Naomi Emily Kutsuna: Beyond Walls and Roofs

Naomi Emily Kutsuna is redefining what it means to build communities. As a Japanese entrepreneur, wife, mother, and Vice President of a U.S.-based real estate development company, she blends sharp business strategy with a heartfelt mission: to create spaces where families don’t just live, but truly belong. From large-scale lifestyle communities to luxury homes, Naomi’s projects are designed with intention—places where connection, opportunity, and a sense of home flourish beyond walls and roofs.

You see investment as more than financial return — as a gift to someone’s life. How did this philosophy take shape for you?

That philosophy really began to take shape when I became a mother. Raising my child was the most precious experience, but at the same time, I realized I still wanted to do work that truly mattered—work where I could create a meaningful impact on society.

When I stepped into real estate development, I discovered that what we were creating wasn’t just houses—it was the foundation for people’s daily lives. I remember one family telling me, “Since moving here, our child is so much happier.” That simple comment touched me more deeply than any financial report ever could.

Moments like that reminded me that numbers alone are never the whole story. What really matters is how people live, connect, and feel supported in the communities we create. That is why I see investment not only as a financial return, but as a gift—an offering to someone’s future. To me, every project is about building homes where stories can unfold, gratitude can grow, and life can flourish.

Home at Maricopa will eventually house over 500 families. What does it feel like to know you’re building not just properties, but a community?

It’s both humbling and inspiring. When I think over 500 families, I don’t see numbers—I see children growing up, neighbors becoming friends, and countless small stories unfolding every day.

To me, it feels like we are creating more than properties. We are creating a stage where life happens. A place where someone might take their first steps, celebrate a birthday, or simply feel safe coming home at the end of the day.

Of course, as a developer, we have to think about construction, budgets, and timelines. But what moves me the most is knowing that every decision we make—the design of a clubhouse, the layout of pools and BBQs, even the walking paths—can influence how people connect and how they feel about their community.

So it doesn’t just feel like “building.” It feels like contributing to the fabric of people’s lives. And that sense of purpose is what keeps me motivated every single day.

What inspired your transition from motherhood into real estate development, and how did that shift change your life’s direction?

Motherhood was the turning point that shifted everything for me. Becoming a mom was the most transformative experience of my life—it gave me perspective on what truly matters. While I treasured the time with my child, I also felt a strong desire to contribute beyond my family. I wanted to do work where I could create a meaningful impact on society, work that would make me feel alive and purposeful.

That’s what led me to real estate development. I realized that by building communities, I wasn’t just constructing properties—I was shaping environments where families could thrive. It gave me a sense of alignment between my personal life and my professional path.

The shift changed my direction completely. It connected my role as a mother with my role as a builder of communities. Now, every project is both a professional challenge and a personal mission: to create places where people can feel at home, supported, and inspired.

As a Japanese woman leading projects in the U.S., how have you navigated cultural differences in both business and community-building?

Navigating cultural differences has been both a challenge and a gift. As a Japanese woman leading projects in the U.S., I often bring a perspective shaped by respect, patience, and careful attention to detail—values deeply rooted in my culture. At the same time, I’ve had to learn to adapt to the American way of doing business, which often values speed, direct communication, and bold decision-making.

Early on, I realized that instead of choosing one over the other, I could combine both. My Japanese background helps me build trust, listen deeply, and notice things others might overlook. From the American side, I’ve learned the importance of speaking up, moving quickly, and embracing innovation. Together, these approaches create balance: thoughtful planning with decisive action.

In community-building, these cultural bridges matter even more. Families moving into our developments often come from different backgrounds, and I want each of them to feel seen and included. My own experience of living between cultures allows me to design spaces where diversity isn’t just accepted, but celebrated.

So while cultural differences can be challenging, they have also become my strength. They’ve given me the ability to connect across worlds—both in business and in the communities we are creating.

The Lifestyle model is gaining attention for its role in neighborhood stability. What makes it so powerful compared to traditional development?

What makes the Lifestyle model so powerful is that it creates stability—not just in financial returns, but in people’s lives. Traditional development often focuses on selling homes as quickly as possible. Families move in and out, ownership changes, and neighborhoods can feel transient.

With Lifestyle, the vision is different. From the very beginning, these homes are designed for long-term rental. That means families can settle in without the pressure of ownership, while still enjoying the quality, design, and amenities of a newly built home. Over time, that stability allows neighbors to actually know one another. Children grow up together, friendships form, and a sense of belonging develops.

From a business standpoint, it’s powerful because stability benefits everyone—residents, investors, and the wider community. Residents gain consistency and community, investors gain reliable occupancy and steady returns, and cities gain neighborhoods that are vibrant and resilient rather than fragmented.

To me, that’s what makes Build-to-Rent so much more than a financial model. It’s a way of creating environments where people can thrive—and when people thrive, the investment naturally thrives too.

How do you balance profitability with your mission to create spaces where people truly feel at home?

For me, profitability and purpose are not opposites—they actually strengthen one another. Of course, as a developer, we need to deliver solid returns for our investors. That discipline keeps us accountable and ensures that our projects are sustainable in the long run.

But profitability alone has never been enough to inspire me. What truly motivates me is creating places where people feel safe, connected, and at home. And the truth is, when you design with people in mind, profitability follows. Families who feel rooted in a community stay longer, care for their homes, and contribute to neighborhood stability. That stability translates into stronger financial performance.

So rather than thinking of it as a balance, I see it as alignment. By honoring both goals—financial strength and human-centered design—we create projects that are not only successful on paper, but meaningful in real life. That’s the kind of return I want to be known for: one that improves people’s lives and proves, at the same time, to be a wise investment.

Can you share a story from the Home at Maricopa project that captures why you do this work?

Yes—there’s one story that has stayed with me. A young family moved into Home at Maricopa not long after the first phase opened. A few weeks later, they told me, “Since moving here, our child is so much happier. He runs outside every day to play, and we finally feel like this is home.”

It was such a simple comment, but it struck me deeply. Because at that moment, I realized again that what we’re building is not just houses—it’s the backdrop for people’s lives. The pool, the clubhouse, even the small green spaces aren’t just amenities. They’re stages where children laugh, where friendships form, where people feel safe and connected.

That family’s words reminded me why I do this work. Of course, the business side matters—the numbers, the returns—but what keeps me motivated is knowing that our projects can change the texture of everyday life. To me, that’s the true reward: helping create places where people can feel at home, and where life’s most meaningful memories can begin.

You’ve spoken about designing with daily life in mind. What small but intentional design choices make the biggest difference for residents?

At Home at Maricopa, one of my favorite examples is the large dog run. On the surface, it’s just an amenity for pet owners. But in reality, it has become a natural gathering place where neighbors who share the same love for pets connect, talk, and build friendships. A simple walk with a dog turns into a bridge between people, creating bonds that make a community stronger.

Another intentional choice was placing the gym directly next to the children’s playground, with large windows facing the play area. This way, a mother can run on the treadmill while still watching her child play outside. It may sound like a small detail, but it transforms exercise from something stressful into something reassuring. Parents can care for themselves while knowing their children are safe and happy—it’s design that supports both well-being and peace of mind.

Even in other shared amenities like the clubhouse or pool, we think carefully about details: shaded seating, open layouts, spaces that invite casual connection. These are not extravagant touches, but they turn facilities into places where people actually want to gather and spend time.

For me, that is the essence of community design. It’s not only about buildings or architecture—it’s about shaping daily experiences that make people feel supported, connected, and truly at home.

Community development often comes with challenges. What obstacles have taught you the most about resilience and leadership?

Community development always comes with challenges—delays, unexpected costs, or the sheer complexity of coordinating so many moving parts. But the obstacles that taught me the most were not technical ones; they were human ones.

For example, during the early stages of Home at Maricopa, we faced delays that frustrated both our team and our partners. As a leader, I had to decide: do I push harder, or do I pause to listen? I chose to listen—to the architects, the contractors, even the families waiting to move in. That shift taught me that leadership isn’t about having all the answers; it’s about creating space for solutions to emerge together.

Another challenge was bridging cultural differences in decision-making. As a Japanese woman working in the U.S., I sometimes leaned toward caution while my American colleagues pushed for speed. At first, it felt like conflict—but over time, I learned to see it as balance. Patience combined with decisiveness became one of our greatest strengths.

Those experiences showed me that resilience isn’t just about endurance; it’s about adaptability. And leadership isn’t about control; it’s about trust. The obstacles reminded me that every setback can either divide a team or deepen its unity—depending on how you show up as a leader.

Looking ahead, what kind of legacy do you hope your developments will leave for future generations?

With Home at Maricopa, I feel proud that we didn’t just construct apartments—we started a community. The day the first families moved in, life began: children played in the parks, neighbors met in the dog run, and mothers could exercise in the gym while watching their children play outside. Those simple daily moments became the foundation of belonging.

What excites me even more is seeing how that spark of life attracts further growth. As the community has taken shape, new investments have followed—large stores, businesses, and services. Suddenly, we are not only housing families, but also drawing more people to the area, fueling diversity, and strengthening the local economy. Watching that cycle of growth and inclusion unfold has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my career.

For me, that is the true legacy: communities that don’t just provide shelter, but create momentum—places where lives begin, opportunities expand, and diversity flourishes. It reflects my mission to create a meaningful impact on society: to build spaces that inspire human connection, foster growth, and leave future generations with more than walls and roofs—they inherit the possibility of a richer, more connected life.