CFC Blog #175: The Fringes of Community
I never really discussed this with others, but one of the major reasons I decided I no longer wanted to be a part of Club Tennis after my freshman year of college was because it was ironically too "clubby." During that entire year, I noticed that the members already had their cliques and friend groups that weren't super inclusive towards new members. I was somewhat surprised by the smaller communities that existed within this club, and it turned me away. Granted I probably also could have tried harder to make friends with older members, but a larger part of me made me want to withdraw completely and play tennis on my own time with a few friends.
Lauren's blog makes me more profoundly reflect on what the word "community" really means - I personally think when I join a community I should quickly feel that it's a good fit, that my presence matters, and that other members share similar values and goals. And if it doesn't, I can find peace with simply not being a part. Thank you Lauren - your personal story inspires me to ponder new ideas..
- Amanda
THE FRINGES OF COMMUNITY
I work remotely a majority of the time, and last week I decided to do a free trial with KettleSpace, a group that partners with restaurants in New York that are only open for dinner, transforming them into a coworking space during the day. Anyone can try them out for free for 7 days, so I thought why not?
The location closest to my apartment is a pretty unassuming restaurant that shares a building with the Czech Consulate on 73rd street. When I arrived, I was pleased to find only about seven people spread out around the room, either working silently on their laptops or in small groups. A KettleSpace employee greeted me when I walked in, gave me a short tour, and then I sat down with a black coffee to get to work.
Now I had walked past this restaurant many times as a Yorkville resident and never even noticed it. But – as I learned that day – it apparently catches a lot of people’s eyes. Because within my first few hours there, about ten different people walked into the restaurant thinking they could get breakfast (despite the massive KettleSpace sign outside) and this poor KettleSpace employee had to explain to them every time why they couldn’t order food, but why there were still people sitting here eating and working.
People tended to understand right away, say ‘thanks anyway,’ and go about their day. By the fifth person or so, this routine had become rather comical, and I could feel a sense of comradery with the couple of people in the room every time this happened. We all looked at each other with a small smile, like we were all in on a joke together (I offered to Pip earlier this week that humor was a key part in some of my earliest communities growing up).
At some point, a woman in maybe her 40’s walked in, asked if they were serving breakfast, and the routine started again. This woman didn’t seem to get the concept though and started to ask a lot of questions quite loudly, almost accusingly. I think one of my fellow KettleSpace-rs had reached her limit, because she giggled aloud to her colleague sitting next to her.
The woman consequently heard her and snapped, “What is so funny? I’m just asking a question. Why can’t I ask a question?” The woman who laughed apologized and explained that it was only funny because this pattern kept happening. But it was still very awkward.
At first I thought this woman was very rude to be snarky like that, but it occurred to me that was a pretty human reaction to be on the outside of something looking in. I have little doubt that in her head she was simply thinking “why don’t I get to be a part of this?” and that manifested in bitterness. She was on the outside fringes of our little joke, like she didn’t belong and couldn’t for some reason, and that's something I never want to feel.
By definition a community has people who are a part of it and some people who are not. Some people will not care (because the community is not a good fit, or they have no desire to participate)…but some people will care. Maybe a lot. I wondered if this was the “dark side” of community, but I don’t think that is the right phrase; I think it is more so a somewhat unavoidable consequence that must be managed thoughtfully. Sometimes a community just can’t give you what you need. I hope that woman found a great breakfast not too far away.