Community Care: The Care Mainstream Society Doesn’t Value

Have you ever heard of community-care?

This topic is super important to me, and I’ve been talking about it in on social media the past month.

Humans aren’t meant to live life alone. Our communities, whether nearby or spread across the world, are vital to our wellbeing. Whether we’re building, caring, grieving or celebrating; community is key.

We get so much from the care of our community, but it isn’t a one way relationship. We also give support to those in our community, and this matters. It’s essential that we’re putting care back in too; so our community can take care of each other.

Community Care is A Lot Like Self-Care

“If self-care is about what you do for yourself, then community care is what you put into and what you are able to receive from, the community you have built around yourself…”

Donna Oriowo, PhD, LICSW

By now you must know I’m all about self-care and this is intrinsically tied to my passion for community care. Propaganda from the $$$ self-help/wellness industry, has caused some folks to perceive self-care as selfish and materialist; some have even gone so far as to call for self-care to be dismantled. They see community care as morally superior.

Not me.

We need both. Self-care doesn’t detract from community care, just like working to dismantle transphobia, doesn’t undermine efforts to eradicate racism! They’re bound together. In a way, self-care IS community care.

Practicing self-care does not negate community care. In fact, I think self-care can help build capacity for community care. As Mama Ru says, “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else?!” I think this sentiment can apply to acts of care too. Nurturing and supporting yourself can build empathy and teach you how to nurture and support others. There is room for ALL the care.

Meaningful Self-Care Matters

When I say self-care, I don’t mean doing something that costs money or buying something material. I mean, those things are nice, don’t get me wrong! But I mostly mean, intentionally checking in with my body and brain to see how I’m doing, then attending to anything that arises. That might just mean sitting with the feeling of pain or making space for a difficult emotion. How can I nourish others if I am running on empty? I’ve learned the hard way, I simply can’t.

I’ve seen SO many people burnout because they are not prioritizing their well-being, not listening to their needs. I’ve been in activist circles where people are pressured to go beyond their limits to prove themselves to be a martyr for “the cause.”

But at what cost? My dream is of sustainable movements for social change with room enough for people of all abilities.

For me, self-care is just one piece of the puzzle; one tool in the toolbox.

Focusing everything on self-care is a bit like telling people “Look after yourself, because you’re on your own.” When we add community-care in it become more like “Look after yourself, but we’ve got you, just like you were there for us when we needed you.” Yes, you’re caring for yourself, but now alone. Not in isolation. There’s a safety net, if you like. There’s more than one tool in our toolbox.

Building yourself up through meaningful self-care helps you build up the community. Building up the community supports those who need more than self-care right now and need to draw on that wider support system. Ideally, we all pay in when we can and receive when we need and because it’s based on strong ties and commitment we don’t measure deposits and withdrawals like bankers. Life doesn’t work like that.

Both/And: Community Care and Self-Care Go Hand in Hand

Together community-care and self-care are part of our toolbox for survival, or better, for thriving and living meaningful lives in our world.

I think of community care like an antidote to the often brutal, individualistic society capitalism has created & exploited; it’s the opposite of isolation & overwhelm.

Community care is a supportive action that says, “You are not alone. How can I help ease your suffering?” It acknowledges that we are all in this together. It says, “When you hurt; I hurt.”

For me, community care is interdependence in action. It lifts life’s burdens & injustices off of an individual’s shoulders, and places it into the hands of a more resourced group. Community care is practical. It says, “Let’s do this <insert really hard thing> together.”

Community care is inherently relational; it meets individual & systemic hardships with collective efforts.

Community care feels like a hug from your chosen family; like being held safely in the arms of your besties. Community care feels soft & gentle; compassionate & kind.

Do I give back?

If you’ve never heard of community care, you may be wondering in panic whether you give back. Chances are you do, you just never thought of it this way. Thinking about community care helps us approach it with intentionality and use our resources (time, energy, financial) in the most effective way for our community.

Can you see examples of community care in your life? Think about when you have received community care, and when you might have offered it.

Maybe you weren’t familiar with the term community care, but almost everyone has experienced it. It’s the meal train that was organized after you got surgery; or a loved one passed away. It’s the care package sent by far away friends during your latest round of chemo. It’s sharing warm, home cooked meals.

Community care is anything but glamorous.

It’s waking up at 3am to help your friend take their pain meds.

It’s helping your neurodivergent friend organize their space.

It’s scrubbing your friend’s tub, so they can soak their aching body.

It’s driving to doctor’s appointments.

It’s making a phone call.

It’s buying groceries and washing dishes.

It’s holding space for grief and sadness.

It’s witnessing the suffering of another human being.

It is not glamorous but it is powerful and it truly matters.

If you have benefitted from community care, feel free to share and celebrate how it has supported you.

Community care and me

I’ve benefitted so much from the care of people around me; family, chosen family, friends, Filipinx nad queer/trans communities. I try to ensure that I’m giving back too.

For me, acts of service is one of my love languages, so that’s how my community care often materializes: creating LGBTQ+ safe spaces; teaching and sharing knowledge.

I’ve been doing community organizing work since I was 19. As a queer, trans, Filipinx kid growing up in a small town, I didn’t have safe spaces or community, so I made it my life’s mission to create and build community wherever I go. In college I was coordinator for ‘Brown Pride,’ a social/support group for QTBIPOC students while working as a Peer Support person in a retention program for at-risk college students.

Before I became disabled and my capacities changed, I’d perform physical acts of service, but recently, it’s more emotional/moral support. I really feel like COVID-19 further diminished my capacity to offer community care, and now with all the trans-panic and hate it’s not looking up. Boo!

That’s hard because things like trans-panic often hit the whole community at the same time, and put huge numbers in need of support. Many people are in more than one community, so at times like this we sometimes have to draw on support from another community; our local community, a religious/social/cultural community, if we have one.

Community care is often especially important for marginalized groups, like people of colour and queer people, whose life experiences may not be shared by the wider community at large. These can help individuals find self-acceptance, learn about their heritage and practice their cultures as part of a minority in an often hostile world.

Our individualistic society really undervalues community, so we need to be intentional about building our communities up, and drawing people in. That’s the only way to ensure that they survive and thrive in the future. We have to value them and care for them precisely because society does not.

I want this article to challenge you to think about care; self-care, community care you have benefitted from, and community care you have participated in. Are these practices meeting your needs and the needs of the community? Which of your, and your communities needs are going unmet? Can you use your self and community care intentionally to more effectively meet those needs?

Broke Neck Mountain

Thirteen years ago, I almost died… & it changed the course of my life forever.

[CW: accident/physical trauma]

Image ID: Black & white CT scan of Samonte’s head and six cervical vertebrae. The C1 vertebra is broken.

I was heading down to rehearse for a queer, independent film I was acting in at the time. I didn’t have a car, so I was catching a bus to the train station. It was cold & rainy out, so I put on my big blue coat & headed out on foot.

As I approached the busy intersection, I could see the bus down the road. I looked both ways & stepped into the street to cross the road. Instantly, the visual I had on the bus was gone. I could not make sense of what I was seeing… it was a jumbled up mess. Then I realized- I’m being hit by a car. Then silence; then, darkness.

The next thing I remember is opening my eyes & seeing the sideways view of traffic lights in the intersection cycling from green, to yellow, to red. I was laying on my side, in a puddle, in the middle of the road. More specifically, the left hand turning lane in a puddle in the middle of a six lane intercity highway.

“I’ve been hit by a car,” I thought. Then the pain came; deep, sharp pain on the right side of my neck & shoulder. “My neck is broken.” The pain was so severe & so acutely located, I knew immediately it was broken. I knew I shouldn’t move because my spinal cord could become severed; or maybe it already was? I tried to wiggle my toes- I think they moved? I’m not sure.

As the rain came down, I stared at the traffic light cycling through it’s colors at a steady rate.

Green. Yellow. Red.

Then I had a bone chilling thought. “It’s dark & rainy. I’m laying in the middle of Knight Street, the direct route for semi-trucks to pick up goods at the Port of Vancouver, BC. … I might be about to get run over again.” I cringed at the thought.

Green. Yellow. Red.

I knew the only thing I could do was wait for help. I tried to take a deep breath but I couldn’t. I didn’t know it at the time, by sternum had broken & both of my lungs had collapsed.

Green Yellow. Red.

Eventually, although I couldn’t move, I sensed that there were people around me; they were trying to figure out if I was still alive. One leaned down close & asked me a question I can’t remember. I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move my mouth or my tongue to make sounds. I wanted to say, “My neck is broken, don’t move me!” I knew if they tried to administer CPR, my spinal cord might get severed and there was nothing I could do.

Green. Yellow. Red.

The only thing I could do was to try to breathe the best that I could & wait for the paramedics to come & help me.

Green. Yellow. Red.

As I laid in a puddle, in the pouring rain, I felt this sense of calm wash over me. Surrendering to the the present moment; to what is. Surrendering to reality of severe trauma and the unknown. Everything I had ever learned in my life about healing, compassion and mindfulness kicked in and I just kept talking my to myself in my head. “All you can do is wait.”

Green. Yellow. Red.

After what seemed like eternity, the paramedics finally arrived. They asked me where I was injured, and after several attempts, I was able to squeak out a very strained, “My neck.” After that, things are a bit of a blur. I remember them cutting off all my clothes & their shock when I did not have the body parts they were expecting. But I was starting to loose focus, as the most severe pain I have every experienced in my life was beginning to creep in; & it would get much worse before it got any better.

It’s been a LONGGG road to recovery. Many ups & downs. But the experience of acute physical trauma& living with the chronic pain & disabilities that remain, has forced me get really clear about my priorities; about what I really want in life. I know that when something is extremely challenging for me but I refuse to give up; it means I really want it.

That’s how it’s been with goldsmithing. Although I’ve come quite a long way since I started my training back in 2015, it’s still a real challenge for my body somedays. But the thing is, when my pain is bad, most things are a challenge, so why not spend that time doing something I love? It feeds my heart in such a deep and nourishing way, that I keep striving; slow & steady. Little by little, I am learning the ancient ways of my ancestors. I feel them smiling. And the thing is, it’s a path I’m not sure I would have found if I had not almost died 13 years ago.

Seattle NOW/CBS Interview

This video recounts my healing journey from a serious spinal injury in 2010, to the artist I am today; from breaking my neck & being bed ridden, to becoming a Filipinx goldsmith. Living through such a traumatic accident & the pain that followed, taught me how to surrender to the present moment, how to receive when I could give nothing in return & the importance cultivating of joy.

I turned to creativity as a way to cultivate joy & reclaim some of my life from the severe, unrelenting chronic pain I experience everyday. Doing things that brought me joy was a way to have pain take up less space in my life. This, in turn, led me to retraining as a goldsmith & opening my own business making custom jewelry, Samonte Cruz Studios.

My art is now my work and my life, although it still shares that space with the chronic pain I still experience. The art I create through Samonte Cruz Studios feeds my spirit by giving me opportunities to reconnect to my culture, through the ancient traditions my ancestors mastered; goldsmithing & metalwork.

Thanks to Producer Amy Mahardy and the Creative Services team at CW11 in Seattle for helping to tell my story.

How Art Helped Me Heal

To read the full article click here.

“There are moments in our lives where an event happens, and afterward nothing is the same. People can almost categorize their lives into snapshots of “before” and “after.” Often these are happy events, like the birth of a child, but they can also be painful, like a traumatic accident. In my case it was the latter. On February 26, 2010, I was hit by an SUV as a pedestrian in Vancouver. That moment completely changed the trajectory of my life.”

Editorial by Samonte Cruz, published in ARTiculate magazine Spring/Summer issue 2018. To view the full Spring/Summer 2018 issue of ARTiculate Magazine click here.