"community" can be a bad word in the mouth of an oppressor
a restful musing
a year and a half ago I was sitting in a class session online. (I wish I could have done all of my schooling online, but that is a post for a different day.) and as I sat there, listening to various bits of conversation I locked into a question my professor was asking:
“do you believe that you have a responsibility to make up for harms your ancestors have done?”
my classmates (yes. they were.1) scrambled to assure our professor that they didn’t owe their ancestors anything or future generations largely. they made clear that they were individuals and owed no one. while this wasn’t shocking to me in the slightest, i took a deep sigh. when it was my turn, my answer was simple: i am one person connected to a complex web of peoples…yes I have a deep responsibility to repair what I can and to make a brighter future for those coming behind me.2
"The end is reconciliation; the end is redemption; the end is the creation of the beloved community". Martin Luther King Jr.
despite the popularity of phrases like “you don’t owe anyone anything,” I strongly believe that we do, in fact owe the communities around us. i believe that we owe it to one another to be responsible global citizens. i believe that when we say we love our friends, family, neighborhoods…we owe it to them to be our best, healthy self.3 I *personally* believe that I owe kindness and clarity to a world bent on cruelty and ambiguity. not letting that kindness become synonymous with foolish of course…I believe that individualism, and especially hyper-individualism, is a poison. and. i say all of this acutely aware of how “community” has been used as a tool of oppression, manipulation, and misinformation. i know firsthand how churches, corporations, and advocacy groups can inspire people to believe in a nonexistent familial bond. how narcissists use “we are a family” to engender loyalty. yes. building community can be a triggering reminder of how alone we are, and how much we have been taken advantage of.
while I wouldn’t even dream of trying to take away the reality of the misuse of communal messaging, my soul is eager to point to a possibly different path. as a deeply introverted and shy man, community is hard for me and my fear of rejection often causes me to hold back pieces of myself. in the name of wisdom, which is really just fear talking, i armor myself against any possible disappointments that life could throw at me.
as a man of faith(s) and sacred stories, I hear the echoes of the disciples as they told Jesus “where else can we go?” declaring their commitment to the one whom their soul loved. i hear the echoes of my ancestors who chose to cling to one another in spite of…well…everything. yes, it is true. oppressors use communal language and aesthetics for their own purposes. but that isn’t the only story. i try to cultivate my need for love and community in simple ways weekly. I surround myself with the books of elders I respect. i regularly look through photos of those i love to remind myself that I am never alone. i text. I call. I say “I am so proud of you.” knowing that one day I will be laid to rest. my time on this side of eternity will be done and I will enter the Great Unknown. my hope is that I made people feel loved deep in their soul. that I made folks feel less alone. I hope.
*Thank you all so much for the ways that you support me on this side of the internet. the folks who share my work. those who are paid subscribers. those who buy me coffees. this phd fella thanks you very much. AND! speaking of community…my love for my friend
and her work is palpable today. will you buy her new book? it is beautiful and even better because Sharifa has a beautiful heart.
a joke that only certain Black folks will understand. whew
my answer made the class uncomfortable and I spent the next twenty minutes listening to people trying to backpedal and reframe their previous answers. sigh. who wants to sound like a jerk?
a bad coping habit of mine used to be disappearing when I was unwell. when grief swallowed me. or depression brought me to my knees. without warning I would simply disappear. in this place, I ignored texts or phone calls for weeks or months at a time. when I would pop up again, smiling and refreshed, I told myself I didn’t owe an explanation to anyone. over the past few years, I have changed my mind. I owe it to those I love to tell them when i’m unwell. tell them that I will be unreachable. tell them that I can’t show up for them in ways that they may need. this is a part of my love ethic. people love me and I am not an island unto myself.
Today I feel compelled to comment on the footnotes.
1. I won't try to sound off on this one! 😂
2. Preaching about this has a similar result, and I, too, sigh and eye-roll. It's work!
3. This is really really beautiful. I love that you've come to find community for yourself that you can feel the responsibility to be your full self in love.
It's telling that *they* feel no obligation to fix past mistakes done by their ancestors yet they're often the ones relying on parental connections/"community" connections(read: privilege) to fix theirs in real time :/