Housing is critical but housing alone is not enough. What makes the Island home is not just the roofs over our heads, but the life that happens beneath them. A thriving community is built on more than housing — it’s built on walking trails, child care, affordable supports and a way of life that we all share. And that way of life depends on having all kinds of people here: young and old, neurotypical and neurodivergent, wealthy and working-class. Community is diversity, and diversity is what gives our Island its soul.

And yet, even when it comes to affordable housing policy, some of our neighbors are left out. State law requires that 25 per cent of affordable housing be reserved for people with disabilities, but the definition of “disability” only covers physical, hearing or sight impairments. People with intellectual and developmental disabilities are excluded from that calculation. Their needs are every bit as real and urgent, and when policy overlooks them, they are pushed further to the margins of a community they should be fully part of.

At a recent fundraiser, one patron captured it perfectly. They said we should support housing not just so waiters and landscapers can serve the summer community — though that work is vital to our economy — but because if that is all we become, a wealthy seasonal enclave with staff housing, then why would we all stay? Why would our children choose to build their futures here? What binds us to this place is not merely its economy, but its soul.

That soul is fueled by the nonprofits, schools and community groups that make the Island more than just a vacation spot. It lives in the burger booth at the Fair, in the trails at Sheriff’s Meadow, in a kayak paddle at Felix Neck, in the simple fact that we know and care for one another across differences.

These are the ties that root us here and the reasons we call this place home.

So as we push forward with affordable housing, let’s not forget what we are really trying to preserve: a way of life, a community where everyone belongs, and the rich fabric of people and experiences that make our Island worth living in year-round. In short, let’s keep the band together.

Kate Devane

Executive director, Island Autism.