Letter 143: What Matters Most
When we ask about community
Big questions.
Recently, the TLC team has been reflecting on some big questions, and we imagine many of you have been doing the same. With that in mind, we are excited to launch a new series that delves into significant life themes we’ve been pondering. From time to time, we will share these questions and answers, and we invite you to contribute your thoughts in the comments. Your engagement and feedback on our letters and posts, like today’s, greatly benefit other readers and the community overall. Thank you for your support! We hope you enjoy today’s Q&A! —Molly
Today’s question: How do you build community? What keeps you connected to community?
It was December 2016, and my daughter was visiting me during her college winter break. She knew I had only been in Jordan for a month and was worried I was all alone and, quite frankly, lonely. I assured her that I had found a wonderful group of women while taking an Arab cooking class, and I couldn't wait for her to meet them. Hilariously, upon meeting my new friends, she burst out, "The way my mom talks about you, I thought you were all 55-year-old women...like her!" They were, in fact, 22-year-old Danish students who, because we engaged with each other, planned with each other, and followed through with each other, had formed our foreigners-abroad crew. It is that willingness to reach out that begins the building of community. —Anonymous
Thinking about what keeps me connected my community has so much to do with a sense of belonging—specifically belonging to each other, not just belonging to the group.
One of my most cherished communities is the women of Volunteer Girls State. While we share a common goal of creating the best citizenship program we possibly can, our investment in relationships drives us to remain connected in deep and meaningful ways. We trust each other with our most precious selves and recognize the tremendous responsibility that carries. This group of women consistently shows up for one another.
In 2014, when I had a 4-year-old and 2-year-old twins, within a 12-day stretch my dad entered home hospice and passed away, we had his funeral in Nashville, Chris graduated from his neurosurgery residency in Wisconsin, we went to a friend’s wedding in California, and we moved into our house in Memphis. When we walked into our rental house, there were flowers with a note from my Memphis Girls State friends and a pantry and fridge full of food. We’re talking specialty cupcakes from a local bakery, homemade meals ready to pop in the oven, peanut butter and jelly, milk, boxes of mac and cheese, and all kinds of other staples. They showed up. They didn’t ask what we needed; they just found a way to say, “You belong to us, and we want you to know it.”
We have a program that brought us together for a shared purpose, but what keeps us connected as a community is the balance of investing in each other and receiving dividends from those relationships. —Sally Nickele, 44
“Who helped you with meals when your daughter was born?” she asked.
“No one,” my mom scoffed.
“Yep, we just did it on our own and figured it out,” she replied, in condescension and awe, as the rest of us bustled around the kitchen, preparing freezer meals for the postpartum haze soon to descend on our house.
In the weeks since, I’ve thought a lot about this exchange. I feel sadness for these two moms, who didn’t have the support they needed when they welcomed their children. I also feel a sense of gratitude that I am not where they were.
Because I have learned that community is about inviting other people to participate in your life.
That we must create space for ourselves and others to be vulnerable, to be loved and embraced for who we are.
And that by doing so, we give and receive in kind.
These relatively new friends gave their time and energy to help me prepare for my child's upcoming arrival. Some would think it was a one-way exchange, that only I benefited.
But they also received things on that gorgeous, energetic Sunday afternoon: a sense of belonging and contribution, generosity and love, and connection to each other and the future.
This moment reminded me of the wisdom I’ve found from others, like adrienne maree brown, who writes “[h]ow we are at the small scale is how we are the large scale…that what we practice at a small scale can reverberate to the largest scale.” 1
It takes practice and intentionality to build community, and we might as well start at the smallest scale and let that love and energy grow upwards. —Alyson Roberts
I feel fortunate because I think our community rocks at being a community. My town is small (10,000 people), and I can go anywhere and strike up a conversation with a friend or acquaintance (my kids often roll their eyes because a 10-minute grocery store stop takes 30 minutes). But even in a place like this, you have to be intentional in forming deeper and more meaningful relationships than just standing in line at Evans Brothers Coffee and chatting for five minutes.
Recently, I was asked to step into a Cookbook Club, and it is just my speed. Together, you pick a cookbook every quarter, cook from it as much as possible, and share the photos and critique from the meal throughout the quarter. At the end, we all get together and make a meal using a recipe from the cookbook. The group is an assembly of people that may not naturally form, but came together because we all like to cook, and we really like good food. A farmer, a therapist, an architect, a therapeutic boarding school director — all the people that make for a night of good food, great conversation and community. — Katie Egland Cox, 49, Executive Director of Kaniksu Land Trust (Here’s their recent community-building project that blew me away!)
Leaving college and entering real adulthood, I soon realized that the effort it takes to make (and maintain) friendships could no longer be delegated to arbitrary social affiliations or mutually shared majors. As everyone’s lives became busier and spread between more numerous and disparate identities (work, roommates, college friends, high school friends, siblings, etc.), the shared and reliable nucleus we once had (which included designated living arrangements, a social calendar, and even coordinated merch!) was quickly shattered into tiny little pieces — across neighborhoods, coasts, and sometimes even countries.
What made that college community so strong — so familial, even — was its ability to be maintained alongside all the other obligations and commitments each of us had.
Fast-forwarding a few years, my strongest communities are still formed and maintained through the security of routine, of consistency. While that may sound boring and not very joie-de-vivre (a quality I actively look for in my friends and communities), communities that don’t require a ton of additional effort to be a part of are what make them so maintainable.
In this world, my largest and most reliable community, my third place, is my gym / running group. While it is actually a community-focused fitness concept, the social gatherings and constant WhatsApp messages are less of why it is such a meaningful part of my interpersonal web. Rather, the consistency is what drives my feeling of stability and connection. On busy work weeks and slow ones, when it is sleeting out or a perfect spring New York day, I know that at least 2x a week, on Monday and Wednesday mornings, I will be with the same group of 15 or so people in a dark sweaty room in NoHo.
The gym community leverages the routineness of working out — a generally considered solo activity — and turns it into a space for accountability, shared experience, and low-effort hangouts. The gym is a great reminder for me that long-lasting community comes from repeated and almost effortless interaction. The brutal workouts are just a bonus. —Juliana Arbelaez, 25
Each morning when I get off the metro on my way to work, I wave at the driver to quickly signal “Thank you and good morning!” and he smiles and waves back. When I arrive in the office, I find that my fellow labmates have sent out a poll for when our next cocktail hour and movie night should be. Later in the evening, I attend a dance class where I am welcomed into the studio with hugs and smiles, and we spend the next hour hyping each other up with applause and compliments. Back at my apartment, I ride the elevator with my neighbor, and she tells me she’s looking forward to her grandson’s visit this weekend and asks me about my weekend plans. When I unlock my apartment, I find my roommate eating dinner, ready for our daily debrief where we commiserate over the tough days and celebrate each other’s successes. I end the night texting my sister and mom about our creative projects, each of us sending pictures and descriptions of what we’re currently crafting. My days are filled with community. The outlines that illustrate my life are filled in with vibrant color by the people around me; my friendships and connections keep me from simply going through the motions of life and work.
The communities I have built around me are layered. They bolster me through rough patches and further enrich the good times, and I strive to reciprocate this. I get out what I put into my communities; I often offer a listening ear, a warm smile, or a ride to the airport because I know I’ll need to lean on my community as well. Recognizing and reflecting on the support, fun, love, and opportunities I’ve gained from the important people who fill my life fuels me to intentionally seek these daily personal connections in my local community and established friendships and relationships. —Rachel Anderson, 25
One of my favorite sources of community is Tuesday night dinner. Four of my friends and I--all with very distinct majors and interests--get together nearly every Tuesday night. We share our recent projects, interests, and struggles, and I regularly find myself doubled over in laughter over the course of the hour and a half (two if I'm lucky). From investigative journalism, to maps, to April Fool's pranks, I always leave dinner feeling lucky to have found such wonderful friends. The dependability of this plan and of these people is what makes me feel like I belong.
Such great reminders!
"Because I have learned that community is about inviting other people to participate in your life. That we must create space for ourselves and others to be vulnerable, to be loved and embraced for who we are. And that by doing so, we give and receive in kind." What a good reminder of the tough but kind words my mom once shared with me: "You are robbing other people of friendship with you if you do not let them in."