I’m not a street protestor. I’m not built for public confrontation, and I’m not the kind of person who can go ten rounds in the comment section and come out intact. That kind of constant friction drains me. I don’t feel wired for it, and I don’t want to pretend that I am.
But I also don’t want to confuse “I’m not doing that” with “I’m doing nothing.”
Because the truth is, I’ve spent most of my life practicing something else on purpose: belonging. I’ve practiced making people feel less alone. I’ve practiced creating spaces where people can arrive as they are, without having to perform professionalism or productivity or composure first.
So I’m choosing to treat my days at Cohere like front line work, even if it’s quieter, slower, and considerably less athletic. I show up to hold space. I look people in the eye and let them arrive in whatever state they’re in. I sit with nervous systems that are frayed and overwhelmed, even as the world expects everyone to log onto Zoom and act normal, as if nothing is happening.
Some days that work looks small. It’s making coffee. It’s noticing when someone hasn’t spoken all morning. It’s asking a simple, genuine question and then staying long enough to hear the answer. It’s letting people exhale instead of perform.
This week, we’re doing one small thing that reflects that belief. We’re writing cards to other coworking spaces like ours in Minneapolis, just to say: we see you. Not as a campaign. Not as a performance. Just as a quiet thread of connection between people who keep opening doors, holding rooms, and caring for others in small, steady, predictable ways.
It feels important to remind each other that none of us are doing this work alone. That even when our days feel repetitive, exhausting, or invisible, they matter. That showing up, again and again, is a form of resistance in a world that constantly pushes us toward isolation.
No matter whether you’re out on the streets, deep in the comments, at City Council, or simply trying to make it through your workday with your nervous system intact, you belong here.
I’ve got the coffee on.
And the tissues ready.
Love,
Angel
PS: If this resonates, you might also like Weave: The Social Fabric Project, where I explore the quiet work of connection, community, and belonging.