Last weekend was a lesson in community for me, large and small. I drove 3 hours into rural upstate NY to a town so small Waze couldn’t find it. The goal? To find common ground with folks on the opposite side of the political aisle. Through Braver Angels, we gathered for 3 hours at an unheated elementary school that had taxidermed moose and deer on the walls. And no, we didn’t talk about politics. We started by disassembling our own biases, inconsistencies, and hypocrisies – in ourselves and on our side of the aisle. It was powerful work.
I then drove to Troy, NY, a working-class town that is valiantly building itself back and into something new. I ate at Sunhee’s Farm and Kitchen and had the best scallion kimchi pancakes and gochujang chicken over rice. As I sat, slowly drinking two cups of ginger honey tea, I read the bulletin board propped by the door that offered jobs to anyone who needed work that day on their farm. There were free English lessons, access to support resources, and a friendly connection to Russell Sage College for anyone to sit and just talk to other members of the community. Amazing. That little restaurant was like a warm hug for the city on a gray fall day.
I walked around to see the coffee, vintage record, and cool thrift shops between boarded-up storefronts and broken windows at the Troy Pork Store and the faded Uneeda Biscuit sign. The juxtaposition of decay and emergence was palpable. It was like watching a dandelion trying to survive between cracks in the pavement.
And then pow! I turned a corner to see an alley full of artists on ladders and hydraulic lifts painting gorgeous murals on some of the most blighted buildings in the city. It felt like sunshine and oxygen that only art and culture can unleash. Musicians played. Ladies sold empanadas and spicy grilled chicken legs. It reminded me how our creativity fuels us from the inside out and the outside in and somehow brings us together with our own unique interpretations. The Troy Art Block felt like a catalyst. Those of us in innovation know that sensation and it’s glorious.
I drove the three hours home in a rainstorm, reflecting on my responsibility to create, keep, and foster community. Last weekend, I decided to reach out and connect with people whose views are 180° different than mine. To slow down and see where I can help a stranger. To reconnect to my own creativity and be courageous enough to share it. I’m deeply grateful for the lessons I’m still learning.
PS: I did the Braver Angels work because I am tired of losing friends over political disagreements or rage-scrolling over misinformation. I’m exhausted by politicians whose goal is to tell stories that divide us for their own gains and TV time. I want to opt for something better, and these experiences proved to me that there is a way to do it right in our communities, and it starts with me.
Where does your storytelling start? Comment below or message me. I’d love to learn more about the stories we tell ourselves, how we share them in our communities and where you think we can all do better.
