Inviting People Is Hard (Do It Anyway)

Sending out birthday invitations is weirdly nerve-wracking for me.

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.