Behind the gates: Social splitting and the “other”
On our first visit to my sister’s new home in San Antonio, Texas, my husband, Joel, and I are amazed to find two corral gates blocking the entrance to her development. I push an intercom button on the visitors’ side. Getting no response, I hit the button repeatedly, finally rousing a disembodied voice that asks who we want to see. I shout Anna and Bob’s last name. The entrance gate swings open, and we accelerate through onto a divided drive enclosed by a six-foot wall covered with bougainvillea and heavenly bamboo.