Make this a priority
Sometime between Trump’s election and inauguration, I posted something on Facebook to the effect of, “I see many of my friends using language of despair and hopelessness that really scares me. I desperately need all of you to remain in my life. Please do whatever it takes to get rested and ready for the road ahead.”
I still feel this way. I want to share some of the reflection I’ve done on what it means to build community in a time of frightening chaos.
The most important thing you can do right now in this absolutely terrifying hellscape is to build a community of people, preferably in either close proximity or frequent contact, who care for you, and both hold and inspire you to the standards of bravery and accountability you aspire to. This is the foundation for surviving the foreseeable future.
One of the things that distinguishes many Americans right now from previous periods of historical trauma is our collective isolation from a cohesive sense of community identity. Many of us move far from home for education or work. We are told that a mark of success is to do just this – to take opportunity wherever it is. For many middle-class people (particularly in my profession), we take it for granted that uprooting our households and families every few years between cities is the normal price we pay for career success. We rack up student loans in the thousands for the opportunity to do this, without gauging how damaging it is to have to find new friends every couple years. Many of us suffered spiritual trauma so we don’t have a religious community we can count on. What passed for activism for many years was writing a check to a good cause instead of grassroots organizing. After working a long day at an exhausting job it’s far preferable to come home and hang out with Netflix than to go to a neighborhood meeting where people drone on about traffic control measures.
It’s a blessing to see people in the streets protesting the latest fuckery of this administration. At the same time you often hear folks saying, “why aren’t there more? why aren’t we shutting everything down RIGHT NOW?” But I think this misses something: that ambient despair and hopelessness – a large part of why people stay at home – are most effectively held in check by a sense of community solidarity and identity. And the courage people need to stick their necks out is bolstered by community identities that reinforce the importance of doing the work of standing up for others. It’s a lot easier to go to a protest if you know your friends will be there. It’s tolerable to go to a boring neighborhood meeting with droning people if you already have post-meeting beers set up. Many of the most revolutionary social justice acts through history were done by participants who were part of a strong community, knowing that if something adverse happened to them, they could rely on their community to care for their family or homes or even themselves. When you don’t have community identities where this is a normal part of life, it’s a lot harder to go out in the streets or turn up for the work that repairing the world requires.
Here’s where I need to explain some of my own personal history and why I feel such a deep conviction on why y’all need to make building community priority #1.
The first activist-y thing I ever did was joining Food Not Bombs as an awkward teenager. Some of the folks from those days have become lifelong friends for me, but more importantly, we all showed up at anti-Iraq War protests. Fast forward to New Orleans. I joined a pretty badly organized infoshop and radical library. I eventually fell away from it, but I met some awesome people that I still stay in touch with. They remain my connection to what’s happening on the ground in the South.
A few years ago I decided to move back to Cincinnati, where my parents still lived and where a few friends were left. I have a great job, and I hope I keep it for a long time. But a couple years ago, I had the realization that because I have roots here, I’m staying in Cincinnati for the long haul even if my job goes belly up. I decided to choose building community over building a career. In the end, I think it’s a better safety net and quality of life, especially as the safety net of government vanishes.
My husband and I are not planning on having children, and being childless fundamentally colors your perspective on community in many ways. I know that if I want to make sure I have someone who cares about me in my old age, I have to build deep and dense networks across space and time. And because I don’t have children, I have the time and resources to invest into strengthening the communities that I’m part of, in ways that are sometimes challenging for parents with extensive caregiving obligations. Therefore, I feel a fundamental ethical obligation and expression of my values is to devote myself to community building.
Community building looks like lots of things to different people. For me, building community locally has meant investment in political, advocacy, and religious life. I’m involved with local Planned Parenthood advocacy, the Cincinnati DSA chapter, and a Quaker meeting. I am terrified for what the future will bring, but I know that it’s a lot easier to feel that I’m Doing The Work and that I’m Not Alone when I participate in these spaces. I’ve been urging my friends to find their own communities where they can be a part of something larger than themselves. Communities with shared values and organizing principles are critical to shoring up a sense of being anchored amidst the hurricane of terror swirling around us.
This is what my faith says about the importance of community:
Each of us lives in multiple overlapping and interconnected communities. Some we are born into, while others we choose to join. Each one provides us with an opportunity to test, refine, and express our beliefs, attitudes, and preferences. Claiming membership in a community is a way to define ourselves to others. As we live into that commitment, community can be more than just a group of people. It can embody our testimonies – a way we witness to the world about what we believe to be most important.
It really freaks me out to see people I love going “LOL WE’RE FUCKED!!!!” whenever the news keeps getting worse (as it inevitably does). And at this point, maybe even if we are fucked, we can all go down together sharing some comforting memories of friendship and Doing The Work of repairing the world instead of our last memory being horror scrolling through the latest Vox hot take.
All I know is this: if The Revolution ever breaks out, it will be a hell of a lot easier to launch myself into it from a potluck at my house or Yet Another Committee Meeting than if I’m sitting on my couch alone binge-watching some dumb dystopian tv show. I’ve never felt like Black Mirror or The Handmaid’s Tale or fucking social media could reach out and hug me whenever I’m freaking the hell out, but when I spend time with my community I always have that comfort at hand.
I don’t know what the future will bring. People are justifiably terrified. There is no one coming to save us. We have to save ourselves, with each other. Please go join a group of people who are already Doing The Work. Make it your top priority. You need it. I look forward to seeing you at the next meeting.
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