Social Housing & the Language of Urban Dignity

Oscar Jaimes Navarro – Director of Strategic Communications and Public Relations – [email protected]

As human beings, we have a deep need to belong. That need is built, first and foremost, through language: the way we name, describe, and give meaning to the spaces we inhabit.

Language does more than communicate experiences; it shapes them. It defines behaviors, creates bonds, and can also generate conflict. As Denis Villeneuve states in Arrival (2016): “Language is the foundation of civilization. It is the glue that holds people together.”

In social housing, this choice of words matters more than we often acknowledge. Yet the conversation tends to focus on budgets, regulations, and political or legal gaps. Rarely do we speak about the people who will live in these spaces—or about the language that recognizes them as a community and allows them to belong.

This is the paradox cities across the Americas and around the world have faced for decades: how to build more housing without losing the soul of communities. From Washington, DC, to Bogotá, urban growth, migration, and inequality continuously challenge how we define the word home. Amid this complexity, one truth becomes clear: the way we talk about housing shapes how we conceive it, design it, and build it. This relationship between language and housing is not abstract—it manifests concretely in how projects are imagined, communicated, and realized.

Communication as Invisible Infrastructure
Every housing project begins long before the first brick is laid. It begins with a story: how government leaders articulate their priorities, how developers communicate their vision, and how neighbors perceive change. Communication is essential to building trust, setting expectations, and defining the values that underpin every square foot constructed.

In the context of social housing, this becomes especially critical. The COVID-19 crisis amplified voices questioning how people want to live in their cities and revealed the need for shared narratives. Strategic communication helps align equity and inclusion, reframes affordability as resilience, and brings public institutions, private partners, and communities together around a common goal.

At MOYA Design Partners, we have seen how a clear narrative can transform projects into movements. Our design process begins by listening—to the language of the community, its stories, and its collective memory—to understand how the past continues to shape identity today.

When communication is integrated as part of design, it shapes not only how projects are perceived, but also how people engage with them. This includes government actors, who must act as key collaborators in the process of city-building.

A Global Challenge with Local Realities
In Raleigh, North Carolina, hundreds of residents have gathered to protest unmet political promises around affordable housing (Roman, 2025)¹. At the same time, in cities around the world, the cost of living continues to rise, and quality of life is increasingly measured through everyday realities such as access to transportation.

Data from the Urban Institute (2023)² reveals that one in ten residents of Washington, DC, does not have stable housing. In Colombia, the National Urban Policy Review of Colombia by the OECD (2022)³ shows that all 1,103 municipalities face distinct geographic, demographic, economic, and social conditions—shaped by fragmented urban development, complex geography, and limited transportation infrastructure.

These realities point to a global challenge with deeply local expressions. In this context, the sector must actively listen to communities and communicate clearly the social and economic value of its projects. People want to participate in shaping their neighborhoods and cities—but they expect, in return, a genuine commitment to being heard.

The role of communicators in housing equity
As communicators, we are, above all, builders of trust. Our work goes beyond campaigns or press releases: it can shape how people experience public policy, design, and projects that impact their daily lives.

Some things we can do in scenarios where trust is important include:
Translating complexity into clarity: In Washington, DC, African American residents represent 41% of the population, yet they make up 68% of those facing housing insecurity. This gap shows how data, when explained with clarity and context, can guide fairer design decisions and public policies.

The explanation for this complex situation stems from how people live: for example, African American residents, who are also more likely to live in households with children, are more likely to experience other challenges such as overcrowding, substandard housing conditions, pests, and lack of affordability.

Numbers inform, but stories mobilize. This shapes how housing is conceived and built.

Connecting data with emotions: while in the United States, affordable housing lies at the intersection of policy, economics, and social responsibility, in contexts such as Colombia—where territorial inequalities run deep—communication translates data into narratives that acknowledge the human experience behind the statistics.

That connection is key to generating empathy, participation, and a sense of belonging. Cities like Washington, DC are redefining density and access while balancing sustainability goals and equity mandates with actions that connect with society.

In Colombia and across Latin America, the challenge feels equally urgent. Rapid urbanization, migration, and post-conflict reconstruction programs demand solutions that combine design, sustainability, and cultural sensitivity.

When communication brings together evidence, context, and emotion, it becomes a powerful tool for advancing more equitable housing.

Giving visibility to the human stories behind architectural progress: Social housing is, above all, a conversation about dignity. A conversation that begins with language, continues through communication, and materializes in the built environment. When words include, projects can include as well. And when design responds to that listening, the city stops being an abstract system and becomes a place where people can truly belong.

In the United States, equity mandates require all parties involved in architectural projects to demonstrate the progress their work brings to communities. In places like Washington, DC—where approximately 44,000 residents spend more than half of their income on rent, while more than one-third face food insecurity⁴—the impact of an architectural project can be made visible through the transformations experienced in everyday life.

If social housing helps transform not only housing security but also improves living conditions related to food security, it is undoubtedly a story that must be told.

Every message we craft can strengthen the bridge between political intention and community acceptance.

A call to strategic empathy
Affordable housing is not only a matter of construction; it has political, economic, design, and also cultural challenges—it is cultural. The way we frame messages determines whether it is perceived as social assistance or as civic pride.

However, the future of housing depends as much on design as on dialogue. If we want resilient, inclusive, and sustainable cities, we must first build the language that unites them. As communicators, we have the responsibility to speak that language with empathy and purpose: to turn housing into a story of dignity, not scarcity.

Because every project begins with a conversation.