*read with a chicano slang

Whiteness, individualism, and the lie of the American Dream taught y’all to mistake isolation for strength.

People love to say they want community.
They miss connection.
They want to feel seen.
They talk about “finding their people” like it’s something out there waiting for them.

But the minute the group chat opens, the door unlocks, or the invite drops—
crickets. Ghost mode. Excuses.

Because showing up is easy until it’s no longer about you.

Orale, Let’s Just Call It

The space wasn’t soft enough.
The convo didn’t center your identity.
The energy didn’t bow to your vibe.

So instead of leaning in, you back out.
And say shit like:

“I didn’t feel seen.”
“It wasn’t welcoming.”
“There’s no real community anymore.”

Be real.
What you meant was:
“I wasn’t the center.”

Blame the Dream. EL Gringo.

This whole “self-made, independent, don’t-need-nobody” thing?
It’s not just capitalism.
It’s whiteness—the belief that success means standing alone on top,
and that needing people makes you small.

The American Dream wasn’t built for everybody.
It was built for white folks to escape community and call it freedom.

So now community feels like a choice to some of y’all.
A cute brunch thing. A vibe. A “tribe” that doesn’t require too much truth.

But for Black, Brown, and Indigenous people,
community has never been optional.
It’s been survival.
It’s been tradition.
It’s been the only reason we’re still here.

While whiteness preaches independence,
we practice interdependence.
Not ‘cause it’s trending.
Because we had to.

Because the systems built to serve you were built to crush us.
Because showing up means being with, not above.
Because community means surrendering the spotlight.

What You Really Want Is un Espejo

Let’s not confuse it.

You don’t want community.
You want a mirror.

A space that reflects you back.
No tension. No pushback. No growth.
Just good lighting and agreement.

So when the room doesn’t feel catered to you—
when it’s multiracial, multilingual, multi-truth—you bounce.
But you’ll dress it up:

“I didn’t feel safe.”
“They weren’t inclusive.”
“It just wasn’t for me.”

Translation:
“It wasn’t about me.”

Real Community Isn’t Chulo

It’s not a vibe.
It’s not built for your ego.
And it definitely isn’t going to worship your comfort.

It’s complicated.
It’s loud.
It’s full of people who won’t make you the center.

It asks you to shut up sometimes.
To stay when you want to run.
To be accountable, not just visible.

It’s about shared power.
It’s about listening more than you talk.
It’s about unlearning the lies that told you connection should always feel good.

Here’s La Neta

Stop saying community is missing.
Start saying you were never taught how to be part of one that didn’t serve you first.

That’s more honest.
That’s what it is.

Because community isn’t gone.
It’s alive.
You just didn’t want to sit in a circle you couldn’t control.

And until that shifts,
people will keep confusing being centered with being connected—
and call their loneliness liberation.

-Happy Fourth of July Carnal