08/20/2026
We say that people with intellectual and developmental disabilities live in the community, but sometimes we make sure everybody in the community can spot exactly where they live. It isn't just the notices taped to the front door. It's the enormous brightly coloured commercial bins lined up on the driveway. It's the company van parked outside with the provider's name emblazoned across it. It's the staff notices, the smoking rules, the office furniture, the locked cupboards and the rooms that look as though nobody quite lives in them. It's the absence of family photographs, favourite chairs, half-finished hobbies, odd ornaments and all the ordinary clutter that quietly says, “Someone lives here.” Taken one at a time, these things can seem insignificant. Taken together, they can turn a house into something that looks and feels like a service.
And that has consequences. A home doesn't stop being institutional simply because it is smaller and sits on an ordinary street. When the building, the vehicles, the furnishings and the routines advertise the service before they reveal the people, the neighbourhood learns to see a “group home” rather than someone's home. People with intellectual disabilities fought to leave institutions behind; we shouldn't recreate the institution in miniature. A home should tell us something about the people who live there, their tastes, their interests, their mess, their choices, their lives. Not about the organization paid to support them.
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ID: Title reads: Spot the group home.Picture A: A brown wooden outside door to a home. Small trees are on the sides of the door.
Picture B. Door with many different signs plastered on and around it. Signs include “Designated Smoking Area”, “Notice to Visitors” and “Oxygen in Use”.
Photo B. is from an article about maltreatment, neglect and death at Minnesota group homes. Read more about that here: https://www.mprnews.org/story/2026/08/19/minnesotas-group-homes-how-did-we-get-here Photo by Ben Hovland | MPR News
