I’ve loved words for as long as I can remember. Growing up (before the internet, so cut me some slack), I read the dictionary. The encyclopedia. Books, constantly, endlessly…so many, MANY books. I loved the stories, the escape. The far away worlds, dragons, princesses, and spaceships. In high school, one of my favorite classes was Latin and Greek, and something about tracing a word back to its roots felt like finding a secret door.

(Speaking of roots: did you know the the Latin root of “community” is a combination of “con”, meaning together, and “munis,” meaning shared responsibility. Hold onto that. It matters later.)

You guessed correctly that I love dad jokes and puns. Perhaps I should have been an etymologist given how I love the way language often includes little tiny surprises (like, learning that the opposite of “don” is “doff;” like, “on and “off”...that was new to me)! And I love Bananagrams. Unreasonably so. My Hinge profile literally says “I’m undefeated at Bananagrams,” which has generated far more challenges than dates.

So I wanted to find my people. The ones who get giddy over a good portmanteau. The ones who also read the dictionary for fun before they had anything better to do on a Saturday afternoon.

That’s why I founded Word Play Social, a monthly game night built around word games.

An invitation, not an announcement

Here’s a thing I’ve learned doing this work: you don’t launch a community. You invite people into one.

I started by going back to our own Connection Academy curriculum at week nights and using it to define the community. What is this for, who is it for, and why should it exist? I landed on this: Word Play Social is where connecting letters into words becomes the spark for connecting with each other.

Then I did something simple. I invited people. Friends. Folks at my coworking space. Fellow word nerds I’d collected. Not “announcing” a new thing, just saying: I’m making space for people like us. Want to come?

The first gathering was six people. Barely enough for a game of Scrabble. But, it was the start, the root…

From there, I grew it the old-fashioned way: newsletters, talking about it at parties, social media, and the quiet power of word of mouth. Now, 40+ people show up every month and we have over 300 people on our mailing list.

Building it the week nights way

We built week nights specifically to help community builders do what they set out to do: build community and create social connection. And week nights’ has been instrumental in growing Word Play Social.

One of my favorite features is that week night’s can automatically tag who’s attended before and who hasn’t. See, a second-timer is still deciding if this is their community and if they belong. But, a third-timer has already started to answer that question (and my heart is FULL from these folks!). Knowing who’s who means I can meet people exactly where they are, acknowledge the newcomers, celebrate the regulars, and make everyone feel like their presence is noticed (if you’ve read my prior posts, you know how much I care about people feeling seen).

Our week nights platform shows who’s attended consistently, so when I needed someone to help check people in or set up the space, I already knew who to ask. That sense of shared responsibility is then felt by my fellow Worders.

Then there’s the flake rate. We all think we know it. Free event? Assume half won’t show. Paid? Fewer no-shows. But thinking you know and actually knowing are different things. week nights shows me my ACTUAL flake rate, so I can make real decisions and keep the room full of curious, engaged players instead of guessing and hoping.

And the game fund, the small optional contribution that helps us keep buying new word games, I could see whether my ask was landing. Whether people felt invested enough to chip in. Turns out, they did. After our next event, I’m planning to build an audience in week night’s of people who’ve contributed across multiple gatherings and send each of them a personal note of thanks. Because that kind of investment deserves to be recognized.

Shared responsibility in action

Let’s go back to the root (I guess I like that word) of community. Con and munis…together, shared responsibility.

At our last event, over 50% of the people who showed up were returners. And 75% of worders contribute to the game fund every month. We owe it to each other to give back to our community.

I can see the community forming in the small things. So far, no one has been left sitting out of a game. People are bringing their own games. Suggesting we do other wordy-nerdy activities.

Together, we added one small ritual: at the end of every game, everyone claps. Win or lose. Because I want people to feel like they’re part of something, not just competing.

At our last event, before we called it a night, I looked around and saw most of the games had wound down. And people were just... talking.

Between gatherings, we stay connected on WhatsApp. We talk. It keeps us bound together, like two words crossed on a Scrabble board.

If only I had the words to describe it…

What’s next

My role is shifting. Less host, more nurturer (gardener?). I’ve already made new friends through this, and that alone makes it worth it.

Our next gathering is called “Words in Bloom,” you know, because you need a good pun now and again.

Word Play Social will be part of Community Week NYC (May 9-17). To find your people, visit www.communityweek.nyc.

The next Word Play Social is April 8. Sign up here.

Learn how to build and sustain community

Our next Connection Academy series is coming up. Register today:

• April 14 at 6:30pm: Connection Academy 101: Creating Community

• April 28 at 6:30pm: Connection Academy 201: Sustaining Community

Building community has to be intentional. And when it works, it’s beautiful.

They’re running book clubs and storytelling nights and run clubs and game nights. They’re showing up every time to hold space for people who need it. They’re building belonging from scratch, on passion and fumes (not to mention hoping and praying someone shows up), with almost no infrastructure beneath them. Communities can feel like they’re held together by chewing gum and popsicle sticks.

And when you’re under that pressure, it’s hard to see that what you’re doing is vital to the health of our neighborhoods, cities, and even our democracy. But it is. And it’s time we started treating it that way.

That’s why when Sugary NYC reached out to us to collaborate on launching Community Week NYC, we leapt at the chance.

Why this, why now

New Yorkers (yes, we’re talking to you!) crave real connection; more than half of them report feeling lonely. And they aren’t looking for another event. They’re looking for somewhere to be seen, feel like they matter…and that they belong.

The people helping address this deserve more than a shoutout, kudos, a pat on the back. They deserve tools, peers, real support, and a city that shows up for them the way they show up for everyone else.

What Community Week NYC actually is

It’s a nine-day, city-wide celebration of social connection running May 9-17 across all five boroughs. We’re planning for 50 (or more!) community builders and leaders hosting events, all free or low-cost, all built around one thing: real human connection.

But it’s bigger than a week of events. It’s the launching point for a permanent platform that advocates for community builders, develops their capacity, and makes the case that social connection is worth investing in. For neighborhoods. For small businesses. For public health. For cities.

Come to the info session

If you want to learn more, we’re hosting an info session and community builder meetup on Wednesday, March 18, from 6:30-8:30 PM at Fabrik in Tribeca. RSVP here.

Whether you run a community, want to start one, or just want a richer social life in this city, this is where it starts. Come meet the people building community across New York, find out how to get involved, and learn what support exists for builders like you.

And if you’re ready to go, fill out our community interest form today!

Follow along at @communityweek.nyc as we build toward Community Week NYC this coming May.

Community Week NYC is presented by Sugary NYC and week nights.

Questions? Say hello at hello@communityweek.nyc.

That’s the idea behind week nights’ Connection Academy and our upcoming workshop series for people who feel called to host, gather, and bring people together.

Whether you’re dreaming up your first event or already running a community and wondering why it still feels hard, these workshops are for you.

Connection Academy 101: Creating Belonging

March 16 | 6:30PM | Antler Accelerator (Flatiron)

This is an introduction to building social connection through intentional, sustainable in-person gatherings.

We’ll start at the beginning: what community actually is (and what it isn’t), why belonging doesn’t just emerge on its own, and what it really means to take on the role of community builder while staying true to what you’re building. From there, we’ll get practical: clarifying who your community is for, designing gatherings that give people a real reason to come back, and building structures that support long-term sustainability for your members and for yourself.

This workshop is for you if you’re just getting started, or if you’ve been hosting for a while and want to be more intentional about how your community grows.

👉 Register for 101

Connection Academy 201: Sustaining Belonging

March 23 | 6:30PM | Antler Accelerator (Flatiron)

This one picks up where 101 leaves off, but you don’t need to attend 101 to show up for this.

Our Sustaining Belonging workshop is for community builders who are already running gatherings and navigating the harder questions: How do you keep people engaged over time? How do you bring others in without losing what makes your community work? And how do you think clearly about charging money and other forms of financial sustainability without losing the soul of what you’re building?

We’ll dig into the community lifecycle, designing for commitment (not just attendance), building a team and sharing ownership without burning out, and why it’s actually OK to ask for contributions (including money) from your community members.

This workshop is for you if you’ve run at least a few gatherings and are ready to think seriously about what comes next.

👉 Register for 201

A note on the series: You do NOT need to attend both. Each workshop has its own content and stands alone. That said, if community-building is at the center of what you’re doing, spending two evenings going deep on this work might be exactly what the season calls for.

Both workshops are built for conversation and getting the real work done. Come ready to dig in.

In community, Jesse B and Shai

I love bringing people together. I really do. But every time I hover over the “send” button, a familiar spiral kicks in: Am I just adding noise to my friends’ lives? Will anyone actually come? Are they saying ‘yes’ because they want to - or is it out of obligation?

If you’ve ever tried to host anything, you probably recognize that anxiety.

My birthday is coming up, and I’m still relatively new to New York. I don’t have decades-long friendships here yet. What I do have is a growing web of communities I belong to, a handful of newer friends, and a lot of friends-of-friends. That in-between stage where you’re not lonely, but you’re also not deeply rooted.

So when I decided to invite people to an arts and crafts night at Recess Grove, an arts bar in Brooklyn, all of that insecurity came along for the ride.

These anxieties don’t magically disappear just because you know community building is valuable. If anything, they can get louder when you care.

And this is where I think a lot of early community builders get stuck.

The Lie We Tell Ourselves

There’s a story we tell ourselves that inviting people is a burden. That inboxes are full, calendars are crowded, and we’re competing with a thousand other priorities.

But here’s the truth I keep relearning: people are people. And most people are quietly looking for a reason to get out of the house and do something that feels human.

A clear invitation cuts through the noise.
A specific plan is a relief.
Someone else doing the work of organizing is a gift.

When you invite someone, you’re not demanding attention: you’re offering a possibility.

Why Friends Are the Starting Line (Not the Finish Line)

If you’re early in your community-building journey, your friends and family are not a cop-out. They are the foundation.

They are your first attendees.
Your first volunteers.
Your first greeters and check-in helpers.

They’ll show up even when things are scrappy. They’ll forgive the awkward transitions, the lopsided turnout, the event that isn’t quite what you imagined yet.

More importantly, they’ll give you the feedback you actually need (not the polite “oh, that was nice” feedback we give so we’re keeping to the norms of not rocking the boat). Your people will tell you what worked, what didn’t, and what felt confusing. That honesty is gold early on.

Inviting friends isn’t about padding numbers. It’s about not starting from zero. It’s an opportunity to let people who care about you understand what you’re building, why it matters to you, and how they can support it.

What Actually Happened

I sent the invite anyway.

And within thirty minutes, half a dozen people responded saying they were coming, that they wouldn’t miss it.

No obligation. No guilt. Just enthusiasm.

That’s usually how it goes.

The Real Work: Courageous Action

If you’re building something, whether it be a community, an event series, or other gathering, you have to get over the idea that you’re bothering people.

You’re not.

You’re practicing leadership. You’re practicing vulnerability - which, as Brené Brown reminds us, is one of the most courageous things you can do.

It takes confidence to send that invite, to put yourself out there, to say “I’m creating something and I want you to be part of it.” And here’s the beautiful part: that initial act of courage builds even more confidence. Each time you survive sending it and realize the world didn’t collapse - that people were actually glad you did - you’re strengthening that muscle.

So here’s the call, especially if you’re early on:

Get over it. Send the invite. Trust the people who already care about you. Let them help you build.

That’s not weakness. That’s how communities start.

But for a lot of community builders, community feels like a one-way street. They’re just as lonely (or lonelier) than they were before they founded their community. They had a dream, and it didn’t offer the fulfillment they dreamed of.

It’s not their fault. It’s about how we think about community.

Here’s the problem: we don’t treat community builders as people running something valuable. Instead, building community is seen as woo woo, hokey, or somehow born out of pure sacrifice. We expect it to be free, a labor of love, something you do on the side while burning yourself out.

This is capitalism’s strangest trick. We pay for everything: gym memberships, art classes, networking events, coworking spaces. But community? That should be free, we think, because it’s about human connection, and human connection is sacred. It shouldn’t be transactional.

But here’s what that misses: we’re not naturally forming communities anymore. Robert Putnam warned us about this in “Bowling Alone.” The organic social structures where people naturally connected - neighborhoods, churches, bowling leagues, union halls - have largely disappeared. We’re lonelier than ever, and we’re not going to stumble into community by accident.

That’s where community builders come in. They do the work. They show up consistently. They create the structures. They hold the space. And if we want them to keep doing that work without burning out, we need to stop treating community building like charity and start recognizing it for what it is: essential work that deserves support.

Finding community, building community, isn’t easy. Plenty of people claim to be building community. Most of them are just hosting events. Real community is rare, and it’s intentionally built by dedicated organizers who understand the difference. And that work can be lonely and painful in its own right.

So what’s the answer? It starts with understanding what community actually means.

Community comes from the Latin commūnitās, meaning fellowship, shared life, or commonness.

That noun is built from:

• com- = together, with

• mūnis / mūnera = duty, service, obligation, gift

At its root, community literally means “people bound together by shared duties and mutual obligations.”

Not one-way giving. Mutual obligations.

That changes everything. It means community builders give, yes. But those who participate in community? They’re contributors too. They have responsibilities.

The first responsibility is simple: show up. Show up to things. It’s the first step to finding belonging.

But the more you show up, and the more you belong, the more ways you can contribute. You can offer your time, help the organizer with tasks they’re drowning in. Trust me, they need the help, even if they’re terrible at delegating.

And yes, it can mean paying or contributing financially to the community. Not because community should be transactional, but because sustainable community requires resources, and the person building it shouldn’t have to sacrifice their own wellbeing to provide those resources.

When both sides feel compelled to give and contribute, community becomes sustainable. The builder isn’t lonely anymore. The members feel ownership. Everyone belongs.

If you’re in a community, get involved. If you’re a builder, remember to accept the help.

This is how it works.

This is why we built week nights: a platform that helps community organizers build, grow, and sustain their communities without the constant struggle. We believe great communities are built through consistent, meaningful connections, and that the work of building them should be supported, not martyred.

week nights removes the friction so organizers can focus on what matters: bringing people together and creating experiences that make belonging possible.

If you’re ready to build community the right way, with mutual obligation and real sustainability, reach out. We’re here to help.

At its core, community begins when someone shows up to an event or gathering because they want to be around other people.

Not because it’s necessarily productive (though it can be). Not because it looks good or the vibes are there (though it can be).

Just because being around other humans feels worthwhile.

That’s it. That’s community. Everything else is decoration.

And when community is done right, it is a powerful feeling (and yes, it’s a feeling, not just a thing to participate in). What emerges from community, like a rainbow, like a piece of art, like the awe when you look at a sea of stars, is the hopeful, whimsical, calming feeling of belonging.

Belonging is that sense where you look around you and you see friends, true friends and people who are soon to be friends. It’s walking into a room and simply being yourself.

Yes, “community” is everywhere right now. It’s en vogue, overused, and can be quite trite. But there’s a reason everyone is talking about it: community is needed now more than ever. According to the Cigna’s “Loneliness in America 2025” survey conducted by the Evernorth Research Institute, half of American adults are lonely. Let that sink in. Half. And among young adults, the numbers are even worse. These aren’t small problems. Loneliness and isolation are more widespread than many of the other major health issues of our day.

And this isn’t new: in 2000, Robert Putnam warned us in “Bowling Alone” that Americans were becoming dangerously disconnected from family, friends, neighbors, and the social structures that keep us healthy and whole. We didn’t listen. Two decades later, we’re living the consequences.

I have seen the power of community. When I founded a competitive karaoke league, many performers shared how they had never felt so included, and so safe. When I moved to New York City, where I attended reading parties and writing clubs, I found myself being included and never alone.

But here’s the thing: finding community, building community, isn’t easy. Plenty of people claim to be building community. Most of them are just hosting events. Real community is rare, and it’s intentionally built by dedicated organizers who understand the difference. And that work can be lonely and painful in its own right.

This is why we built week nights: an all-in-one platform used by community organizers to build, grow, and sustain their communities. We believe trust and belonging are built face to face. Communities grow through consistent, meaningful, intentional connections in real life. But running a community shouldn’t be a constant struggle. It should be a joy.

week nights gives organizers the tools to easily create, grow, and sustain those moments. Less friction, fewer spreadsheets, more time bringing people together.

If you want to join us in ending loneliness and building real community, reach out. We need you.

One way you can get started is to join our Connection Academy on February 4. Learn more and sign up here.