A popular saying has popped up in the zeitgeist recently: “To be a village, you have to be a villager.” It means if you want people — your community — to show up for you, then you need to show up for them, even if it’s a detriment to you. People on TikTok are posting videos of themselves with this sentiment, showing themselves looking miserable or drained as they force themselves to show up for their friends.
I’m not sure if I love this concept or if I think it’s terrible.
It’s true that you can’t just expect people to show up for you time and time again without supporting them in the same way. Relationships that are all take and no give are destined to fail; people will become resentful if they feel used.
In my community, I want to show up for my people. I want them to know I care about them, that they’re loved, and they’re important. Even if I’m tired or not my usual happy self, I show up as much as I’m able to, and I never worry that they’re not going to support me when I need them to.
I believe building long lasting and genuine connections isn’t done by overextending ourselves, showing up when we’re not capable, or lying to others that we’re okay doing something we’re not. The relationships I feel most secure in are grounded in honesty, communication, and understanding.
This “villager” concept abandons all nuances.
It fails to acknowledge that a true community would never want you to overextend yourself or push yourself past your limits just to show up for them. No one can show up every single time, and to expect them to is unrealistic.
This quip also fails to consider that we’re in a time when community is vital and shouldn’t be weaponized. The past few years have been full of major historical, unpredictable, and unprecedented events. The human mind is not made to process the scale of suffering that’s present in the news. Sometimes, you only have the ability to show up for yourself and there’s nothing wrong with that.
To say that being a part of a community is inconvenient concerns me. I’ve never been annoyed with my friends for asking for my help. I think it’s an outright honor to know that my friends view me as someone they want to turn to in a time of need for comfort and/or support; that they trust me to see them when they’re not at their best. I want to help my friends. If I wasn’t willing to show up for them, I’d have to ask myself why and reevaluate the dynamics of our friendship.
If I’ve had a bad week and cannot follow through on plans with my friends, I feel sad because I’d rather be okay enough to participate. But if I’ve reached the point of backing out, my friends know that it’s rooted in seriousness, not selfishness.
There is a way to balance the desire to show up with the need to take care of yourself.
Say I need to cancel plans with a friend because I don’t think I’m up for it. Instead of outright cancelling, I will explain what’s going on. I ask if maybe we stay in instead of going out, or if we can hang at my place instead of theirs. If it’s to a point I can’t actually do anything, I simply ask to reschedule.
The key to self-preservation and maintaining community is compromise. Speak up for what you need and then ask how you can still meet the other person’s needs. It’s not about pride; it’s about mutual respect.
I don’t think taking care of yourself is ever selfish. Getting mad at your friends when they can’t or won’t overextend themselves for you? That’s selfish.