Get out the fucking door

Building community is hard but we have to do it anyway and it will actually make you feel better.

Building community is hard.

We are exhausted.

We’re stuck in a seemingly endless cycle of hyper-individualism—living in our houses, our cars, on our screens, in our own little worlds.

We’re constantly afraid of misstepping, being too much, not being enough, pushing too hard, or being seen as too distant.

We cancel each other, criticize each other, dismiss each other, and are scared of each other.

The idea of coming together outside of institutions to share space and care for one another feels almost impossible.

But we have to do it anyway.

Remember when we all realized that the environment was collapsing, our economy was falling apart, and no one knew what to do about it? Well, I’ve got great news: we know what to do.

Build community.

Relocalize.

Co-create movements of collective care.

Here’s the amazing thing that happens when we focus on building community: we begin creating new infrastructures that actually meet the needs of our families and neighbours. We start building distributed networks of information and resources that help us meet our own needs without relying on the top-down, globalized institutions that cause so much harm. We can see alternative economies arise from these networks—barter and exchange groups, freecycle communities, trade meetups. We can witness the rise of collective care infrastructures like communal child-minding, financial support for important community initiatives, ride sharing, tool libraries, workbees, community gardens, and art projects.

Beautiful things are happening, folks.

But we have a tough job ahead: we have to keep showing up. Communities don’t build themselves. They require constant effort, nurturing, and commitment. The people in your community? They RELY ON YOU to be there, to hold up your part.

I know you’re tired. I’m really tired too. I’m back to working a 9-5 (a lovely 9-5, but still clocking those hours…). And when I get home, I am DONE. Exhausted. Throw in a bad night of sleep, and I’m a mess. I feel you. I really do.

But even in the face of all that, there is hope. Building community doesn't require perfection or boundless energy; it just requires showing up in whatever capacity we can.

When push comes to shove, and a friend texts me to make dinner plans or there’s a gathering at the community garden or a pop-up market with local makers, I know deep in my soul that fostering those connections—truly and honestly—fills my cup. As an introvert with social anxiety, I can still say, without a doubt, that the time spent in community is healing.

I see the pull toward isolation and individualism everywhere—in my kids, my friends, my colleagues. The urge to hunker down in our nuclear families and rely on our partners to meet all our emotional needs has become the norm. People are connecting only online.

I see people backing out of community events in my work life—cancelling last minute, deprioritizing connection in favour of resting in isolation. The pull is strong.

But these networks we need to build? They won’t exist without you. They can’t. We need each other to show up, to collaborate side by side in order to get things done. The secret sauce to a post-capitalist world is you, your neighbours, and your friends—it’s all of us.

There are so many ways to get tapped into this movement! I see it happening everywhere. I hear about it from co-conspirators and contributors to the Novitas magazine and podcast. I see events on Instagram. I hear about exciting initiatives through friends and family.

And even if you can’t attend events, you can still connect with your friend networks! Invite people over to share a meal—we all need to eat! Make it kid-friendly. Invite people to COME AS THEY ARE: broken, exhausted, or even depressed. Make it a pyjama party, bake cupcakes, watch a movie, and make popcorn. No small talk required.

We need to be connected. We need localized communities of care and mutual support. We need distributed networks to establish alternative economies and resource banks. And we need your help. Get out the door. Go to an event. Host a gathering. I promise you’ll feel better once you do.