Participating in a Neighborhood (Community) Accelerator

It’s always been tough to truly measure the value of a strong community.

While you might agree it’s important to have a community, the daily upkeep tends to fall by the wayside of flossing. You might wish you'd done more while you're stuck in the dentist’s chair with bleeding gums. But by the time you get back home, in your own bathroom, it's a bit harder to remind yourself to change that day-to-day habit.

Is community itself a nice-to-have? Or is it a critical essential ingredient to build robustness in any ecosystem? As a lifelong community-builder, I’ve seen this tension emerge in many different contexts. But it’s (still) hard.

Even if you believe a strong community has value (as I do), it can be tough to generate the motivation (and the consistency required) to get started. Which is why I'm so excited to participate in a neighborhood accelerator this summer.

Built by the team that conceptualized Cabin DAO, the Cabin City team has convened a group of 16 “citizens” from cities all over the world who want to catalyze hyper-local communities. Each week, we are coached through exercises, mentorship, and peer discussion as we incrementally plan the first 13 weeks of community growth. 

(By the way, this isn’t not rocket science: It starts with the most basic of community principles: Knocking on doors to meet your neighbors.)

I’m joining to start or galvanize a local block association for West 75th Street on the Upper West Side, where I live. So far, I know about 15 people on my block (mostly in my building). We’ve hosted just one event. We have a long way to go.

I’m excited to bring together my neighbors because I believe that connection and the community is the key to long-term city living. I want to feel like I have some small amount of ownership into making the place I live just a little bit better, and I want others around me to feel the same. 

But in New York City, it sometimes feels hard to embark on an altruistic endeavor without immediately politicizing something. Even now, I’ve already been asked what our “block platform” might be, what “gripes” we have for the city, and whether I want to run for office. It's making me wonder: Do we under-value the power of community and connection for its own sake? Is political organizing a natural by-product of any community organizing effort?

In our Cabin City summer cohort, there are a few dedicated mentors who are further along in their own efforts of cultivating strong neighborhoods. Last week we heard from Shani Graham, who runs a sustainable living community near Perth, Australia called Ecoburbia. 

She told us about several emergent efforts from their constituency, including tea time, crafting gatherings, and an annual highlight of a singular “long table dinner” down the entire block. What impressed me was that she’s been able to encourage people to step up and run their own initiative, to keep things moving for four years straight, without any regular meetings.

(Can you imagine?)

It might sound too squishy or touchy-feely to you. But as Shani later learned, there was a clear value behind all of this community work: Resiliency. When the COVID pandemic took hold, their neighborhood discovered that they had already developed the organizational muscle to self-organize. As a result, it became easier to react in a time of crisis. People stepped up immediately. A psychologist ran support groups, they ordered toilet paper and hand sanitizer in bulk, they even set up (COVID-compliant) scavenger hunts for kids. To provide a little levity, someone drove a pickup truck around the block, with musicians on top playing songs for neighbors in their front yards.

You can hear more about this story in Shani’s TED Talk. It's a real inspiration for what's possible after years of persistent, consistent effort. My guess is that people in her neighborhood felt far less lonely than people on my block in New York City, where I felt lucky just to wave to a fellow masked stranger in Central Park. 

When I brought my New York neighbors together for the first time this weekend, I was surprised to see how much even one small gesture delighted the building. I received many text messages of gratitude. Many sheepishly acknowledged how, despite seeing each other in the halls so often, we always felt too embarrassed to strike up conversation. Too busy, perhaps, caught up in the city frenzy.

The following day, our WhatsApp thread buzzed with content that I didn’t seed (yes, it was about our building’s cockroach problem, but still). And someone I hadn’t previously met texted to let me know about a large package that arrived downstairs. (Notably, she also volunteered to help me make fliers for a larger gathering in the future.)

Will one rooftop gathering change the world? No. But through shared accountability and trust, I believe incredible value will be unlocked over time. And just like Shani, I hope I’ll be surprised by the shape it takes on.

I guess that's why it's important to floss every day.