Everyone Wants a Village, But Are You a Villager?

We live in times of increased isolation. No matter how old you are or which roles you play in life, we’ve all felt lonely at some point. You ask yourself, Do I belong here? You can feel left out, even when you’re around others. You grieve friendships. You outgrow people you once considered among your closest or best friends. Friendship breakups suck. To keep it plain and simple, it’s hurtful.

It’s hard to find depth with others. When was the last time you asked a friend or family member to drop you off at the airport? Take you to a doctor's appointment, or check up on you after a procedure? Cook you a meal? People can “hang out” without saying much to one another. They’re on their phones most of the time, keeping conversations on the surface level.

We even isolate within ourselves and use technology to numb and “stimulate” us. No one wants to be bored anymore, even though that’s how creativity sparks. Mass consumerism has taken advantage of this. We’ve outsourced even the most mundane tasks, from Amazon to TaskRabbit. We’ve been increasingly reliant on Uber and DoorDash. YouTube is free; I just used it to figure out how to change my windshield wipers. Turns out, it’s way easier than I imagined, and I can’t believe that I used to pay for the labor.

Call your friends over to help you build the desk and chair, and as you put these pieces together, talk about the pieces of your heart. When someone asks what you need, we often default to saying, “I’m good,” or “Just make duaa (pray) for me.” When you refuse help, you rob someone of the chance of بركة (blessings). There is a difference between trauma dumping and actually being present with one another when someone is going through so much. We need both emotional and practical support. Are you moving? Okay, let's figure out how many moving boxes you need and what size van.

Cherish your loved ones and the time you have with them. Talk to the elderly; they provide so much wisdom, and they tend to be pretty funny. They could even give you an ego boost! Yes, I am thinking of my friend's grandma who tells me not to marry or befriend someone ugly, and calls me pretty every time I see her. I miss laughing with her and the comfort she gives me, and I sincerely wish she comes back from overseas soon, but not just for the ego boost, I swear!

I just bought a beater Honda Civic. I’ve had girls in the past, but my spidey senses say this car is a boy. I’ve decided to name him Hisham. My village 1000% teases me for naming the car. When I bought Hisham, I had to ask myself, who can drive me to pick up this car? Even though I would do this for anyone, I hesitated, and my first thought was, I’m inconveniencing someone. It can be hard to say what you need, or even that you're not sure what you need, when you’re feeling overwhelmed. Sometimes you say you need a good cry, but it won't come, and it feels stuck. Sometimes you need someone to make you laugh. Any meaningful relationship will have المحبه و العشره (love, companionship, and fondness). I’ll be honest: by default, I tend to be serious, but I always appreciate when my village softens me and brings out the silly side of Sarya. The more comfortable I am with someone, the goofier I get. When life gets in the way of keeping in touch or seeing each other, I am grateful we can pick up right where we left off; we have compassion and understanding with one another, alhamdulillah.

The other day, a friend called me and said, “سارية مشتاقين” (Sarya, I miss you). Although we haven’t known each other for long, I feel that sense of محبه و عشرة (love, companionship, and fondness) with one another. She put me on speaker, and I invited her and our other friends over on a Friday night so we could catch up. What started as a plan to spend a few hours together slowly turned into one of those nights I didn’t realize I needed until I was in it. It became a girls' night filled with depth, laughter, and music, with no sense of urgency for the night to end, so much so that I stayed up WAY past my bedtime. It reminded me of the beginning of college, when staying up and out was the norm. What am I, 18 again? My body was in for a rude awakening in the morning, as my energy levels made it very clear that I am, in fact, not. I listened to my body and used that day to recover, so I chilled and took a fat nap.      

We talk a good game as a Muslim community about saying we need to support <insert marginalized demographic>. What are you doing to support them? How are you supporting them? What have you personally done to contribute? It’s easy to say you’re a friend or advocate. You can show up to a graduation party or a wedding, and even want to be involved in the planning process. But have you been present for their grief when they’re processing the loss of a loved one? Have you made sure that they’ve eaten and had a sip of water when they’ve felt like a shell of themselves? Sit down and ask yourself, when’s the last time you’ve checked in on someone? I’d like you to check in today on someone you’ve been meaning to speak to (I am also holding myself accountable to this)! Whether that is an old friend or someone new whom you’ve met recently. Check in with your neighbor. Knock on their door and introduce yourself. Greet them. Ask them about their day. Offer to help. Drop off something during the holidays, even the ones you don’t celebrate. Show up to your co-worker’s tournament, rec game, or match. Cheer them on and make a sign. When exploring a city and you see something that reminds you of someone you care about, tell them. If you can, get them the thing that reminds you of them.

I asked Amal if she thinks people can develop emotional intelligence with time.

“Yes, if they're willing to. If they’re willing to understand what it means to be emotionally intelligent and go deep into where their emotions come from. How do they do so? Through therapy, or at the very least, self-help books. But there has to be a desire. I think we push [our feelings] down a lot: oh, I’m not allowed to feel that way.” From personal experience, fear drives us to avoid admitting our feelings; it can feel painful, and being vulnerable with someone else can feel scary.

I then asked her to leave readers with one truth about love, friendship, and human connection. “Be yourself. It sounds cliché, but it's true. Be honest. Make sure people know that you love them. Make it awkward.”

I have had the pleasure of asking friends and strangers, from the Mosaic District to the Masjid and the places in between:

“What does having a village or community mean to you?”

“Someone you can rely on.”

“Showing up and recognition.”

“The sharing of ideas shapes how we learn and grow and act as a community.”

“Being able to say salam and greet the person sitting next to you during prayers at the masjid”

“Having a support system, feeling comfortable and safe enough to reach out to people. People who feel welcoming [as they get to] know you. People who treat you like family. It's a lot more prevalent outside of the U.S.”

“I have had friends that reach out because I’m not a judgmental person. Having friends that can feel like they're coming to you. People pleasing is a big thing now, and having a village where you don't feel like you have to do that.”

“Having the ability to rely on someone comfortably. I can rely on this person no questions asked. Just checking in in different ways: what are you doing tonight? Having comfort in saying I’m having a really hard time in the big and small things.”

“It grounds you in a way to have a community and a feeling to be able to bounce ideas. The feeling of not being alone. Being able to share the positive things too. People who are there for you, but also having that feeling of you being there for other people, which feels nice.”

“That's a tough question. To me, it means the ability to sustain yourself, self-reflect, bond, and feel a sense of belonging. It gives you a reason to think beyond yourself and also gives you fuel to move forward and the empowerment to go through difficult times.”

After all, your village helps turn the little moments into memories. Here’s a photo from my most recent hike, which calmed me so much that I was told, “You look zen,” on my first day back at work. I had the privilege of taking this trip with a friend whom I’m grateful to call part of my village.