The Invisible Impact of Everyday Community

The longer I work among online and offline communities, the more I think about communities as less like a dessert, and more like taking vitamins.

Desserts are occasional treats, momentary indulgences. But vitamins are essentials that only make a difference if you commit to them daily. Communities are just the same; they only have long-term impact if you invest in consistent upkeep and nurturing.

Like vitamins, the effects of strong communities are often invisible, subtle enough that we might take them for granted. Maybe you get a surge of energy, or have a funny feeling that you’re sleeping a bit better. But it’s hard to prove that the reason you didn’t get sick when your kids brought home the flu from daycare is that you’ve been taking vitamins. 

And this is what drives community-builders like me crazy when well-meaning peers or colleagues ask for the data-driven proof of any individual action or initiative. Rather than ask, “What’s the long-term impact of a healthy community” we reach instead for short-term vanity metrics. Things like, “How many people showed up?” and “Did they have a good time?”

What happens instead, as community-builders, is that we get hung up on tracking attendance, counting RSVPs, and setting up surveys on a short-term basis, trying to validate our impact with each isolated event. But this short-sighted focus, often driven by well-intentioned but anxious leaders, risks missing the bigger picture.

It’s impossible to prove, really, that the presence of community is the reason why people make better choices. But we know that people in strong communities are more likely to be civically minded, less lonely, and even live longer.

So how do you know if your community is working? 

Community-building is rarely linear; its impact unfolds organically and unexpectedly. While over time more people might join, it takes a long, sometimes discouraging, build-up before those numbers feel significant. Take it from me: It’s not worth counting until much, much later. You have to build the muscle of momentum first before any lasting impact can take hold.

Let’s take my block association as an example. This summer, with the support of the Cabin Neighborhood Accelerator program, I decided to jumpstart a community on my Upper West Side block, West 75th Street.

As of June 2024, I knew about 3 people on my block. I spent all summer working to improve those numbers. I hosted lemonade stands, rooftop hangs, and park picnics. I hung fliers and started WhatsApp groups and literally accosted people on the streets to meet them and collect their phone numbers. Most of these events were relatively low in attendance, with under 10 participants at most of them. On paper, this is absolutely not a success.

By the end of the summer, I had about 50 names and numbers of people on the block and we had officially rebranded our name to be called “The Manhattan 75.” Of those 50 people, I’d put about half of them into the bucket of “cares enough to want the work to happen, but not to get involved directly.” Then there was another 5 who started to step up in tiny, micro ways: Maybe they offer a new idea, or offer a “give” back to the neighborhood (like leaving a piece of furniture or some books out for neighbors), or they take ownership of something small (like calling 311 when the building water goes out). 

I’d hoped for more steady collaborators, but only one person stepped up consistently. It was discouraging, especially after weeks of outreach. Then, after a one-month absence in September, I returned from a trip away feeling that I’d lost all momentum. 

When I got back to work in October, I was surprised to hear that a couple of people had been waiting for me, including a former block coordinator who still had access to a google group email list of about 120 names, which had been largely dormant since 2018. We quickly got together and conceptualized a smaller scoped event idea: “Coffee on the Curb” and used some remaining funds from an old bank account to cover the costs of two boxes of coffee and some treats.

Another surprise: It became our best-attended event, drawing 30 attendees, including local officials. Our follow-up email also surfaced several “dormant” neighbors who quickly began stepping up once I’d introduced myself as the new block steward.

One person, inspired by our initial installation of a small raised bed in an open tree well, is keen on doubling down on block beautification efforts with bulb planting this fall. Someone else offered to host our next planning meeting at his building. We’re now rejoining the UWS Coalition, an alliance of other block associations in our neighborhood, and planning for a lightweight holiday gathering. There’s talk of banding together to form a “rat pack.”

A metrics-driven person might look at this story and suggest something like, “Well, clearly, Coffee on the Curb was the only successful event. Just do more of those.”

But that’s missing the bigger picture. Without the groundwork of low-key neighborhood events, I wouldn’t have met the former block leaders, nor built the connections that made these gatherings feel friendly and informal. Building my building’s trust took those small-group, casual pizza parties and rooftop hangs—without that core connective tissue, it’s hard to get people invested in the work itself.

So if you're in the early stages of investing in a community and aren't yet seeing the traction you'd hoped for, don't get discouraged. Just keep investing in small daily doses of community-building; the invisible impact might surprise you.