Suburban Life and Consumer Culture

For a while, I’ve been on a journey against consumerism, so this wasn’t my first encounter with the topic. Over the past year, my reading list has included titles like Made in China: A Prisoner, an SOS Letter, and the Hidden Cost of America's Cheap Goods and Worn Out: How Our Clothes Cover Up Fashion's Sins. Even lighter reads like Wonderhell: Why Success Doesn't Feel Like It Should and Never Enough: When Achievement Culture Becomes Toxic found their way into my hands—much to the amusement of my friends.

Reflecting on my past, I realize I wasn't always this way. During my teenage years, I spent countless hours at the mall, both as an employee and a shopper. As a young librarian, I made it a point to dress to impress. My husband and I welcomed children who seemed to require an endless supply of gear upon their arrival, and I quickly became "that mom," perpetually hunting for free-shipping deals online.

When we transitioned from our urban starter home to a suburban colonial, we found ourselves overwhelmed by material possessions and financial strain, which began to take a toll on my mental health.

Finding Minimalism

In search of solutions, I turned to self-help literature and stumbled upon minimalism. The notion that having fewer possessions could lead to reduced stress resonated deeply with me. We spent years decluttering, and shortly after getting rid of Baby #3's items, we discovered we were expecting again. Nevertheless, I proved to myself that I didn't require excess possessions; I opted for stretchy clothes instead of maternity wear and sourced only essential baby items second-hand.

Yet, as our needs multiplied—home renovations, a new minivan, baseball cleats for the older kids—stress and clutter accumulated. To make ends meet without incurring daycare costs, my husband and I worked opposite shifts, pushing ourselves to the limit. We began to feel crushed under the weight of suburban expectations.

Pandemic Insights

The pandemic, unexpectedly, provided a much-needed respite—not just for us, but for MacKinnon as well. He notes that when he began writing, the thought of global consumption declining by 25% seemed far-fetched. Yet, the pandemic demonstrated that it could happen, transforming lives, beliefs, and future outlooks—including my own.

Suddenly, my family was gifted with what we'd been yearning for: time. While my husband’s new job was postponed, my role in education also paused. We filled our days with neighborhood walks, board games, baking, and enjoying the sounds of nature, all while cozied up on our back deck.

We no longer felt the pressure to impress others or acquire new things. We were fortunate to have enough. I acknowledge my privilege in this situation.

As MacKinnon illustrates throughout his book, the dramatic drop in consumption was not without its challenges. Many faced job losses and financial difficulties; it was far from a utopian scenario. However, it did illuminate alternative lifestyles and offered a chance to rethink how we allocate our resources.

Seeking Congruence

Fall 2020 was tough for my family. Both my son and I battled anxiety and depression while trying to adapt to online learning. My husband faced grueling work hours that left him drained.

It wasn't until I reached Chapter 18 that MacKinnon provided the term for what we were experiencing: incongruence. He describes it as "a psychological gap" between our perceived obligations and actual behaviors. We felt a disconnect, understanding that change was necessary.

My husband chose to leave his job and pursue self-employment to be more present with the kids while I returned to work. We began homeschooling, and I started writing daily to clarify my thoughts, eventually sharing my experiences online to connect with others. This journey led us to experience a sense of congruence that felt liberating.

The Path to Simplification

In the final chapters of his book, MacKinnon doesn't provide a simple list of ways to reduce consumption; instead, he shares stories of individuals who opted for a simpler lifestyle. He explains that the more materialistic a person is, the wider the gap between their ideal and actual selves. In contrast, those who embrace simplicity often experience a smaller gap, leading to greater authenticity.

This part of the book ignited my imagination about what a simpler life could entail. I pictured myself in a cozy cabin with a minimalist kitchen and a reading nook filled with books, gardening while my children explored the woods, and enjoying tranquil nights under the stars.

However, MacKinnon’s work isn't a fantasy; it's a thought-provoking exploration grounded in research and real-life examples. He acknowledges the challenges of consuming less and encourages readers to remain realistic. In fact, he confesses that focusing on reducing shopping led him to invest more in high-quality, sustainable items.

I set aside my idyllic vision and took a closer look at my current life. Admittedly, my dream cabin is a privileged fantasy. I realize that I take for granted the conveniences I have, and my home is well-suited for our family of six. Though we live in a suburban area filled with shopping centers, our property backs up to a serene lake.

Living Intentionally

I can draw inspiration from MacKinnon’s insights without completely uprooting my life. It’s not an all-or-nothing proposition. I can choose to delete social media apps and ignore marketing aimed at inciting desire. I can appreciate what I have instead of yearning for what I lack. By caring for my belongings, fixing them when they break, and thoughtfully considering what I introduce into my life, I can simplify while adding value.

I can align my focus with the present rather than fixating on future desires. I engage in fulfilling hobbies—reading, writing, walking the dogs, practicing yoga. Gardening is an option I could explore if I choose.

I won’t look into my closet, overwhelmed by choice, and mistakenly think I need more clothes. I’ll reuse glass jars despite my mother’s disapproval. I’ll balance my ambitions with nights spent enjoying the company of loved ones on our back deck.

MacKinnon emphasizes that choosing a simple life isn’t synonymous with an easy one. I already feel like an outsider in my community because my children aren’t involved in organized sports and prefer not to join local clubs. I avoid sugar and processed foods and engage deeply in topics like philosophy and sexuality, which often leaves me feeling out of place at social gatherings.

Embracing Authenticity

Books like MacKinnon’s empower me to transcend judgment and isolation. I read these texts to find motivation for living authentically. Being countercultural doesn't mean I don't need community; rather, it necessitates seeking out like-minded individuals who support my journey. It requires developing the confidence to express my truth unapologetically.

Yes, contemplating the future is daunting. I join MacKinnon in envisioning what life might look like 150 years from now. Will we embrace a lifestyle that minimizes shopping, relying on eco-friendly technologies and sustainable practices? Or will we succumb to a future dominated by technology, where social interactions happen in virtual realms, and stress is managed by pharmaceuticals?

Alternatively, will we see a continuation of today’s consumer-driven suburban existence, with delivery trucks crisscrossing the landscape and social media narratives shaping our realities?

This thought experiment can be overwhelming. Instead, I choose to focus on the present. By striving for congruence and embracing my authentic self, I hope to make a difference—however small. I dream that if everyone adopted this mindset, we might create a ripple effect of positive change.

The first video, The Day the World Stops Shopping, explores the implications of cutting consumption and its potential benefits for both the environment and society.

The second video, The Day The World Stops Shopping, continues the discussion on consumerism and offers insights into leading a simpler life.

Mackinnon, J B. The Day the World Stops Shopping: How Ending Consumerism Saves the Environment and Ourselves. New York, NY, Ecco, 2021.

This piece was crafted by Anna Eliza Rose, a librarian by day and a writer in her spare time, all while juggling the activities of her four children. If you enjoyed this article, be sure to check out her other works.