The Mathematics of Belonging

Belonging is a primal need and lives at the core of what it means to be human. Yet the concept itself can feel vague and hard to pin down. What does it mean to belong? To create spaces of belonging? 

To belong is to feel connected to something bigger than myself, an extension of my identity or sense of self to include another being, a place, a group of people, or even a lineage or belief system or institution. At the same time, real belonging includes a reciprocity that creates room for me as an individual, where I am valued not only for my similarities with others but also for the unique perspectives and strengths that I bring.

True belonging, then, allows for my unique and authentic self to be integrated and connected to the unique and authentic selves of others. There is room for my quirks and qualities, my edges, the wholeness of who I am: and for yours. While there is commonality that connects us, we are allowed space for differentiation.

Belonging equals authenticity plus connection.

To belong is to know that I have a valued place in the world. It allows me to see how my particular edges and angles fit into and contribute to the whole. To belong is to be held and free, to be able to wander to the edges of my inclinations and to know that I have a safe place where I am seen, known, and accepted (daresay loved) to return to.

Without space for authenticity the best that we can hope for is to fit in. Without real connection, we’re just an assemblage of mismatched parts longing for the whole. 

What is authenticity? In essence, authenticity means belonging to oneself and possessing the ability to express myself and therefore to be myself. It is having a sense of who I am as an individual: my identity, my needs, my interests and preferences, my strengths and weaknesses. It is knowing what makes my soul light up and feeling unashamed to trust and follow that sensation, wherever it may lead. It’s the ability to speak up for what I need and to let others know what I think, to offer my opinions and ideas. 

Without connection, however, authenticity can easily devolve into fragmented individualism. From a nervous system perspective, if I perceive myself as a separate and isolated self, disconnected from those around me, there is a part of me that remains alert and can’t fully relax. This becomes a constant, underlying source of stress that keeps my anxiety high and limits my ability to access the parts of my brain responsible for creativity, logical thinking, and reflection. In short, it makes it harder to access my highest self.

Without genuine connection with others, I am more likely to operate from a place of defensiveness and self-protection, and therefore to engage in social behaviors that sabotage the purported intention of the groups I am a part of. My relationships with others become an expression of vigilant self-interest and are reduced to transactions at best (and violence and aggression at worst).

When a group of humans gathers together as fragmented individuals without a unifying sense of connection (to each other, to a shared purpose, to a larger vision, etc.) it’s a formula for a toxic culture. The pursuit of individual agendas, unrestrained criticism or judgment, competitive undercutting, the inability to ask for help or be vulnerable in any way: these are a few of the symptoms of a culture marked by individualism, the valuing of authenticity without (or over) connection.

At the same time, the pursuit of connection without a valuing of authenticity creates its own brand of toxicity: a willingness to sacrifice my needs in order to be loved, to change myself to please others, or to go along with what I believe other people think or want in an attempt to minimize social tension and to fit in with others.

If there isn’t room for my differentiated self, if I am asked (explicitly or implicitly) to shave off parts of myself, to cut myself down to a smaller size, to keep my opinions and perspectives to myself, this is no longer belonging. Fitting in, perhaps, but not belonging. In these contexts, conformity becomes the rule of law and any challenge to the dominant norm is quickly shut down. 

This is where the tides of collectivism roll in: groupthink, the silent majority, the emperor has no clothes and we’re all side-eyeing each other wondering if anyone else is going to say anything (but it’s sure as hell not going to be me). 

Humans have a natural and innate tendency to seek social connection: it is part of our wiring and it’s what makes us the super-organism that has basically taken over the planet (for better or for worse). This urge is SO strong that many of us will willingly minimize our needs or perspectives, diminish or tone down or make ourselves quiet and palatable so as not to attract negative attention. Shame is a weapon wielded to keep us in line, and we too often sacrifice our authenticity to meet the strong need to fit in. 

Again: belonging equals authenticity plus connection.

Our dominant culture often forges a binary between authenticity and connection that reduces us to the extremes of hyper-individualism and conformity. These polarities have a tendency to exacerbate and reinforce each other and to diminish the nuanced interplay of real belonging.

As an example: consider the stereotypical high school that’s portrayed in so many teen movies. At the center are the ones who align with cultural norms—thin, white, athletic, upper-middle class, the jocks and the cheerleaders. What it means to be “popular” is to fit in to these largely interchangeable boxes.  At the margins are the “freaks and geeks,” those who don’t fit in with the spoken or unspoken norms, either because they are unwilling or unable. 

While these movies are often oversimplified caricatures of real life, they reflect a real catch-22 that many of us feel and experience. Option 1: be a carbon-copy of what’s considered “normal”, do what others expect, and bite your tongue. Option 2: be your whole, big, weird-ass self, but know that it means you’ll be relegated to outsider status.

In some ways, our culture glorifies these two extremes simultaneously. This puts us in an impossible double-bind: we twist ourselves into knots trying to be same enough to fit in but unique enough to, well, also fit in. It’s pretty ridiculous, when you think about it. And exhausting, as double binds always are.

I grew up in a small community and experienced the beauty of belonging until I started exploring the edges of my identity and expressing my individuality. The subtle and not-so-subtle cues that added up to a very clear message: you belong here, until you are too different from us. I had a choice to either get smaller and more “normal,” to abide by the rules of a game that I had no interest in playing, or to leave.

So I left. And while the city that I now live in creates all kinds of space for authenticity, for weirdos and queer kids like myself, I often long for the simple connection that I felt in my hometown as a child.

We all have our own unique stories that embody this tension between the desire to be connected to others alongside the need to express our unique selves. Times when we have swallowed our dissenting truth to keep the peace. Times when we’ve chosen ourselves and walked away from situations that no longer served us. Moments when we’ve dampened our light or pushed down our real feelings or done what we are expected to do by the people around us. Moments when we’ve spoken up or pushed back, consequences be damned (and faced the subsequent consequences).

So, then: if true belonging is what we are interested in, how do we engage in this dance of authenticity and connection?

When we as humans feel connected to one another, when we have a shared sense of purpose and know that we can show up as ourselves and be accepted and valued for who we are, it shifts our internal landscape from one of individual self-interest and seeing others as competitors or threats to being part of a collective whole.

Connection, when it makes room for authenticity, moves us beyond a saccharine-sweet, always-smiling, touchy-feely environment where everyone is nice to each other all the time. It recognizes that these behaviors are often performative social norms that are symptoms of disconnection beneath the surface. Real belonging means we feel safe enough to push back or disagree with others rather than masking dissent or avoiding conflict. 

During the times when personalities clash, connection asks us to put on our big-person pants and wade into the relational muck to find a place where we can co-exist. When we trust that our value isn’t dependent on acting in narrow or scripted ways and that we can move through relational tension and repair the inevitable ruptures that may arise, it creates a kind of interpersonal freedom that lends itself to more creativity, exploration, and growth.

When authenticity is held by connection, it means I don’t get to do or say whatever I want, whenever I want. The very presence and nature of connection with others means that there are times where I need to moderate my impulses or temper my language. In the colloquial (and oh so original) language of teenagers: “I just tell it like it is,” while arguably an expression of authenticity, kind of just makes me an asshole. 

To this point, one might even argue that authenticity without connection isn’t real authenticity. It is only when we feel relational safety, liberated from distrust and self-protection, that we are free to express our most authentic selves. There’s a bit of chicken-egg nuance here: which comes first? These elements of belonging may be so intricately entangled that to distinguish between them is an academic exercise.

As a leader, the more that I can consciously integrate cues of genuine connection into the culture of my team, classroom, or organization, the more likely people will be able to put down their social armor and show up to the work, whatever that may be. This includes prioritizing time to just be together, to get to know each other on a human level, to have discussions about what respect looks like and how we want to show up with each other. 

It also asks us to create a culture where it’s safe to speak up, to disagree with each other (and with those in roles of authority), and to offer different perspectives and half-formed ideas. It honors the diverse and authentic personalities, cultures, identities, strengths, and perspectives of individuals while creating space to explore commonalities and build genuine camaraderie.  

In spaces where belonging is the goal, there must be a real effort to overcome the tendencies to stay quiet or bite our tongues in an attempt to keep the peace when we disagree with the group or have a different (and potentially controversial) perspective to bring. There is a conscious intention to choose discomfort, to seek out diverse perspectives, and to hold connection at the center. Said another way, we don’t set the highest value on people “getting along” but on building our collective capacity (and our individual bandwidth) to hold the discomfort of difference with respect and genuine care.

If we are in pursuit of true belonging, we welcome the challenge of meeting the ever-shifting balance between the needs of the individual and the needs of the group, even if these needs are hard to pin down (and they always are!). 

We do not shy from disagreement because we recognize that this is part of being human together, and we do the work to engage in productive conflict with curiosity and mutual respect. 

We prioritize laughter, play, and vulnerability as avenues for genuine connection, and recognize the role of trust in our ability to engage productively in difficult conversations.

We draw boundaries around behaviors that are hurtful or destructive while recognizing the pain of unmet needs or lack of skills that motivate such behaviors: accountability plus compassion.

We create predictable and frequent opportunities for people to express their appreciation for each other, to acknowledge each others’ efforts, to name each others’ unique strengths, and to celebrate our individual and collective wins.

We learn to listen deeply to those around us and we have the courage to speak, because we trust (and have repeated experiences that reinforce this trust) that we won’t be judged or ostracized for doing so. 

In these ways, we can see authenticity and connection as the warp and weft that creates the fabric of belonging. The threads run perpendicular to each other, but are not in opposition: rather, it is the interweaving of them both that creates resilience and integrity.

Creating these kinds of spaces—in our workplaces, our homes, and our communities—is no small feat, especially in the times that we live in. It is a worthy aspiration and a necessary endeavor, if we are to find our way to a more humane way of being together.

There is no easy roadmap to belonging, but the formula is clear.

If you’re interested in doing the hard and rewarding work of creating spaces of belonging, I offer professional development trainings, team development programs, and consulting support that holds the interplay of authenticity and connection at the center. Reach out to connect and schedule a call!