Language is a funny thing. We use phrases every single day without actually stopping to think about where they came from or why they still stick around. Take the phrase in our neck of the woods. It’s cozy. It feels like home. But honestly, if you look at it literally, it makes almost no sense. Necks don’t belong on forests.
Yet, we keep saying it. Why? Because humans are obsessed with "place." Even in a world where we spend half our lives looking at a digital screen that could be anywhere, we still feel a deep, primal need to define our immediate surroundings. Whether you're in a high-rise in Chicago or a literal cabin in the Smoky Mountains, you've got a "neck."
Where did this "neck" even come from?
If you want to get technical, the etymology is actually pretty grounded in geography. In the 17th century, early settlers in the American colonies—mostly in Virginia and the North—used the word "neck" to describe a narrow strip of land. Think about a peninsula or a piece of land squeezed between two rivers. It looked like a neck. Simple enough.
But then something shifted.
Language evolved. People stopped being so literal. By the late 1700s, "neck" started referring to any specific settlement or neighborhood, even if it wasn't a physical peninsula. It became a social boundary rather than just a geographical one. You weren't just talking about the dirt; you were talking about the people on it. It’s one of those rare idioms that actually tells a story about how we view community. It’s about belonging.
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The psychology of localism
There is a real psychological comfort in the local. Urban planners and sociologists often talk about "third places"—those spots that aren't work or home. In our neck of the woods, those third places define the culture. Maybe it’s the specific way people order their coffee at the corner bodega, or the unwritten rule that you pull over for funeral processions on a two-lane highway.
Ray Oldenburg, a famous urban sociologist, argued that these local hubs are the heartbeat of democracy. They are where people talk. When you say "in our neck of the woods," you're implicitly excluding the "them" and highlighting the "us." It’s a verbal fence. It’s a way of saying, "This is how we do things here."
Interestingly, regional dialects are actually strengthening in some parts of the US despite the internet. You’d think we’d all start sounding the same because we watch the same YouTube videos. Nope. Linguists like William Labov have documented the "Northern Cities Vowel Shift." People in the Great Lakes region are actually leaning harder into their specific accents. It’s a form of soft rebellion against the generic.
Why geography still matters in 2026
We’re living in a hyper-connected era. You can buy the same IKEA desk in Tokyo that you can in Berlin. But you can't replicate the specific "vibe" of a neighborhood.
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- Regional Food Systems: We’re seeing a massive return to hyper-local sourcing. It’s not just about "organic" anymore; it’s about "from that farm three miles down."
- Climate Adaptation: People in our neck of the woods are dealing with specific weather patterns that someone 500 miles away doesn't understand. Whether it's atmospheric rivers in the PNW or the increasing humidity in the Southeast, shared struggle builds shared language.
- Micro-Economies: The rise of local currencies or neighborhood-specific bartering groups on platforms like Nextdoor or Discord shows that we are shrinking our circles back down to size.
The world got too big. So we’re making it small again.
Regionalism isn't just for rural areas
A lot of people think "neck of the woods" sounds rural. They think of hunters or farmers. Honestly, that’s a misconception. If you’re in Brooklyn and you talk about your "neck of the woods," you’re probably talking about three specific blocks and a favorite park bench.
The scale changes, but the sentiment doesn’t.
In dense urban environments, the "neck" is often defined by walking distance. If you have to take a subway to get there, it’s not your neck of the woods anymore. It’s another world. This hyper-localism is actually a survival mechanism. It helps us filter out the noise of eight million people and focus on the fifty people we see at the deli every morning.
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The dark side of the fence
We should be real here: regional identity isn't always sunshine and rainbows. "In our neck of the woods" can sometimes be a coded way of saying "you don't belong here." It can be exclusionary.
Sociologists call this "bonding social capital." It’s great for the people inside the group—they support each other, they share resources, they look out for one another’s kids. But it can create a barrier for outsiders. If you don't know the unwritten rules of the "neck," you’re always going to feel like a tourist.
True community requires a balance. You want the warmth of the "neck," but you need "bridging social capital" too. That’s the stuff that connects your neck of the woods to the next one over. Without it, neighborhoods become silos.
How to actually find your "neck"
If you’ve moved recently, you might feel like you don't have a neck of the woods yet. It’s a lonely feeling. It takes time to build that sense of place.
- Stop using GPS for everything. Seriously. Learn the side streets. Learn where the potholes are. You can't own a place mentally if you're just following a blue dot on a screen.
- Talk to the "gatekeepers." Every neighborhood has them. It’s the librarian, the long-time bartender, or the neighbor who has lived there since 1974. They hold the oral history of the "neck."
- Support the hyper-local. If a business has the name of your town in it, go there.
- Observe the seasons. Notice when the trees change or when the local high school has its homecoming parade. These are the rhythms that define a region.
The future of the local
The irony of the digital age is that it has made us crave the physical more than ever. We want the tangible. We want the dirt.
So, next time you use that phrase, remember you're tapping into a 400-year-old tradition of carving out a space for yourself in a big, confusing world. It’s not just about where you live; it’s about the people you’ve decided to stand with.
Actionable insights for building regional connection
- Map your "Third Places": Identify three locations within a 10-minute radius where you are recognized as a "regular." If you don't have three, pick one and visit it every Tuesday for a month.
- Audit your spending: Look at your bank statement. What percentage of your money stays in our neck of the woods versus going to global conglomerates? Aim to shift 10% more to local owners this quarter.
- Join a local registry: Whether it’s a neighborhood watch, a community garden, or a local history Facebook group, get involved in the "boring" stuff. That’s where the real community is built.
- Learn the native flora: Knowing the names of the trees and plants in your immediate area changes your relationship with the land. It turns a "background" into a "home."