What Does Community Mean?

Last week, I had no intention of writing about open source principles, and how we might use them to build more than just software. There was something else I wanted to write about, but I wasn't quite sure how to go about it. To be honest, I'm still not sure, but as always, this newsletter not a space for perfectionism but for playing with ideas. So let's go on this journey together, shall we?

As most of you know, the Jewish High Holy Days began this week. Monday was Erev Rosh Hashanah, aka New Year's Eve. My upbringing was pretty secular, so my personal traditions around most holidays have been and remain a work in progress. Perhaps unsurprisingly, since I've been in New York these past six years, that work has been a little more active than it was in, say, Sweden, Colorado, or even California. And by active I mean that, beyond finding the best hamantaschen in town (Michaeli Bakery) and trying to spend Passover with friends whenever possible, I've tried to be better about observing Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. For gentiles, this is kind of like showing up to church at Easter or Christmas—as in, it's the sort of the least I can do.

There are bigger reasons I've thought more about the High Holy Days, though. The Jewish new year is not just a celebration but a time of real introspection and reflection. And you know me: What's a party if not an opportunity to get into a very serious conversation with a stranger immediately upon arrival. I won't go into much detail (mostly for fear of getting anything embarrassingly wrong), but these days are about taking stock of ourselves and our lives, atoning, and trying to set a path–or fate–for the year to come. Your actions on Rosh Hashanah are believed to have enormous impact on the rest of your year.

Now, I confess that I did not spend Monday or Tuesday attending services. But last week's newsletter and certainly this week's are, in a sense, part of my personal holiday observation this year. This is me beginning as I mean to go on.

Over the past few weeks, I've been helping a very dear friend of mine. To respect her privacy, I will refer to her only as M. M is an immigrant who moved here a few decades ago and who, like many immigrants, came here under extremely difficult circumstances in order to escape circumstances that were somehow even worse. Some years ago, in an effort to find a path toward a more legal status (legality in the eyes of the government, not in any broader cultural opinion of what should or should not constitute legality), she found lawyers who said they willing to help. They helped themselves to her money and to her hope, and in return she received a work permit and absolutely no sense of what was going to happen when the government finally reviewed the application these lawyers filed on her behalf. The application that has now worked its way through the system, and it puts my friend in real danger of deportation.

I have a lot of thoughts on many aspects of this situation. I could write a lot on the sliding scales of morality and justice, and about how one type of law–border crossing–is somehow deemed more abhorrent than laws citizens break every day without thinking twice. I could write volumes on the ways that most immigrants I know are the embodiment of what I believe America could and should be, what it is meant to be, far more so than plenty of native-born citizens, including myself. I could write a searing indictment of so-called professionals who prey on people with little money and a lot of desperation. I could write plenty about a system that is so convoluted, broken, and unbalanced that it is a wonder anyone survives it.

But I will hold off on all that for now, because what I want to write about this New Year is you. And me. All of us, and how we intend to go on.

When my friend came to me a few weeks ago and showed me the notice she received about an upcoming interview at the immigration office, I was immediately concerned. It's hard not to be freaked out these days, given everything we see and hear about ICE and the current administration's efforts around immigration and deportations. I was more than regular old freaked out though. Some months back, we'd briefly talked about her situation, and what she told me set off my spidey senses. I'd wanted to reach out to some immigration lawyers then, to find out if her lawyers were as shady as I suspected, but I held off. As close as we are, who was I to insert myself into someone else's life like that? And really, what could I do?

This time, however, I had no compunction. Now there was a real problem: An impending interview, and a paralegal informing my friend that the lawyers would not–in fact, legally could not– accompany her. I knew it was bullshit, and I knew we had no time to waste.

An aside: I am extraordinarily good in a crisis. Can I organize my home or my work? No. Do I get lost in my own ideas and stories, and do I sometimes struggle to put together a big project when I have all the time in the world? Yes. But give me an emergency, and no one is better to lead the charge. NO ONE. All of my skills come together in a laser-like focus, and I am TAKING CHARGE.

In quick succession, I got recommendations on resources for accompanying my friend to anything immigration-related, and I also got a recommendation for an immigration defense lawyer. I scheduled a paid consult with that lawyer, got permission from my friend (who speaks very little English) to explain the situation to the lawyer on her behalf, confirmed with the lawyer how bad the situation was and learned what our few options were, arranged with the lawyer to hire her and have her accompany my friend and a translator to the interview, and told my friend that if need be, I would pay the lawyer and we'd figure it out later. Luckily, her boss, her husband's boss, and some of her clients all wanted to pitch in, so in short order I also gathered thousands of dollars in contributions. All of this in under three weeks.

Now, I don't tell you this to make myself look good. To be completely honest, I'm doing this for partly selfish reasons. I love this person and I need her in my life, right here in New York City. No, I'm telling you this because most of the people I've talked to have wanted to help, but they've felt like I did before this all kicked off: Lost and unsure where to begin or what to do besides give money. Even with all the resources out there, people still don't really know what to do to help. The new lawyer has said to me, more than once, "It's nice to talk to someone who cares so much. Most people don't care. They wouldn't do this, and they certainly wouldn't offer to pay if need be. We need more people like you in the world."

But you guys, the thing is: There are more people like me in the world. I'm willing to bet most of you are like me. Even if you're not quite as ready to jump in and take charge, you want to help. You hate feeling helpless and useless. Giving money is great, but could you do more? Where do you begin?

This is kind of where last week's exploration of open source principles came from. I know, it sounds extremely hokey to be like, ah yes, now let's apply some principles of product development in order to individual paralysis into grassroots community action. I am well aware that there are many people skilled and deeply versed in community organizing and enabling participation. I'm not about to suggest we disrupt with some cool shit I learned in the tech industry.

Well, ok, maybe I am. Just a little! I'm know!! I'm sorry! But I can't stop thinking about Add Yours, and then the Notes feature from my time at Instagram. As well-intentioned as people may be, most of them need more than a sense of "I feel bad and wish I could do something." They certainly need something other than to be yelled at for participating wrong. They need templates, activities they can identify as familiar and safe, peers they can follow or social groups that provide safety in numbers. There's a reason that most people say "tell me how I can help, tell me what I can do." Very few people just take over and go hire a new lawyer and arrange everything! Only extremely intense and/or somewhat overbearing people do that! We don't need more people like me. We need more ways to help people identity what small acts they can take, who they can help, what is in their power and comfort zone to do. Comfort zones cannot be damned, I am sorry to say, because they are part of human nature, and we have much bigger evils to fight.

Everywhere you look right now, everywhere you go, I bet there is someone who is confronted by some aspect of this current moment they are ill-equipped to deal with. Maybe they had shitty, unscrupulous lawyers, and they don't know how to find someone who isn't. Maybe they don't speak English very well. Maybe they don't know how to navigate bureaucracies, or raise money, or deal with all the logistics of immigration, or healthcare, or any of the other institutions that are not built for individuals to understand or survive without community support, an advocate, a friend. Could you make phone calls for someone? Could you help them figure out if they were getting the care they needed? Could you break down how to navigate health insurance or some other awful behemoth? Could you get to know a person enough that they could trust you to help them when shit hit the fan? Could you build templates or flow charts? Seriously, could you? Because I want some flow charts that help explain all the steps of various immigration paths and processes, as well as for healthcare and more. This shit is so confusing for me, and I am a native English speaker with unreasonable amounts of education and experience! How is anyone who is literally trying to survive supposed to make sense of it?

These are the sorts of things I want to build. Yes, I want to build better, more supportive digital spaces and communities. But what I've been doing these past few weeks feels integral to that world and that future. Because lately I've asked myself over and over: "What does community mean?" It means showing up for the people I love. It means going all in on helping one person, one family, to the best of my ability. It means encouraging others to find that one person or family so they can do the same. It means making a 1% change in someone else's life, rather than trying to make it only in my own.

Shana Tova, everyone. See you next Wednesday.

Lx