This took me a while to figure out and I'm still not sure how to put it into words, but it's been on my mind a lot the last few years:

"Community" isn't a label you adopt or a party you show up to. It's what you bring to the table.

If you want to feel connected when you walk into the bar, you have to introduce yourself to people and make conversation. If you want to play, you have to approach and ask for what you want. If you want a certain kind of event, you gotta organize, donate, volunteer.

I think it's easy to imagine "the community" as this Big Powerful Organized Thing that owes us understanding and support. Why did the contest not provide ASL interpretation? Why didn't someone welcome me on my first night at the bar and introduce me to everyone? How could Springfield Leather provide the wrong kind of bootblack stand? This community is trash!

These are all great things. We *should* have terps! It's *nice* when someone takes a newcomer under their wing personally.

What you don't necessarily see is that the only local pup who could volunteer to interpret got COVID, and there wasn't money or time to hire a professional. That the organizers of the bar night can't physically keep track of everyone who walks in, or control entry to a bar open to the public. That the committee had a volunteer who put hundreds of dollars and weeks of time into building a bootblack stand, but due to work and illness it wasn't ready in time; the committee improvised.

Broadly speaking, our classes and events run on shoestring budgets. Almost everyone involved is an unpaid, overworked volunteer desperately trying to keep an ungainly plane in the air. Our boards are tiny and piece together events in their free time through a network of personal favors and the goodwill of sponsors. All of this runs on people just like you.

You gotta show up. Buy raffle tickets. Lend your sparkling wit. Volunteer in whatever capacity you can. Sit on committee. That's community.

This goes for informal social spaces too. I spent so long waiting for someone to swoop in and do the work of socializing for me. Finally realized: it's not enough to be open to the possibility of conversation! I have to approach people. And once we start, I gotta be fun to talk to!

Good parties happen because the people who attend put their energy into the space: through dress, demeanor, conversation, play.

@aphyr 1/n I've been trying to figure out how to change behaviors in this space some but also increasingly frustrated. Trying to support others to build / grow space but also getting frustrated when I've done a lot of legwork to try and help their pieces succeed, but can't seem to get basic level of return effort. Most recently event scheduled for over a months but didn't post poster to main channel until less than a week out; did post a photo of their besties to the community org page though...

@aphyr

2/n Things like title contests _can_ be highly mutually beneficial, but lately at least I’ve been running into a lot more of the ancillary baggage than increased fun (People chasing as beauty or popularity contest; exclusionary groups; High barrier to entry / “must own all gear yourself”). When they’re mutually beneficial: Person gets a platform and community gets someone dedicated to helping curate and grow it. Fresh ideas and perspective for a year is really good.

@aphyr 3/n Hard to say if I should just stop trying to help get more orgs/groups off the ground (One org == one point to fail; and has happened repeatedly in this case; I also have plenty of my own biases), or if there’s some approach which will be more effective; but right now just ending up really frustrated and wrung out.
@aphyr 4/4 My events have led to a lot of community growth but when I try to use that to help others trying to get off the ground they don't seem to give a basic standard of care / notice when things go sideways and that ends up harming growth/expansion. People have a bad time, and they abandon/don't come back. When people have fun they bring friends and build more.