Habari gani, folks? (By the way, this is a “traditional” Kwanzaa greeting meaning “What’s the news?” in Swahili!)
Today we celebrate Ujima, a Swahili word for “collective work and responsibility.” This speaks to the multi-faceted, intersectional nature of our shared struggle. Inequality (and white supremacy) is a hydra that targets groups with different tactics, but the myriad problems have one common root cause. So, our kin’s problems are our problems. None of us are free until all of us are free.
When it became clear that COVID would be a big deal in Spring 2020, I realized we couldn’t rely on the federal government to lead us out of the pandemic. It was clear that the Trump administration was not equipped to deal with a crisis; in fact, by then it was clear they couldn’t handle the basic functions of government. When he was elected I figured that we minorities would have to look after ourselves, organizing our own mutual-aid networks as we could. The COVID pandemic was a great way to put theory into practice.
I’m not sure what anyone else did, but I didn’t invest in any of that through the pandemic. It was enough just to keep working while navigating through that drastic social upheaval, and while I developed a new appreciation for my friends ever since it feels like a real missed opportunity to not double down on building a stronger community with like-minded folks. That work takes careful thought, a deep well of compassion, and enough patience to handle competing demands from group members who aren’t the best at being diplomatic. As any convention volunteer will tell you, organizing anything for a community is a difficult and thankless job. Why would anyone willingly put themselves through that?
Because a community is a living, breathing thing that requires care and feeding to survive. It’s one thing to help a neighbor going through a difficult time, but it’s another thing entirely to set up a way that any neighbor going through a difficult time can get the same help. In order to build a group that can take care of itself, there needs to be a mechanism of care that doesn’t rely on any one individual. In order to truly be part of a group, we need to understand the group is bigger than ourselves and be mindful of what that means.
Many of us don’t have a great history with groups, and that makes us instinctively suspicious of them. We reject the idea of self-sacrifice for the sake of the group — maybe because of those bad experiences, or maybe because we see how quickly groups fall into infighting, hypocrisy, and toxic power dynamics. Groups repress individuality to make one aspect of life more important than all others. When we think of joining a group, we think of a pack of high-school sports players making life miserable for everyone around them or a small army of evangelicals threatening to harass anyone within earshot until they convert. As Americans, we grow up with the sacred myth of the Exceptional Individual who shuns the group for their own singular vision.
But this is a fallacy that has done us enormous harm. As human beings we’re social animals struggling against our selfish lizard brains, so the tension between individuality and belonging is an essential part of our experience. Each of us will find a different sweet spot within that tension — some of us are natural joiners, while some of us prefer fewer, or looser, connections. Make no mistake, though: every one of us belongs to a community of some description. That’s because every one of us shares important common interests with those around us.
Whether it’s a love for furry animals, the desire to live in a peaceful neighborhood with cool people, or the use of the local supermarket, we float in and out of communities all the time. Today is a good day to think about the communities we’re in, the work that goes into maintaining those communities, and what share of the work we can take on.
It doesn’t even have to be something big. In our furry communities, we could simply choose to boost the people, art, stories, and conversations that make them more like the ones we’re excited to be a part of. At the supermarket, maybe put back that item where it belongs instead of where you changed your mind about buying it — or bring back an extra cart from the parking lot. In our neighborhoods, get to know the folks we see regularly like our baristas, mail carriers, delivery drivers. Communities don’t have to be the hornet’s nest we expect them to be. They can be a real-life Animal Crossing island, full of weirdness and unique people.
I’ve vowed to consciously expand my definition of “community” in 2024, so how will my sense of ujima adapt?
For many reasons, I have trouble being a reliable person. I say “yes” too often, without a proper understanding of what I’m signing up for, so I tend to overpromise and underdeliver. It’s hard for me to maintain a consistent schedule, so anything requiring a daily commitment requires a minor miracle to pull off. My memory is a sieve, so unless I can write something down in a place I’m likely to look for it I’ll forget it exists. I’ve spent some time compensating for these, and while I’ve made a bit of progress there’s still a lot more I could be doing.
So, for me, the best way to work on ujima is to simply be more reliable. Do what I say I will do. Find ways to be more consistent. Get a more robust, more efficient second brain. And be mindful about what’s important to my friends; do what I can to give them their best chance at success.
I hope that by being more mindful about my place in the group and my responsibility to its success, I can learn to be a more thoughtful person. And honestly, the strides I’ve taken this year to be more intentional with that perspective have made me happier. Knowing that I contributed to the happiness of others, that I’ve helped to foster and deepen connections, gives me a sense of contentment that feels…new. It also helps me to recognize similar actions people have taken for me, and that makes me incredibly grateful.
Changing my perspective on communities has been an unanticipated lifehack this year, and I’m excited about the ways I can carry that momentum forward in 2024. I’d love to hear from all of you now. What are some ways you plan to incorporate ujima into your lives next year?
From the Desk of Jakebe T. Rabbit 