I know of you.
This past weekend, a conversation with a friend brought to light a perspective I’ve always had but never quite articulated. My friend, a bodybuilder, observed that the community she’s built at her gym feels richer and more authentic than any other tribe she’s ever been a part of. I think it’s because she’s surrounded by people who truly understand why she eats plain rice and chicken six times a day. But her point was broader: platforms like social media often disrupt this genuine belonging, replacing it with a generic substitute.
To a large extent, I think she’s right. The architecture of social media, especially a platform like Instagram that I love, promotes homogeneity. It offers the subtle promise that mutual follows create a real connection. But the reality is that these interactions are often little more than a superficial “I know of you.” It’s a far cry from the true belonging that comes from sharing a physical space and a common struggle.
There is a profound beauty in spending time with people who share your worldview. This connection brings a rare sense of ease and belonging in a world that encourages us to befriend everyone. It’s why I’ve always valued a smaller, closer circle of friends over a wider one.
Yet, there’s a crucial caveat. The comfort of a tribe can curdle into an echo chamber where connection is conditional on conformity. The difference between a community and a cult is that a true tribe respects your individuality and allows for disagreement. It should understand a part of you, not demand all of you, leaving room for those things that will forever remain personal and undiluted.
The pressure to be seen and liked by everyone can dilute our most meaningful relationships. Perhaps the real work isn’t navigating a world that pushes for sameness, but consciously seeking and nurturing the few relationships that allow us to feel truly seen and understood.
I might know of you but I am also interested in knowing you.