“I don’t own emotion, I rent.” ~Mark, Rent the Musical
I don’t own the house I live in. I’ve thought about the idea of owning a home many times, but ultimately, I’ve just never been sold on the idea of owning being a necessary part of life and success. It is, I believe, a status symbol. This is nothing new–land and home ownership have long been a touchstone of achievement. For my own family, this is particularly true. That old adage about “not selling the farm” is of quote literal meaning to us as an immigrant Japanese family in the Salinas Valley pre and post World War II. Owning that farm probably saved us, and gave us a means to climb back up the social ladder after being put into camps. Then, owning was practical and dignifying, but it by itself was not the ends, but the means to something else.
I’m in my late 20s now, and many of my peers are buying homes. It makes me conscious of the idea that I’m in a point in my life where, if I decided to do so, I could also become an owner. But the ability to do something is not a reason to do it. Unless a purchase accommodates a specific need, it’s arbitrary. Since I feel a lot closer to the topic now, I also feel the need to question the idea that I need to do it–ever.