Published Friday, June 13, 2025
Remember when you had a place to be outside of home or school? For me, it was the public library. Not because I loved reading (though I did) but because it was a third place – a space where I could be myself and explore.
Back then, there was a time when kids would hang out at the skate park after school. Or maybe it was the local recreation center, the arcade, the food court at the mall. Even if they weren’t doing anything particularly productive, those community sites gave them something intangible yet incredibly important: freedom, belonging, and a sense of safety outside home or school.
When teens lose everyday access to public libraries, we’re not just closing doors to books—we’re losing access to connection, growth, and belonging.
When teens lose everyday access to public libraries, we’re not just closing doors to books—we’re losing access to connection, growth, and belonging.
But over time, as these public spaces disappeared or became harder to access, the next generation has increasingly turned to digital alternatives. The shift from parks and community centers to screens and online communities has changed how young people gather, interact, and build identity—and not always for the better.
Sociologists call them “third places” or “third spaces. These are locations outside of home (the first place) and school or work (the second place) where people can simply be. For teens, third spaces were once the backdrop for some of their most memorable life lessons—real and imagined places that supported mental health, social interaction, and a sense of community.
Scenes like this in many central parks reflect what’s at stake: the quiet power of shared locations where friends gather, grow, and feel part of something bigger.
Scenes like this in many central parks reflect what’s at stake: the quiet power of shared locations where friends gather, grow, and feel part of something bigger.
They weren’t structured like classrooms or measured by achievements. They were informal, easily accessible, and open to anyone—spaces that facilitated social interaction, sparked human connection, and invited kids to grow without pressure.
Without their own third place, many teens today are missing an essential part of everyday life. They’re not just losing out on fun—they’re losing chances to build social skills, develop relationships, and experience community building in public and semi-public spaces.
Here’s what teens once gained from these spaces:
But these third spaces didn’t vanish overnight. Many were closed, underfunded, or turned into commercial establishments.
And that leads to a bigger question: What does the disappearance of third places say about American culture—and how we’re shaping our kids’ futures?
A sign like this may seem minor, but it reveals how public spaces are increasingly designed to limit teen presence instead of inviting meaningful connections.
A sign like this may seem minor, but it reveals how public spaces are increasingly designed to limit teen presence instead of inviting meaningful connections.
Over time, the spaces that once welcomed teens began to disappear. Some vanished due to rising rents and changing economies—coffee shops closed, community centers lost funding, and public libraries reduced hours or staff. Others became harder to reach, especially in residential areas without reliable transportation or in places where teens were seen more as threats than participants in public life.
Even once-welcoming public spaces like parks now feel over-regulated or quietly hostile. Teens gather and are quickly labeled as loiterers. Some cities have passed ordinances making it harder for young people to hang out in groups, especially without adult supervision. And yet, adults wonder why the next generation prefers to stay online.
These changes reflect deeper shifts in American culture. As a society, we’ve prioritized productivity, commercial growth, and efficiency—often at the expense of community and connection. We’ve replaced open, casual meeting spots with monitored, monetized zones. Built environments now focus more on what’s profitable than on what teens need for social growth.
And so, where do kids go?
More and more, the answer is: online.
When the second place feels transactional and the third disappears, the phone becomes a lifeline. But no screen can replace time with a real person.
When the second place feels transactional and the third disappears, the phone becomes a lifeline. But no screen can replace time with a real person.
Today’s teens spend more time in online communities than at the parks, arcades, or community centers their parents once loved. And while the virtual world can offer connection, creativity, and a sense of freedom, it also comes with trade-offs.
Yes, teens can find support groups, discover different cultures, and join spaces built around shared interests online. These digital platforms can help kids explore identity and feel seen. In fact, 74% of teens say social media makes them feel closer to their friends, and 63% say it lets them express themselves.
But here’s the catch: online communities are not the same as real-life ones. These third spaces aren’t built on human conversations or quiet moments with a familiar face. They’re powered by algorithms that push what gets the most clicks—not what builds true connection.
Likes and follows aren’t the same as real friendships. When we lost places to be together, we lost the best way to know and care about a real person.
Likes and follows aren’t the same as real friendships. When we lost places to be together, we lost the best way to know and care about a real person.
That means teens aren’t just being themselves online—they’re performing. Many dream of becoming influencers, building a following, and making money by being popular on social media. Their posts become less about having fun with friends and more about chasing views, likes, and shares. It turns social time into a job. And that pressure to always look perfect and act exciting can make it hard to know who you really are.
What was once about community building now feels more like a race for attention.
Even worse, the endless scroll never stops. There’s no safe environment where you can take a breath and talk face-to-face. The social environment online is non-stop, where being “off” feels like falling behind.
Teens aren’t just losing parks—they’re losing people skills. Real-life locations like mall and arcade helped them build relationships and feel part of society.
Teens aren’t just losing parks—they’re losing people skills. Real-life locations like mall and arcade helped them build relationships and feel part of society.
The virtual world isn’t all bad—online communities offer real connections. But teens are missing the growth that comes from face-to-face experiences, which support mental health, social skills, and overall well being. Unlike real places like parks, community centers, or coffee shops, digital third spaces often lack warmth and spontaneity. And as these third spaces disappear, we’re seeing the emotional cost in how teens feel and interact.
When we talk to teens today, many of them express the same feelings:
These aren’t just one-off comments—they reflect a deeper shift in their social environment.
In a recent survey, roughly half of teens (48%) say social media sites like Instagram and Facebook have a mostly negative effect on people their age, up from 32% in 2022.
Public locations used to give teens a way to engage, unplug, and just be. Without these second places, we're losing vital space for connection, development, and public health.
Public locations used to give teens a way to engage, unplug, and just be. Without these second places, we're losing vital space for connection, development, and public health.
In physical third spaces, teens would naturally learn how to read facial expressions, resolve arguments, and even enjoy simple social contact like sitting next to a familiar face without needing to speak.
These moments supported their emotional development, mental health, and well-being—without being scheduled or structured.
But in the absence of safe, easily accessible gathering places, many teens now grow up navigating life mostly in digital echo chambers.
And while those online communities may offer connection, they can’t fully replicate the slow, steady confidence-building that happens in the built environment of physical spaces.
Teens need real places, not more apps. Parks and playgrounds offer safe, social locations that build friendships, support public health, and help people engage beyond the screen.
Teens need real places, not more apps. Parks and playgrounds offer safe, social locations that build friendships, support public health, and help people engage beyond the screen.
This isn’t about banning phones or blaming the virtual world. Technology isn’t the enemy—but balance is key. Rebuilding third spaces is part of restoring what’s been lost for teen well-being.
We can start by asking: where in our built environment can teens go that’s safe, easily accessible, and unstructured? If that list feels short, it’s time to get creative.
Maybe it’s reimagining school as a place where students can also relax and spend time after hours. Maybe it’s investing in teen-only hours at community centers, recreation centers, and public libraries. Maybe it’s listening more—to what teens need, where they feel welcome, and how we can build community around them.
Communities thrive when teens have a sense of belonging, a place to be their full selves. Whether it’s through shared interests, a familiar face, or just space to breathe, these third places don’t just support social skills—they protect public health and make space for real, lasting relationships.
We don’t need to turn back time. But we do need to recognize what’s missing and why it matters. Because even in a world full of online communities, teens still crave human connection, unscripted moments, and the freedom to just exist.
So let’s make room again—for coffee shops, parks, and the “nowhere” places that actually meant everything. Let’s make sure today’s teens have more than just scroll holes. Let’s give them a third place they can truly call their own.
LaTia Taylor
To me, a meaningful life is one where curiosity and calm can coexist. You’ll usually find me outside sunbathing, in a yoga class, or getting a good workout in, and just as often curled up at home with a book, some colored pencils, and a cup of tea. I believe life’s better when we keep learning and even better when we share what we’ve learned. Whether it’s a little wisdom, a new idea, or just something that makes you think, I love passing it on.
Type 8 Challenger / INFJ Advocate
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