Finding Belonging in Housing Studies

For as long as I can remember, I’ve introduced myself as a “non-traditional housing researcher.” It has become part of my academic identity, a way of explaining that my journey into housing studies didn’t follow what I’ve always thought of as the conventional route. I didn’t study a housing course, come from social policy or sociology, or even take the most direct path into the field. Instead, my background stretches across organisational psychology, research and evaluation practice, gradually weaving itself into housing.

But each time I describe myself this way, I’m struck by what the phrase carries. Non-traditional implies that there is a standard mould of housing scholar against which I am positioning myself as somehow outside or other. It hints at a boundary I’m not quite inside — or perhaps, a boundary I’ve drawn around myself.

When I pause to reflect, though, I see that housing studies has never been a narrow discipline. Its strength lies in its interdisciplinarity. Housing is not simply a policy issue, nor only a question of economics or law. It is deeply entangled with health, psychology, design, culture, safety, and justice. To study housing is to open a door to multiple disciplines and ways of knowing.

So why do I still feel the need to justify myself as non-traditional?

Part of it, I think, is about belonging. Invisible lines shape academic fields: the courses we study, the institutions and departments we join, the conferences we attend. When we don’t fit neatly into those patterns, it can feel as though we’re standing at the edges. Using the label non-traditional has been my way of acknowledging that difference, while still trying to signal belonging.

I remember my first Housing Studies Association conference, when I was still working for a private landlord membership organisation. That made me feel out of place: I wasn’t only coming from a different disciplinary background, but also from a role not typically associated with housing academia. And yet, what struck me was the welcoming spirit of the community. Colleagues like Beth Watts, Helen Taylor, Kim McKee, and Jenny Hoolachan went out of their way to encourage me and to help me feel at home. 

Over the years, I’ve come to realise that belonging in housing studies is not about fitting a mould. It’s about the collaborations we foster, the questions we ask, and the ways our work can help understand and improve housing in all its complexity. My path, with its different doors and disciplines, is no less valid; it is part of the richness that makes this field so vital.

I know many others have felt what I once felt, that quiet question of whether they really belong. To them I would say: you do. If your work engages with housing in any form, whether through policy, practice, lived experience, or theory, you are part of this community. The diversity of our perspectives is not a weakness to be managed, but the very thing that makes housing studies vital.

As the Housing Studies Association has grown, I’ve been heartened to see more colleagues from “non-conventional” backgrounds bring their work into our shared space. But growth brings responsibility. It is not enough to keep the doors open, we must also nurture a culture where differences in training, writing, and approach are recognised as strengths, not deficits.

Perhaps it is time to reframe. I am not a “non-traditional housing researcher.” I am a housing researcher who has arrived through a different route. And those routes matter. They expand what housing studies can be, and they remind us that the field’s strength lies in its diversity, not its uniformity.

In the end, finding belonging in housing studies has meant recognising that there are many ways into this field, and that all of them have something valuable to offer. For that reason, I think we should move away from the language of “conventional” and “non-conventional” housing research altogether. The Association, and the wider field, is at its best when it reflects, supports, and celebrates the breadth of approaches that make housing studies so dynamic.

Join the conversation 

That’s a bit of my story, but I know all of us have taken different routes into housing studies. I’d love to hear yours. 

So I’d love to hear from you:

• How did you first find your way into housing studies?

• Did you feel “at home” straight away, or did it take time to find your place?

• What has helped you feel that sense of belonging in the field or within the Housing Studies Association?

Please do share your experiences in the comments below — I think these stories can help us all see the breadth of paths into housing studies, and perhaps remind us why the field is so much stronger for it.