Apparently I Build Communities Everywhere I Go
Some people thrive working alone.
They set goals, grind quietly, and build things through pure internal drive.
I’ve learned I’m not wired that way. And for a long time, I thought that meant something was wrong with me.
Growing up, community meant the few blocks between home, school, and the surrounding streets. It was geography. It was proximity.
Now? Community can mean almost anything—a shared vision, a common goal, people who understand what you’re trying to build.
And I’ve noticed something about myself: no matter what I’ve done in my career or where I go in life, I’ve always been drawn to being active in communities. And if one didn’t exist that fit, I’d instinctively build one.
In college, I didn’t pledge a sorority, but I created a group for my friends and me to rally around and express our identity together.
At work, I helped usher in Employee Resource Groups. I was part of the initial leadership for two and mentored someone who started a third.
Outside of work, I accidentally started a writing community that ran for a year.
Most recently, I rallied a few friends and family members into a fitness community.
Pattern, right?
For a long time, I thought this said something negative about me.
I noticed that I don’t show up the same way for myself as I do for others. Solo projects often feel optional to me. Arbitrary even.
But when someone is counting on me, when something matters to other people? Everything changes. I find a way. I show up. I make it work.
I used to think that meant I needed external validation or accountability to accomplish anything meaningful.
But lately, I’ve started to see it differently.
I’m not unmotivated. I’m selective.
I don’t spend much energy grinding alone on things that don’t move the needle. But when something matters—and when it matters to people I care about, I will absolutely show up.
And when a group of people share that same vision?
That’s where the magic happens.
Not in solo genius.
Not in grinding alone.
In collaboration. In accountability. In knowing that other people are invested too.
We’re told the ideal is to be a self-starter. Independent. Completely internally driven. And sure—there’s value in that.
But I suspect a lot of us do our best work in connection with others.
We’re energized by shared purpose. By knowing our effort contributes to something bigger than ourselves.
And if that’s true, then building communities isn’t a distraction from the work.
It is the work.
That’s why I keep building communities.
Not because I set out to.
But because, time and again, I’ve learned that when people come together around something that matters, we accomplish far more than any of us would alone.
I’m curious—have you noticed patterns like this in your own life?
Do you do your best work alone, or when you’re building something with other people?