An ADU Called by Any Other Name
A “backyard cottage”-style accessory dwelling unit, or ADU. (Source: Flickr/Sightline Institute.)
Numerous cities across North America grapple with pressing issues concerning housing availability, affordability, and security. These challenges stem from deep-rooted systemic issues and cannot be remedied by simple, universal solutions. Factors such as building products, zoning and building codes, and financing mechanisms all contribute to the complexity of the housing struggle.
Planners across North America have been responding to these challenges by advocating for policies and code reforms aimed at promoting the development of accessory dwelling units (ADUs) in residential neighborhoods. ADUs—smaller independent residential units located on the same lot as a single-family home—represent the next increment of development in scale and a significant step toward addressing housing needs, while preserving neighborhood character. ADUs can be converted portions of existing homes, additions to existing homes, or new or renovated stand-alone structures.
The development of a diverse range of housing options, spanning various scales, is crucial in tackling the housing crisis in our communities. This approach mirrors how generations of people before us provided housing and built cities and towns. In the traditional development pattern, when additional entry-level housing was needed, ground floor units, basements, and rear garages were converted into small apartments. This natural pattern of development began thickening communities across North America.
However, words matter, and I would like to propose that we develop a better name than accessory dwelling unit and its three-letter acronym, ADU. This highly technical term is both cynical and condescending. It is difficult to have pride in your home when your home is described as the accessory to something greater.
Calling a Home an ADU Is Like Calling Coach Seats on an Airplane the “Accessory Seating” to First Class
On an airplane, it is no secret that everyone wants to be in first class. We understand that there are a limited number of these seats available and they are sold at a price unattainable by most. Travelers who are not in first class do not want to be reminded that their seat purchase is less valuable than another seat.
The airline industry understands this and they are creative in the terminology for all of their seating. A premium airline carrier like Delta Airlines describe their most modest seating as the “Main Cabin,” elevating the conditions in which they are offering. Budget airlines, like Southwest, describe their seating as “Open Seating,” where each seat is equal to all. The airline industry understands that customers select their seats based on what they can afford, and they do not want their customers to feel their seat is less important than the ones at the front of the plane.
Housing advocates can learn from the airline industry, and should shift the words they are using to describe a smaller increment of housing. Using terms like accessory dwelling units or acronyms like ADU sound like cheap seats on a plane. These terms are highly technical, which sound great to the professional planners, but sound clinical and cold to the general public. There is nothing aspirational or inspirational when you describe the place you live as accessory to something else.
We Are Trapped in a Broken System
Cities prior to the Suburban Experiment were complex adaptive systems. They emerged from a collection of interacting objects, each of which experience feedback, are free to adapt their strategies based on their experience, and are influenced by their environment. In traditional development, four walls and a roof where people slept was just a house. A small house may be described as a cottage or a starter home. We may even describe a house in its relation to other houses, like an attached house or a townhouse. In an adaptive system, we could aspire to expand or grow our starter house or townhouse over time. These terms describe the character of the house.
The advent of the modern zoning codes have led to the broad adoption of the suburban development pattern. Through highly prescriptive regulations, we are providing instructions that result in communities being built to a finished state, all at once, and frozen in place. These regulations attempt to introduce order through regulatory control.
This highly prescriptive approach has resulted in many different orderly terms for housing, such as primary housing, accessory housing, multi-family housing, etc. These terms describe how we regulate these houses. As a result, an accessory dwelling unit could never grow and adapt over time to be anything but subservient shelter.
The Next Smallest Step Toward Breaking the Cycle Is To Start Using a Different Name
The character of an additional backyard cottage in a deep and narrow lot in Pennsylvania would be much different from an additional residential unit nestled within a house in Taos, New Mexico. The rich, diverse character of North American urbanism should not be squashed down to a simple, nearly derogatory term like accessory dwelling units.
We can be more insightful in the terminology we use to achieve the housing we need. We need to go beyond a clinical textbook definition and review the traditional architectural patterns of our communities. These smaller homes may be described as a backyard cottage, or a caretaker’s house. In communities where families age in place, you might use the term granny flat or in-law suite. In Savannah, these additional units are called carriage homes and in the Southwest, they call these homes casitas.
These terms have historical and cultural significance in these communities, which celebrates traditions handed down through the generations. These terms add value to the real estate and dignity to the housing they provide. There is a level of pride and affluence inherent in bragging about your backyard cottage, or the two carriage homes at the rear of your home.
These terms return to a traditional development pattern rooted in lots of small bets, and these homes, described in terms of what they provide and not how they are regulated, create a familiar connection to the character of our unique communities.
Edward Erfurt is the Director of Community Action at Strong Towns. He is a trained architect and passionate urban designer with over 20 years of public- and private-sector experience focused on the management, design, and successful implementation of development and placemaking projects that enrich the tapestry of place. He believes in community-focused processes that are founded on diverse viewpoints, a concern for equity, and guided through time-tested, traditional town-planning principles and development patterns that result in sustainable growth with the community character embraced by the communities which he serves.