Belonging as Infrastructure: What Families Teach Us About Building Inclusive Communities

Belonging Is a Safety Net, Not a Luxury

When life becomes uncertain, what keeps people steady is often not just grit, but belonging—feeling connected, respected, and able to take part in everyday life. The research paper Understanding social inclusion: A directed content analysis shows that inclusion works like community infrastructure: when it’s strong, families can adapt and recover; when it cracks, stress and isolation spread. Drawing on focus groups and interviews with families in Kingston, Ontario who weathered the COVID-19 pandemic and self-identified as resilient after hardship, the study translates a big idea into practical detail. It asks: Which parts of daily life help people feel they belong, and which subtly push them out?

Using directed content analysis, the researchers compared what families said line by line with an existing framework of social inclusion. Most experiences fit that framework—from education and health care to policies and public transport—but families also pointed out missing pieces and the many ways a system can help and harm at the same time. This matters because initiatives that aim to “promote inclusion” often stay abstract. This research provides a grounded map of the specific levers that make inclusion real, including overlooked basics like public gathering spaces and access to nature, and human essentials like mental health care and the social side of poverty—stigma, shame, and feeling “less than.” In short, the study makes clear that inclusion is not a single program; it’s a web of everyday conditions that shape whether families can stay hopeful and connected.

Where Inclusion Shows Up—and Where It Breaks Down

Families’ stories clustered around eight parts of community life: quality education; innovation and technology; government policies and laws; transportation and infrastructure; employment and organizations; poverty and economy; medical and health; and community and culture. Crucially, each could be both a bridge and a barrier. A school that phoned home with clear updates and offered flexible homework boosted kids’ confidence and parents’ sense of partnership. The same school, however, could exclude when meetings were set during work hours or jargon made parents feel judged.

Technology connected grandparents to grandkids on video calls and allowed telehealth check-ins that saved bus fares and time off work. Yet it also cut people off when data plans ran out or platforms felt confusing. Public transit carried teens to part-time jobs and community centers, but infrequent routes or unsafe stops kept families indoors after dark.

Employment practices mattered: a supervisor who approved flexible shifts helped parents manage remote schooling, whereas unpredictable hours forced families to choose between childcare and a paycheck. In health care, short waits and compassionate providers made people feel seen; long queues or rushed visits did the opposite. Beyond the established framework, families emphasized missing but vital ingredients: informal education (life skills taught through libraries and community workshops), accessible public gathering spaces (parks, community kitchens), contact with nature, the social dimensions of poverty (stigma and isolation, not just low income), and comprehensive mental health care. Overall, families viewed social inclusion as a key driver of resilience—a multiplier that made it easier to cope, adapt, and grow under pressure.

From Systems to Sidewalks: Why Context Makes or Breaks Belonging

The study’s message dovetails with psychological and public health research: resilience is not solely an individual trait; it’s the product of the systems that surround people. Bronfenbrenner’s ecological model suggests that human development is shaped by nested layers—from immediate settings like home and school to broader policies and culture. The families’ accounts show this clearly. A supportive teacher (microsystem) helps a child bounce back after a setback, but that support relies on school resources (organizational level) and budget decisions (policy level). If any layer fails—say, a bus route is cut—everything else has to work harder.

The “double-edged” nature of each domain echoes research on social capital and digital divides. The same network that opens doors for one person can gatekeep another. Technology can widen opportunity or lock it behind passwords, literacy, and costly data plans. The finding that inclusion requires places to gather and access to nature aligns with evidence that green spaces reduce stress, improve mood, and foster casual interactions that build trust. Equally important is the focus on the social dimensions of poverty: shame and perceived judgment can deter people from accessing services, even when they’re technically available. That insight is consistent with stigma research in mental health and poverty studies, which shows that dignity is as protective as dollars.

Finally, the emphasis on mental health care and informal learning expands older inclusion frameworks. It recognizes that feeling competent—knowing how to navigate systems, manage stress, or ask for help—is itself a form of inclusion. In practical terms, these findings push us beyond one-off programs toward a coordinated approach: inclusion is built when everyday touchpoints—from bus schedules and clinic hours to tone of voice at the front desk—signal “you belong here.”

Small Shifts, Big Payoffs: Turning Insight into Inclusive Practice

What can we do with these insights? For policymakers, the research points to investments with compounding benefits: reliable transit in evenings and weekends; safe, well-lit routes; and flexible access to public services (after-hours options, childcare on site). Involve residents in co-design, and test changes with families who face the biggest barriers.

For schools, treat inclusion as a partnership. Offer multiple ways to meet—phone, video, in-person—at varied times. Expand informal education through library-led homework clubs, financial literacy workshops, and parent tech help desks. Celebrate strengths publicly to counter stigma.

For employers, predictability is inclusion. Post schedules earlier, offer flexible start times, and normalize brief mental health breaks. Provide low-cost data vouchers or shared devices for staff who need them. Partner with transit agencies on subsidized passes.

For health systems, build “front doors” that are easy to use: same-day appointments, culturally safe care, and warm handoffs to mental health support. Make telehealth truly accessible with phone-based options (not just apps) and private booths in community centers.

For community organizations, prioritize public gathering spaces and nature: community kitchens, shared gardens, outdoor playgroups, and walking groups. Small, frequent events can restore routine and connection faster than large, infrequent ones.

For individuals, practice “micro-inclusions”: choose meeting times that work for caregivers, send plain-language summaries after discussions, invite the quieter person into the conversation, and rotate who sets the agenda. These small cues of respect reduce stigma and invite participation, especially for those carrying invisible burdens.

Design for Participation by Default

The core takeaway from Understanding social inclusion: A directed content analysis is simple and powerful: inclusion is the everyday design of community life. Families showed that resilience grows when systems are welcoming, flexible, and human. If each domain—schools, workplaces, transit, health care, public spaces—asks “Who’s left out by how we currently operate?” and then adjusts, belonging becomes a feature, not a favor.

The next step is a practical one: choose a single touchpoint—clinic hours, bus stops, parent-teacher meeting times, hiring practices—and redesign it so more people can say “this place is for me.” If we built communities with participation as the default setting, how much stress could we prevent before it starts?

Data in this article is provided by PLOS.

Tagged Age groups, Children, Economics, Education, Employment, Epidemiology, Families, Health care, Human families, Labor economics, Mental health and psychiatry, Pandemics, Population groupings, Public and occupational health, Schools, Socioeconomic aspects of health, Sociology, Transportation