The other night, I was talking with a friend on campus. Our classes the next day ended about thirty minutes apart, and I felt a little pang of disappointment when I realized that we wouldn’t be walking out together like usual. But without hesitation, he said, “I’ll wait for you.” Just like that. Casual, simple, and yet, it stopped me in my tracks.Â
Maybe I’m dramatic. But in that small gesture, he showed me something profound: a willingness to be personally inconvenienced for the sake of connection. It reminded me of a phrase I’ve seen floating around online a lot recently: “The price of community is inconvenience.”
Possibly derived from an April 2025 TIME Magazine article, the phrase has sparked discussions on social media platforms, with one TikTok video receiving over 300,000 likes.
Community is a wonderful thing, but it comes with a cost. Everyone wants a village, but far fewer are willing to be a villager. We need to let go of the idea that friendship should always be effortless. Sometimes you must stretch yourself a little further to build your community.Â
In other words, to build community, you must participate in the community. It means saying, “I’ll wait for you,” even when you’d rather go home now. It means going to plans you made, even when you’re tired. It’s being the person who greets everyone who walks into a room, the one who asks someone to continue when they’ve been interrupted, and the one who always finds a few minutes to help an acquaintance. It’s choosing to be radically considerate, grateful, and kind in your interpersonal dynamics, even when it’s mildly inconvenient.
The reality is, sometimes you will be a chore to love. Sometimes I will be, too. Real friendship isn’t about showing up only when it’s easy or convenient; it’s about loving your friends enough to recognize that even their inconveniences are part of the gift of having them.
“Real friendship isn’t about showing up only when it’s easy or convenient; it’s about loving your friends enough to recognize that even their inconveniences are part of the gift of having them.”
We need to disregard the idea that we, as a community, don’t owe each other anything. I do believe that you owe your friends a helping hand and a listening ear. I do believe that you owe people politeness and grace, even when you’re annoyed. I do believe that you owe your community a certain baseline level of kindness.
I believe that you owe your friends friendship, even when they have nothing tangible to give you in return in the moment. Hyper-individualism not only leaves you without a community to fall back on, but it also diminishes your own joy. There is joy not only in being loved, but in loving others, too.
I would even go so far as to say that the price of happiness is practicing it in your community. Joy originates from within. When you radiate joy, it radiates back. If the good can’t seem to find you, be the good that finds others in your community.Â
Neither joy nor community is scarce. They are an exponential growth that multiplies the more you practice them. When you throw that effort out into the world, it always comes back to you.
So, to my friends: yes, I’ll proofread your essay, or drive you to the airport, or let you come over to chat when I’d rather be alone. Of course I will. You’re my friends, and we are the community we keep asking for.
I’ve reframed my perspective. What a gift it is, really, to be “inconvenienced” by so many people. To let selflessness become second nature and to recognize that every interruption, every inconvenience, every tug on our limited time in this life is just another reminder that we are needed, wanted, and loved.
Community and friendship, to me, mean saying: “Yes, you may inconvenience me sometimes, but you are worth every inconvenience in the world.”
So, the next time the litany of excuses to bail out on plans is bouncing around in your mind, take a moment to consider if the price of long-term community is worth the temporary inconvenience to you. Chances are, it is.