amazon than to send out an "ISO" (In Search Of) request, arrange a time to pick it up, and then return it. Convenience has become something we’re conditioned to pay for, no matter the cost. As a result, many of us end up purchasing items we could easily borrow, simply because it feels easier and quicker in the moment.
If we have a strong community we don't need to uber to the airport everytime, Amazon Prime becomes more and more obsolete and we have people in our lives that believe in reciprocated action - without keeping a score card. People who “love people and use things and not the other way around”.
This also extends to our physical communities, where many of us are increasingly disconnected from our neighbors and neighborhoods. Maybe the neighbor next door has the electric screwdriver I need for a quick job, or there’s a local cobbler who can repair my shoes instead of me buying a new pair. Perhaps I can get the shirt I ordered online tailored to fit, rather than sending it back.
Shopping in person does more than just support retail and employment; it encourages more mindful consumption. It’s an opportunity to try things before committing to a purchase and truly consider whether it’s something we need.
When you don't have to leave the house to buy, it becomes easier to consume mindlessly. With apps like Instacart, you can have groceries delivered without carrying them up and down subway stairs, and you don’t even need to remember to bring bags. When shopping in person, you’re faced with a visual reminder of what you’re buying, and often, as you stand in line, you’ll take a moment to reconsider your purchases. It’s a time when people examine their carts and question, "Do I really need this?" We’ve all heard parents pleading with their kids, "Okay, just pick ONE toy." It’s normal to put things back at checkout. But shopping online digitizes that process, stripping away those tactile moments of reflection. The only limitation is your budget—not how much you can carry or the time spent reconsidering your purchase in person.
Of course, these digital methods of consumption do offer valuable benefits—allowing people to get groceries for their elderly parents or connect us to products and services without geographical limitations. However in our society in order to have access to convenience you must have capital.
When you withhold your capital, you lose that convenience. So, how do you meet your needs and wants? Through community.
You can choose to Uber to work every day, or you can carpool with a co-worker. Outsourcing tasks in exchange for money works well for the economy and has its perks, but the returns on that convenience are often limited. Personally, the convenience of Amazon Prime and my lack of self control has caused immense clutter,overconsumption and makes it nearly impossible to get and stay organized. In contrast, building a community creates an ecosystem that sustains itself, providing mutual support and benefits in the long run. It's an interconnected system that can offer more lasting value than the transactional nature of pure consumerism.Rather than purchasing items I only need temporarily, I can borrow them, and in return, lend out the things I own and use regularly. This cycle of sharing not only minimizes waste but also fosters a sense of community, trust, and mutual support.
This phenomenon isn’t merely a byproduct of the digital age or a consequence of consumer behavior—it’s part of a long-standing, deliberate effort to drive economic activity by promoting and incentivizing consumption. One of the most compelling examples that intertwines consumption with community is housing.
Your Side Dish
In the 20th century, policies were used to shift American views on family, narrowing the definition of what it meant to be a family. Unlike other cultures, the idea of the nuclear family—consisting of parents and children—was not always the norm in America.
Multigenerational living was much more common before the early 20th century, with adult children often staying in the family home and living with what we now consider "extended family." There was a strategic effort to make mortgages more readily available, encouraging adults to move out on their own — marketed as an essential ingredient to achieving the American Dream. By truncating the concept of family, it became easier to shift American culture toward individualism, and thus single-family homeownership rather than multigenerational living.
This shift highlights how community, convenience, and consumerism have all been influenced by these policies. In terms of community, multigenerational households were more connected to their homes, which were often passed down through generations. The home became a shared resource, and family bonds were stronger, creating a sense of continuity and mutual support. However, as families became smaller and more dispersed, that sense of connection weakened. When younger generations move into their own homes, it’s less likely that the family home will remain in the family, and familial ties to a particular place become less significant.
In terms of convenience, the push toward individual homeownership has made it easier to prioritize personal convenience over communal living. With the availability of mortgages and the cultural push toward owning a single-family home, people began to see convenience as having their own space—free from the complexities of living with extended family. The ease of obtaining a mortgage, alongside the notion of independence, further cemented individualism as the ideal, rather than the interdependence that comes with multigenerational living.
As for consumerism, this shift has contributed to an increase in material consumption. More households mean more homes, more furniture, more appliances, and more goods to fill them. The desire for ownership has expanded beyond homes to all the possessions that come with them. Each new household requires a range of items—kitchen equipment, paint, and furniture, creating a constant demand for products. Consumerism thrives in this environment, as owning more things becomes a symbol of success and independence, and the culture of convenience reinforces the idea that personal ownership is the ultimate goal.
Ultimately, the transformation from multigenerational living to a focus on individual homeownership and convenience has driven a culture of increased consumerism and reduced community connection. This shift has redefined the American dream, linking it more closely with individual consumption and material ownership than with the shared, multigenerational bonds that once defined family life.
The Final Bite for Dessert
This shift toward hyperindividuality is further reinforced by the rise of digital consumerism, where personal ownership is prioritized over shared resources. The same cultural forces that encouraged nuclear family living over multigenerational households now manifest in our daily consumption habits—whether it’s choosing to own rather than borrow, or outsourcing tasks instead of relying on our communities. Technology has amplified this mindset, making it easier to fulfill our needs independently at the tap of a button rather than engaging in communal reciprocity. Convenience culture has conditioned us to prioritize personal ease over collective effort, reinforcing a cycle where material goods replace human connection. As homes have become more private and self-contained, so too have our lifestyles, further isolating individuals from their neighbors and eroding the interdependence that once sustained strong communities. Hyperconsumerism isn’t just about buying more—it’s about replacing shared experiences with transactional ones, a phenomenon that has transformed not only how we consume but how we live.
Let me tell you this realization was quite hard for me to come by. Plain and simple I don't like to share MY stuff. I’m okay with household items like a mixer or community things, but anything that is MINE - hell no. I’m chopping this up to being a third child that always had to stake my territory. I likely won't change on that front, but I acknowledge that I have work to do lol. Despite the hurdles I’ll have to cross, this realization is important - reclaiming community in an era of hyperindividualism and hyperconsumerism requires a conscious shift in how we view ownership, convenience, and connection. The same way consumer culture was deliberately shaped over time, we have the power to reshape it by prioritizing shared resources, fostering interdependence, and redefining success beyond material accumulation. Whether it’s borrowing instead of buying, supporting local businesses, or embracing multigenerational living, these small but intentional choices push back against the isolation of modern convenience. True wealth isn’t found in the sheer number of things we own but in the strength of our relationships and the communities we build. By choosing collaboration over consumption, we move toward a more sustainable and connected way of living—one that values people over possessions and long-term fulfillment over fleeting transactions.
Thanks for Consuming!
Phia
“Each Day Gets Better”
https://carolinaangles.com/2020/11/04/housing-the-nuclear-family/
https://rebekkalee.medium.com/the-nuclear-family-isnt-working-3c8334985a59
https://www.rubyhome.com/blog/homeownership-stats/
Love this so much. Thanks for writing