the power of presence

today, while joe and i were supposed to be working on our schoolwork, we ended up talking about community and survival instead. i was sitting on my bed, joe in the chair next to me, both of us trying to focus but finding small reasons not to. the conversation came up naturally, the way important ones usually do. we started talking about how individualistic western culture is, and how different things are back home for him in burundi.

he told me that in canada he is grateful to have a brother and a sister already here, because so many of his friends came to study alone and had to build their communities from nothing, if they even did build a community. back home, he said, if someone was struggling, every neighbour would be at the house. it did not matter what time it was or what anyone had going on. if there was a death, neighbours, coworkers, family, and friends would surround you from sunrise to sunset. if there was a birth, the same thing would happen. life was met collectively.

he talked fondly about his father. he described him as the kind of person who could meet someone one day and show up to their celebration the very next day if invited, even if they had just met. he kept coming back to the same idea as he spoke. the power of presence. he said it a few times. that there is so much power in simply being there for someone, even if you do not say much, even if you do not know what to say at all. being there matters.

i think about that a lot. i think about how much it helped me last year to be surrounded by presence. friends, my chosen family. weeks and days passed in my old apartment where i could not leave the house, where i could not leave the bed, even. and still, people showed up for me. my partners, their partners, my closest friends. every week i suffered in that house, i was not truly alone.

my people showed up for me in real, tangible ways. joe helped me do my laundry. fred fed me. bo came to clean with us. ana helped with the dishes. z and lex brought me weed and company. they took turns doing all of it. most importantly, they sat with me. they made art with me. they lived at my pace. they brought me glimmers through the darkness when i needed it most. and i did need it. i survived on it.

when i curled up crying at night, the next morning fred would come and laugh me back to life with cigarettes and long conversations. when everything felt unbearable, joe held me and made the world quiet again. this community, these people, i have to be proud of myself for them. i have to recognize that in my own way, i knew i was suffering and that i needed this kind of support.

i organized these visits. i cherished these people. i showed up for them too, even when it was hard. community takes work. community is emotional labor. i try my best to communicate clearly and maturely to maintain beautiful friendships and keep my chosen family close. i have to be proud of that.

i think one of the reasons western culture is so individualistic is because capitalism and colonialism benefit from isolating us. they want us to believe that the emotional labor of community is not worth the effort. that only work tied to money, productivity, or status matters. if we depended on each other too much, we would start to see the cracks in these systems. we would realize we do not need landlords or bosses or presidents or ceos in the way we are told we do. we would realize that what we actually need is each other.

we need community. we need love and kindness and communication. we need strong support networks where everyone has a role, no matter what that role looks like. many hands make lighter work. i think about early humans and how we were meant to live in groups, supporting each other through our different skills and abilities. i may not want to live like an early human, but i do want that kind of life. a life where survival and thriving belong to the unit, not just the individual.

one last thing joe told me this morning has stayed with me. a friend from his childhood lost his father. they had gone to the same school and sat on the same bench in grade school because their last names were next to each other alphabetically. both of them eventually came to canada to study. when joe heard what had happened, he called him and asked if there was anything he needed, if he could come over. when he arrived, many people were already there. they were not fixing anything. they were talking, laughing, sitting together, being present. and there is the power of presence. no need to fix things, just being there is enough.