Aya Collective Publishing

Written by Ebony Aya, January 26

When my sister and I became adults, we noticed a change in my mother. Though she always leaned towards solitude, her isolation increased. First there was a break with her small circle of friends and then there was a falling out at her church. Nearing retirement, with a refusal from her employer to pay unemployment benefits after she was terminated, she downsized her apartment, and cloistered off from the world. She became afraid to engage with much of anything and manufactured an identity from her self imposed alienation. 

That was 13 years ago, and her health has steadily deteriorated since. Her life, however, provides a poignant lens through which to understand the critical need for community. This lesson has been on my mind recently, particularly in light of Donald Trump’s inauguration as the 47th President of the United States. In times of uncertainty and fear about what lies ahead, the temptation to retreat into isolation can be strong. As Cole Arthur Riley observes, the wounds of “not being embraced or known or cared for well by those whom you have longed to know and care for you” can push us further from the connections we need most. Yet it is precisely in these moments that we must resist the urge to withdraw and instead lean into the power of community and connection.

Now is the time to lean into our systems of support. Now is the time to build and sustain community and connections, rather than hiding away because of the intensity of the moment. We don’t know what’s ahead of us with this new administration. What we do know is that we must prioritize the spaces we have that are nourishing. And if we don’t have them, we must create them so we, together with our families and communities, can make it to the other side.

In a country that prizes independence, it can be hard to recognize how essential interdependence is. We need others just as much as we need air and water; we simply cannot thrive in isolation, no matter how much we may convince ourselves otherwise. So much of our societal suffering stems from the insistence on individualism out of fear of being hurt.

I recognized this right around the time my mother was diagnosed with dementia three years ago. When she was diagnosed, she was only 70 and I understood that the early prevalence had to do with her isolating from society for ten years. Her diagnosis coincided with my own need for support as I finished my doctoral dissertation, navigated several major life transitions, and tried to care for her. During these challenges, I turned to God for help. My prayers were answered through deeper connections with friends and family, ensuring I didn’t face those dark days alone.

At the same time, my research on the experiences of Black women in higher education  revealed that a lack of community is one of the things that keeps us from finishing our degrees. This led me to develop what I call the integrated ecosystem of support, a model to identify where one’s support system is thriving and where it is lacking. It calls us to identify our internal system of support, what we do for ourselves to keep ourselves well, as well as the familial/social, faith/communal, material, and institutional supports that we rely on.

The model is heavily focused on identifying and leaning on our familial and social connections for wellbeing. And while I constructed this model for Black women, it can enhance wellness for everyone. As human beings, we all need to be held up by those closest to us even as we support and hold each other up. Reciprocity is crucial because it can be too easy to allow caregiving to fall to one person, usually based on race, gender, and other socioeconomic factors. In recognizing our systems of support, we must not only recognize where we are getting support, but where we are giving it as well. 

This is easier said than done, especially given the pervasive mistrust within our society and across racial lines. For example, during the election cycle, a myth circulated that Black men were less likely to support Kamala Harris. Yet exit polls showed that Black men, Black women, and Latina women were her strongest supporters. Such myths deepen mistrust not only of Harris but within our community itself. Much of this mistrust is fueled by external forces—politicians and media narratives that aim to divide—but it also arises when we harm one another within our own communities. We have much to learn about treating those we find kinship with dignity and kindness.

Perhaps the hardest challenge is owning our mistakes and offering grace to those who have hurt us. Centuries of mistreatment and ongoing racism have led to cycles of pain that often harm those closest to us. These grievances are real and can threaten to tear us apart. Yet, despite the difficulty, turning toward each other is one of the most urgent tasks before us. Healing and resilience are only possible within the bonds of community; they cannot happen in isolation.

And if you are looking to build community – Aya Collective Publishing is here for you. Connect with us today and join an expanding community of writers.