Invite them anyway

People might not show up to your thing. Or they might be awkward. Or they might not immediately invite you back. And yet...

I’m writing this from a plane to Seattle, fueled by anticipatory nerves and complimentary Biscoff cookies. Somewhere in the cargo hold below me, there’s a large dark walnut box with fifty coffee-cup sized compartments, currently empty. Many of you have heard about this project I’m kicking off (a yearlong relay of community gatherings in every state), but it’s less important that you understand the mechanics than the miracle of it all. I’m in town for a potluck with a group of South Seattleites, most of whom didn’t know each other a couple years ago. They exist now because their founder sat on a bench at their farmer’s market, a few weeks in a row, and asked “would you like to know a neighbor?”

They’re not strangers anymore, these Columbia City community builders. They’re a real group, because they received a few invitations in a row and responded in kind. And now they’re also part of this relay (as is a church-that’s-asking-all-the-right-questions in Portland, an all-bodies-welcome gym in San Francisco, a community food hub on the island of Kauai, and 46 future gatherings, still to be discovered). I too made an invitation, and oh my God people responded. Again, a miracle. I don’t know most of these Seattle neighbors, but we’re now connected. There’s a bag of Garrett’s popcorn in my carry-on bag. Caramel and cheese mix, a perfunctory but well-meaning contribution to a shared feast.

This is how it always goes. The political scientist and Macarthur grantee Hahrie Han frequently talks about how belonging precedes belief. She’s right, but before belonging comes a very normal person who becomes just a bit brave and asks, “I would like you to know about this thing that I am doing, because that seems way better than having to do it alone.”

That’s one of the many things that the Columbia City neighbors do these days, by the way. On their community forum, there’s a thread where they say “I’m going to a movie tonight, would anybody like to come with me?” And people do! A single invitation has birthed hundreds more.

Because of the nature of my work (over-exclamatory community cheerleader), every week I receive multiple messages to the same effect. “I tried it, and it worked,” or “some other people tried it, and look at what they created.” The “it” in question is the same question, repeated earnestly. “Would you join me?” Last week the messages were about how an offer for work-from-homers to share porch coffee went much better than expected, and about how far more people in St. Louis than you might expect journaled in the park this past November. Not a particularly fun time to be outside in a park in St. Louis, mind you. And yet, 80 people showed up. Per organizer Julie Zhang, “it was freezing, it was borderline dangerous, but it was electric.”

But that’s the rub, isn’t it? What if the people don’t show up? Or what if they show up, but everybody’s awkward and stares at their shoes? Or they show up, and it’s wonderful, but months from now they’re still expecting you to manage the invites and do the dishes and lead the conversation and you start resenting those ungrateful community freeloaders in your midst?

I suppose it is my job, as an over-exclamatory community cheerleader, to assure you that these concerns are primarily in your head. And the science does back that argument up. Unless you are literally J.D. Vance, it is highly likely that people think you’re pretty cool and well worth their time. They will come to your thing. They will step up if you ask them.

Dr. Gillian Sandstrom documents a wide range of research to this effect in her recent book, Once Upon a Stranger: The Science of How “Small” Talk Can Add Up To a Big Life. To cite just one example, Sandstrom and her colleagues tracked hundreds of college students as they initiated conversations with strangers over the course of a week (“will you talk to me right now?” being, of course, the simplest but most daunting invitation of all). When the experiment began, only 40 percent of participants assumed they’d actually be able to initiate an enjoyable conversation. But when the final results were analyzed, out of 1336 attempted conversations, 87% were successful.

Social psychologists have a name for this, the assumption that our entreaties to each other will be rejected, on account of our myriad quirks and failings. It’s called the “liking gap,” but it might as well be called, “having a human brain.” We pump up the volume on self-criticism, over-index lessons from when we’ve been legitimately rejected, and dial down all counter-evidence. I often joke about how I’m still afraid that people won’t show up to my birthday party, forgetting that, in practice, my classmates at Thunder Hill Elementary did join me at the bowling alley when I turned 10. I didn’t ever have to bowl alone, but tell that to my overly risk-averse brain.

I could just leave the pep talk there and call it a day, but I’d be lying by omission. People are starved for community. They are eager for an alternative to generalized despair and AI chatbots. They aren’t actually judging you. Sure, but still: I flake on all sorts of events, and I’m an over-exclamatory community cheerleader. Last week, a very kind person who I know from a previous professional life was hosting a gyro dinner at her house. A gyro dinner! Can you imagine a better excuse to get together? I didn’t go. And I had a good excuse (too many kids’ events, an inability to make all the pieces fit) but the end result was the same—one empty chair, potential evidence, if the host chose to take it that way, that the invitation wasn’t worth it.

I could keep going. I haven’t been to Wednesday game night at Falcon Bowl in weeks, even though I love that crew and wouldn’t mind a round of Wingspan and a couple Hamms tall boys. I signed up for texts from Milwaukee’s chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America earnestly, but you wouldn’t know it from my commitment to leaving them unread. I’m still working my way through 100 emails from kind people—invitations of one variety or another. They’re in my inbox because I intend to respond to them, but that’s not how it likely feels to my would-be epistolary partners.

We may not out be out here deliberately rejecting each other, but you know the whole deal about objects in motion. Every new invitation is a pebble-sized shot across the bow of the mighty ship inertia, and that behemoth doesn’t turn easily. The “liking gap,” goes both ways. Your earnest invitation likely isn’t being ignored because people find you onerous, but because they’re afraid that you and your fellow gatherers will reject them.

I still believe that you should invite your neighbors over for donuts. You should text that acquaintance with whom you once exchanged half-heard “oh, we should totally hang out,” promises. You should put up flyers around town that you’re going to be doing some random weirdo thing you love at a coffee shop and that other fans of that weirdo thing should join you.

You should make all these invitations, but you should know that they may very well be ignored. People may ghost you. Or they’ll RSVP yes and then have something come up. You may end up sitting at that coffee shop alone. It will likely feel slightly devastating, though in my experience less so than I anticipated. “Maybe next time,” I’ve muttered to at least a few circles of empty seats.

What’s the worst that can happen, if you’re rejected? A single quiet afternoon. Nothing more, nothing less. An entire city will not be texting about you, about how much you suck and how they were very wise to avoid your table for losers.

If you build it, and they don’t come, it is likely because they’re thinking about themselves, about how harried they are or about how, if they were to show up, you wouldn’t like them very much. They probably feel guilty. They’re likely worried that, by ignoring your first invitation, they won’t be invited in the future. Again, there are studies, and those studies look kindly on you and you and your bravery in offering that sad loser table a second time, then a third, until it becomes a filled table filled with people who are actually pretty cool.

I sincerely hope I get invited to the next gyro night. I’m so grateful I haven’t been kicked off the game night text chain. And I really will show up with the socialists again, one of these days. And then, in each of those cases, somebody else’s table will be less empty. There will be the invitation, and then the response. And then who knows what. Belonging? Belief? Perhaps, but at least the inviter will get to tell their friends, “it actually worked! People came! More than last time!”

I can’t guarantee that we’ll never let you down. We’re flighty and self-centered. We’re objects in motion, but often in unhelpful directions. But we’re worth a shot. Because when we do show up, it really is electric.

End notes:

1. Seattle, I’m here! Tonight! And yes, I’m kicking off this year invitation spree with a potluck with the Columbia City Neighbors Club. They’d love to have you, even if you don’t live close by. Truly. 6:00 PM at Southside Commons (3518 S. Edmunds).

2. Have you ever wondered how to get a 50-compartment dark walnut box embedded in a 20x36x12 cardboard box across the country to start a year-long relay project? I now know! [Instagram link/Substack link].

3. The next three dates in the relay are set—Portland, San Francisco, Kauai. You’ll be hearing about them in future weeks, but you can also learn more about them right here, right now.

4. In the spirit of invitations, I’m also offering hang out hours during the day today. I’m posted up at Victrola Coffee on 15^th in Capitol Hill and I made a sign-up sheet for folks who want to say hey. And guess what? It worked! I wrote about this last week, and people filled every spot. Cool people, I bet. But then, one of them had to cancel, which means that if you still want to take me up on that invite, it’s worth a shot. If not, I’ll enjoy the free hour.

5. In case I just seem like I’m just a cool, breezy invite-maker with no care in the world, let me be clear. Every time I put an invitation out, I’m TERRIFIED that this will be the time the bottom falls out and I’ll be left hanging. Currently, that unhelpful inner monologue is being directed towards the next round of relay states (Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada, Utah, Colorado and Idaho), and whether we’ll get enough cool applications in those states (especially UT, NM and NV, which have been quieter so far). May 1^st is the deadline! Applying is not hard! Perhaps you want to toss your name in, if for no other reason than to tell my intrusive thoughts that they are silly (or more likely, because being a part of the relay is very cool and low impact we even provide a hosting stipend).

6. I know I always include this request, but I always mean it. t’s a gift to do this work, and boy would it be nice if there was a sustainable way to do so without asking you all, “hey, would you consider supporting?” But, also: I’m so grateful that every time I do ask a few of you say “yes, Garrett, I can help” and that generally keeps this ship floating as past supporters have to take a break. As always, thanks for considering.I try to keep prices cheap, and I give really good perks, because I appreciate you all so much.