Before dinner even began, it was obvious there was something special about Village Hearth. Residents of the LGBTQ+ affirming senior cohousing community in Durham had been asked to bring bowls for the evening meal, but several people forgot.
Within minutes, neighbors were heading back to their homes and returning with extra bowls, anticipating that others may have forgotten theirs as well. Soon there was an abundance of dishes. The moment lasted only a few minutes, but it offered a glimpse into the culture residents have spent years building.
At Village Hearth people frequently talk about “stepping up.” When someone needs help, neighbors do not wait to be asked. They simply step up.
Margaret Roesch and her wife Pat McAulay are credited as the founders of Village Hearth, a cohousing community for LGBTQ+ older adults and their allies located in Durham, North Carolina.
The neighborhood consists of 28 homes arranged around pathways, gardens and a centrally located common house. The colorful cottages feel more coastal than suburban. Front porches face one another. Cars – when not in use – remain parked on the property perimeter.
“The parking lot is a bit of a walk, but that is on purpose,” explained Janet Svoboda during a Village Hearth monthly Zoom meet and greet. “In a cohousing community you don’t just pull into your driveway, wave at your neighbors and disappear behind the garage door. You talk to your neighbors. You help them with groceries. You know each other.”
The communal space or common house features shared amenities, including a gourmet kitchen, craft room, small library, guest room and a laundry room. Residents decorate the communal areas with their personal art collections, making everyone feel at home.
Cohousing living designs encourage connection, but the founders of Village Hearth didn’t set out to create an architectural experiment. They were looking for something many LGBTQ+ people spend a lifetime searching for: a place where they could belong without explanation.
Before launching Village Hearth, the couple visited other cohousing communities. They often found welcoming people and good intentions, but they also encountered a familiar experience. “When they found out we were a lesbian couple, it’s like, ‘Oh, well, we have a nice lesbian couple,’” Roesch recalled.
The comments were intended to be welcoming, but they reinforced a reality many LGBTQ+ people know well. Queer people were welcome, but often as exceptions to the norm. “We didn’t want to be the token,” Roesch said.
Instead, with a group of like-minded people, the couple imagined a neighborhood centered around LGBTQ+ people and their allies.
That vision has resonated with many of the people who have moved to Village Hearth. Several residents said their interest in cohousing and queer community coincided with Donald Trump’s first election. For many, it prompted questions about aging in isolation and concerns over their mental health and physical safety.
The project officially launched in 2015. Residents began moving in during 2020. That timing turned out to be both terrible and strangely fitting. The community’s first year coincided with the height of the COVID-19 pandemic.
People arrived from a dozen different states, many leaving behind careers, friends, family members and familiar support systems. They moved into a brand-new neighborhood only to discover that gathering indoors was suddenly unsafe.
During that time, the common house sat largely unused. Neighborhood meetings happened on sidewalks six feet apart and over Zoom. Masks covered faces. Yet the residents found ways to navigate the uncertainty.
Looking back, residents say the experience feels symbolic. Village Hearth was never going to be about avoiding difficult things. It was always going to require people willing to work through problems together.
“We’ve experienced a lot of first generation problems,” said Svoboda. “Like a marriage, there’s a difference between going out on a date and liking each other versus starting a business or living together. We must communicate in ways that we aren’t encouraged to in society.”
That work remains a defining feature of life at Village Hearth. Residents serve on teams responsible for everything from maintenance and landscaping to finances, outreach and governance. Most contribute between 10 and 30 hours each month to the operation of the neighborhood.
Several residents emphasized that people don’t move to Village Hearth for the house. They are choosing a lifestyle centered on participation, shared responsibility and mutual support. Every resident will tell you, “We’re selling community and we throw in a house.”
That choice also comes with a significant financial commitment. Village Hearth is not subsidized housing. Homes cost more than $300,000, even for the community’s smaller one-bedroom units. Residents acknowledge that cost has influenced who has been able to move there.
Despite outreach to local Black churches, LGBTQ+ organizations and other groups, the neighborhood remains predominantly populated by white professionals who are lesbians or straight allies. Several residents said they hope future cohousing developments can become accessible to a more diverse range of people.
The reality of cohousing is often more complicated than the ideal. Kathy O’Craven, a research cognitive neuroscientist from Toronto, said cohousing works best for people willing to embrace compromise. “Cohousing is fantastic for the right people,” she said. “It gives you the opportunity to make your corner of the world better.”
Over the past year, residents participated in months of training focused on nonviolent communication and conflict resolution. Village Hearth uses sociocracy, a governance model that emphasizes participation, transparency in voting and shared decision-making. Residents navigate disagreements about governance and neighborhood life by having value driven conversations.
When expressing their point-of-view they ask each other, “Is this good for the community?” The goal is not unanimity. “We’re looking for the best solution, but we’re also looking for something that everybody can live with,” O’Craven said.
Many residents believe their cohousing lessons extend beyond their neighborhood. Village Hearth asks people to practice skills that can feel increasingly uncommon in modern life: listening, compromise, accountability and staying engaged without abandoning one another.
Kirstin Chervenak and her wife Leila Faucette laughed when asked about how the community handles disagreements. They repeated what other residents had already said, “Everything is another fucking opportunity for personal growth.”
Though they joked, it was obvious that the community members all held the belief that good relationships must be tended to.
Before finding Village Hearth, Michal Schaffer had the opportunity to witness what happens when intentional communities stop investing in communication. She visited an Arizona cohousing community that was “coming apart at the seams.”
“They were definitely out of their honeymoon phase,” explained Schaffer. “You have to work at cohousing.” She went on to explain, “They stopped gathering for communal dinners and meetings.”
Shortly after moving to Durham, Schaffer needed two lengthy medical procedures at Duke. Hospital rules required someone to remain with her for hours during the procedures. She barely knew her Village Hearth neighbors, but to her surprise three people volunteered to stay with her.
“That’s when I knew that cohousing was where I needed to be at this point in my life,” she said. The experience changed how she thought about aging. “I knew that if I didn’t wake up in the morning … somebody’s going to check on me.”
For older adults, especially LGBTQ+ older adults whose support networks may not follow traditional family structures, that reassurance carries enormous weight.
Several people described the relief of living among people who are invested in understanding one another rather than simply being understood themselves. At Village Hearth, residents openly discuss their spouses, partners and families. Couples hold hands in public. Neighbors talk at 3 a.m. and hug during walks with their dogs. Pride flags are everywhere.
One resident described the freedom of living in a place where she no longer feels the need to remain unconsciously on guard. Another spoke about the weight that lifts when you stop wondering whether a casual conversation about your partner will change the way people see you. That sense of safety extends beyond LGBTQ+ identity.
Village Hearth developed a culture of collective responsibility during the pandemic that continues today. Residents are not required to vaccinate or mask, but many choose precautions that protect vulnerable neighbors. Community members frequently described an expectation that people consider how their choices affect others before themselves.
The same ethic appears in everyday interactions. During the community dinner, a resident recovering from a hospital stay stopped by with his wife to say hello. Because his immune system remained compromised, he did not stay for the meal.
Residents stood clapping. Others called out greetings from across the room. Air hugs replaced physical embraces. Neighbors yelled, “We missed you,” and, “We’re so glad you’re home.”
The exchange lasted only a few moments, but it illustrated what many residents find both typical and extraordinary about life at Village Hearth.
Many residents appear to be the kind of people who would be good neighbors anywhere. Most were volunteering before they moved to cohousing. Many were already politically engaged. They shared stories of showing up for friends, family members and causes they cared about before finding this new community. Village Hearth did not create those instincts. It concentrated them.
Yet no one at Village Hearth is drowning in nostalgia. They are not trying to recreate the past. They are building something intentional and inclusive.
Tina Copeland, who moved from Chicago, said cohousing entered her life when she began prioritizing her own happiness and well-being. Eventually she found a community where she belonged. “I want to tell people not to wait,” she said. “Do it now.”
Residents of Village Hearth are often the first to acknowledge this way of life is not for everyone, however. It requires a lot of compromise, participation and a willingness to share responsibility for the well-being of others.
“I hoped that there would be people here who want to live next to each other, who want to be here having coffee with each other, who want to laugh,” said Roesch.
For Roesch and others who call Village Hearth home, their hopes and dreams have come true: a place where LGBTQ+ people belong and where they step up for one another in a community where love is not simply a feeling, but a daily practice.
For more details on Village Hearth, visit their website at https://www.villagehearthcohousing.com.
