Between Loss and Hope: Exploring the Role of Leisure and Tourism Professionals in Addressing Place Grief through Meaningful Experiences during Urban Transitions
A reflective essay, written by Roos Gerritsma (PD-candidate and lab lead Urban Leisure & Tourism Lab Amsterdam (North), with the help of ChatGPT*
This essay is not a finish line, it is a work in progress and an invitation to all to hold space for place grief in cities and its communities, that face various types of transformation. Coming years we will further explore and experience different aspects of this specific type of grief.
“We go for the yes people” –
This phrase was one of the conclusions of a group of tourism professionals in the city of Amsterdam, taking part in a workshop on regeneration (Ensut, 2024). It repeatedly kept resurfacing in my mind. The message of the tourism professionals was clear: work with people who are willing to engage, innovate and co-create new futures. Yet, the statement also raised a troubling question for me. What about the people who say no?
What about those who experience urban change not as opportunity but as loss? What about residents who struggle to recognize their neighborhood, who see familiar buildings disappear, who witness social networks dissolve, or who feel increasingly disconnected from the place they once called home?
As researchers and practitioners working with urban regeneration, placemaking and tourism development, we often celebrate transformation. We talk about innovation, sustainability, resilience and future-making. Far less attention is paid to what disappears in the process.
This essay explores the concept of place grief (Gerritsma, Bouw & Hes, 2024) and reflects on the role that leisure and tourism professionals might play in helping communities navigate experiences of loss during urban transitions. Drawing on research, co-creative design experiences from Amsterdam North, emerging scholarship on grief, place attachment and urban transformation, I argue that leisure and tourism professionals may have an important yet largely overlooked role. Not as drivers of change, but as facilitators of meaning-making, remembrance and collective hope. Not merely hope, but deliberately designing for hope and cultivating active hope practices in processes of urban change (Macey & Johnstone, 2022, Hes & Plessis, 2015).
Urban Transitions and the Experience of Loss
Cities are living systems. They are never finished; they are constantly in the process of becoming (Lin, 2026). Across Europe, cities are undergoing multiple transitions simultaneously. Housing shortages, climate adaptation, energy transitions, demographic changes and economic restructuring are reshaping urban environments at unprecedented speed. Amsterdam North exemplifies this process. Former industrial sites have been transformed into residential districts, new populations continue to arrive, and long-standing social and spatial structures are being reconfigured. Besides that, Amsterdam North is appointed to become one of the new city centers, partly with a view to spreading out the number of visitors to the city (Gemeente Amsterdam, 2022).
While many celebrate these developments, not everyone experiences them positively. Urban transitions often create winners and losers. New investments may increase quality of life for some while generating feelings of displacement, exclusion or alienation for others. Residents may mourn the disappearance of familiar landscapes, social relations, cultural practices or neighborhood identities.
Many residents of Amsterdam North have expressed feelings of losing their sense of home due to the transition of their city district. I encounter these expressions frequently, such as via (local) social media, in contact with activist groups and policymakers and during our lab place exploration and sense-making activities (Gerritsma, Horgan, Bouw, 2024) each semester. Such emotional responses are increasingly described through concepts such as place attachment, place loss and place grief.
Place attachment refers to the emotional, social and symbolic bonds that individuals and communities develop with places (Scannell & Gifford, 2010). When places undergo significant transformation, these attachments can be disrupted. Albrecht (2005) introduced the concept of solastalgia to describe the distress people experience when their home environment changes while they remain physically in place. Unlike nostalgia, which involves longing for a place left behind, solastalgia refers to the grief experienced when the place itself changes around you.
Yet despite growing academic attention, place grief remains largely absent from urban development practice. Planning processes frequently include participation, consultation and co-design activities. However, they rarely acknowledge grief as a legitimate response to change. There is often space for discussing future visions, but little room for mourning what has been lost.
Regeneration as Healing and Restorative practice
My own understanding of this issue began to shift during a professional training program on moving beyond polarization (Really Regenerative Centre, 2024) that was focused on regenerative reconciliation and place development. One exercise asked participants to imagine how cities might heal the stories of separation between humans and nature, and between humans and one another. The exercise suggested that regenerative futures are not solely about ecological restoration but also about social inclusion, community resilience, belonging and healing. At the time, I found the concept of healing inspiring, but also still highly abstract.
How exactly do places and their communities heal? How can urban professionals contribute to healing when the systems they work within are often focused on efficiency, growth and measurable outcomes? Over time, I began to realize that regeneration is not only about creating something new. It is equally about acknowledging what has been damaged, neglected or lost. In this sense, regeneration requires confronting grief.
This insight resonates strongly with the work of Flatland’s descriptions of various roles during transitions (2026) and Machado de Oliveira’s work on Hospicing Modernity (2021). They both describe the role of the hospice worker as someone who accompanies the dying of an old system. Rather than denying collapse or clinging to the past, the hospice worker honors what existed, recognizes the pain associated with change and helps people navigate transitions with dignity and care. A hospice worker recognizes the value of what has been and helps people to let go of it gently. They understand that grief is part of the transition, are empathetic, skilled in conducting rituals, and ensure that the past is brought to a dignified close.
Could leisure and tourism professionals act, in some ways, as hospice workers for places? Could this be part of the restorative phase towards regeneration? See image below, translated by ChatGPT, original in Dutch (Regenerative Futures, 2026).

