This week’s post is in response to a friend’s suggestion that I write about how to maintain friendships and community while moving around for work. I wish I had a foolproof, works-every-time answer. But the truth is, once we’re removed from some unifying thing— like high school or college or grad school— it can be really hard to make friends as an adult.
I grew up in a really small town in Georgia, and my friends and I rolled deep. I recall several summers and after-school days when a bunch of us piled up at Taelor or Maggie’s house to have a movie marathon or hang by the pool. After high school, I moved to Atlanta to attend college at Emory, hungry to experience a bigger world. Several of my friends lived in Atlanta already or were only about an hour’s drive away. Even so, Emory had people from all over the place, and I adjusted to college life quickly. Again, my friends and I rolled deep: I had the whole of Turman 5th floor, fellow Mellon-Mays aspiring academics, friends I made through residence life, and other pals of mine.
My most recent experience of living near my friends was when I lived in Hyde Park for graduate school. I had university friends across the neighborhood and even in my apartment complex. It made getting through grad school and the pandemic a lot easier. In spite of over-policing and the looming university presence, Hyde Park is a proper neighborhood, with people from all walks of life living in and around its tree-lined streets. There were parks to relax in, bars, and restaurants. It’s a beautiful and lively space. It’s certainly the case that where you live shapes the kind of relationships you’re able to have. If you live somewhere that is un-walkable, you’re not likely to run into a friend walking their dog or picking up some things at the grocery store. The serendipitous appearance of a classmate or a date (or a classmate while you were on a date, lol) gave Hyde Park that magical, sit-com energy.
So in Hyde Park, I had people, people everywhere. I had people to take long walks with, to eat with, to drink with, to celebrate wins, and to commiserate failures. I had friends to run with every day and friends that brought me Gatorade when the second COVID vaccine kicked my ass.1 Many of my people were a 15-minute walk away or less, or were coming to Hyde Park regularly for the university. It felt like the way things are supposed to feel: communal and simple. I think this is where I really learned what it means to be a friend: deep care, laughter, and reciprocity in the face of life’s challenges.
Since my Hyde Park days, I moved to California. While SoCal is just as beautiful and dreamy, matters in the friend department haven’t been as simple. I don’t quite roll as deep as I used to. I moved to Long Beach where I didn’t know a soul, save my partner. I have old friends in LA and new colleagues in Irvine and they have been welcoming and inviting and gracious. And don’t get me wrong, our choice of Long Beach was purposeful. I think we found a gem of a city that offers diverse walks of life, is comparatively walkable, bike-able, and affordable.
But even in light of the joys of Long Beach, there’s nothing like walking out of your house and meeting a friend with five minutes of notice. Every meet-up takes at least 30 minutes of travel time in California. It’s an adjustment that I suppose just comes with this new phase of life.
So why have I done it? Why leave the comfort of my hometown, of my home state, hell— the comfort of Hyde Park?
The simplest answer is in pursuit of the work I want to do. To become an academic usually demands a willingness to relocate. The odds of getting a job are low and the odds of getting a job where your friends and family are are even lower. I’ve been lucky, I’ll admit. I have purposefully chosen further flung graduate schools and jobs when I had options closer to my friends and family. I’ve made these choices for a number of professional and personal reasons, but beyond those, it’s been vitally important to me to live in new places and meet new people. It has made me stronger and braver to rely on my tenacity and sociality to make new friends and discover new connections. I believe that, if you’re able, inviting new places and experiences into one’s life can shape your character and expand your worldview in ways that invite creativity and build strength of purpose. I have been indelibly shaped by the landscapes Atlanta, Chicago, and Southern California and their interludes in my life.2 I will always hold deep connections in and to each of these places.
So reflecting upon each of these interludes, I can say that making new friends requires a real level of vulnerability. It is not for the faint of heart or for folks who say “no” a lot. You have to be down to join and up for anything. You have to be willing to try things, to try to vibe with folks you might not share a lot in common with on the surface. But it’s worth it because you never know what kind of goodness and what kinds of perspectives a new friend might bring to your life.
I’m not always great at the vulnerability part: I think I’m open-hearted but I’m also really comfortable being at home a lot. Sometimes one has to push through those tendencies towards comfort to try on new things and new people.
Community might be a bit more difficult than friendship. I’m still figuring that one out. How do we signal to a place that we are a part of the landscape, that we are invested in its well-being and future? I think that requires another level of showing up— perhaps organizing, advocacy, being present on one’s block or street, available to listen to and support neighbors. Community as a concept doesn’t suggest that we have to know someone very well to be available if they need us. I think community is about being present for containers of people focused towards a common purpose and perhaps creating those containers oneself. So community is about going to the neighborhood meeting and maybe offering to host it sometime. Community is about being a “regular” at a bar or restaurant, seeing your neighbors at a park you frequent, and checking in on how they’ve been doing. Community is different than friendship, but it also takes time, presence, and commitment.
So this, I believe, is the why and how of moving and making new friends. I’ll admit— at the ripe old age of 29, after 3 big moves to new places— I think there will be a future, final move of mine that will require the presence of old friends, an already in-place infrastructure made up of people with whom I’m rooted and have long histories. Moving to a brand new place is not for the faint of heart. While I’ve been driven for so long by the desire for new experiences and new things, the aim to grow my circle and take on new challenges….I hope to find a moment in my life where I will be committed to rooting and belonging in a place and with people I love and know already. So while my present and forseeable future tends towards creation, I think my long-term hope is to nurture the friendships and communities I’ll have built.
That’s all for this week! I do want to take a moment of gratitude for the Chicago organizers who shifted the terrain in the city and got Brandon Johnson elected as mayor. Electoral politics always involves some level of compromise but it’s so important that we have the opportunity to set the terms.
Thanks for reading.
J
Shoutout Bianca! The best friend and neighbor <3
I’ve also been very shaped by NYC and Baltimore, although interludes in places are certainly different than long stretches of living.
Great article, thoroughly enjoyed reading this
Come back to ATL ;) great dive into friendship as you age and move. Miss you!