Community is something I have longed for all my life. I think it’s a natural human desire—to be a part of an extended family, of a village, of a group of like-minded people who can live together. In the modern era, where the “village” has been replaced with suburban sprawl, tech-based interactions, and the vacuous loneliness of social media, we seem to be more desperate than ever to find real human trust and connection.
Now, the hope to find like-minded friends is nothing unique, but having written for and read homesteading-type publications for decades, I’ve noticed that the chords of desire for it seem to be strummed pretty hard there. From the 70’s-era Mother Earth News magazines chronicling nascent communes and collectives to the modern Youtube homesteaders sharing every step of their journey with a faceless Internet audience, it seems we just want to know that we’re not the only ones trying to grow our own food, build our own lives, and choose something different from the soul-deadening 9-5 life.
I had never really “fit in” in my original hometown. So when we moved to a different state to homestead, I saw it as a chance to start over. I had read so many old books and magazines about how folks had moved to the country, struck up friendships with wise, kindly old neighbors, found others like themselves, shared cows and produce…the dream of finally being able to find my village was going to become a reality. I would try my hardest to make it happen.
Once we relocated to the Ozarks, I set about meeting and befriending as many people as I could in my rural town. I quickly learned that I couldn’t trust my closest neighbors when we had to retrieve stolen Amazon packages from them (awkward!), but I held on to the article’s assurances that “our people” were out there, and I was sure I’d find them if I just tried hard enough. So I offered to use my former teaching experience to help fellow homeschooling parents, taught some folks how to make yogurt and whole-wheat sourdough, and even got invited to a few weddings. I began to teach a few informal foraging classes, started up a seed-swap at my local library, and chatted with the vendors at the farmer’s market.
According to what I’d read, I was doing a great job building community. Now, all the while, I knew that my personal beliefs and off-grid homesteading lifestyle weren’t shared by any of the people I’d met, but all that I’d read assured me that we could eventually connect through proximity and kindness.
I was wrong.
To make a painful story brief, a few years after I’d moved, I suddenly became the target of the most vicious gossip and accusations I have ever endured in my life. All the folks that I had thought were my friends suddenly united against me. It didn’t matter that I had lived and eaten with these people for years by this point—my character, intentions, and “weird” lifestyle and beliefs underwent attack from all sides. Completely taken off guard and extremely hurt, I turned detective to try to salvage my “community” and get to the bottom of what caused the horrible misunderstanding.
I remembered that a few weeks before the “explosion,” I had been in conversation with an acquaintance. We had shared much by this point—I had even brought some plants for her garden at the time of the visit!—so I wasn’t on my guard when she asked me if I supported certain political candidates—including one that I knew she followed with zealous fervor. I not only said I didn’t support any of the candidates mentioned, but I foolishly went on to say why.
(Cue the “Naked Gun”-style group head-slap.)
Even though I had said nothing against her personally, I watched as three years’ worth of kindness was forgotten in an instant, and her eyes hardened. I had made one of the classic blunders (though this one wasn’t a land war in Asia or a battle of wits with a Sicilian): I had been totally honest with someone I knew didn’t agree with me. Since she was well-known in town and came from one of the influential local families, my reputation didn’t stand a chance as soon as she began to gossip about us. As my investigation revealed that no one had defended us against her slander, I finally understood that my friendly overtures had not created a community at all, but more a fragile network of connections between tightly-knit locals and an “outsider” that were easy to blow apart.
The truth is—the truth that many publications do not mention because it goes against the well-indoctrinated notions of acceptance and tolerance—is that people want to be with people who are like themselves. As a result, not everyone actually wants to be in a community with you, no matter how hard you try to connect. And in our modern social environment, where social media has eroded humans’ abilities to communicate and where worldviews have become exceedingly extreme and diametrically opposed to each other, it is impossible to make a trusting community with people who don’t align with you.
For us homesteading-types, the list of folks that don’t align with us can be long. You’ll find that pretty much every element of the homesteading life is offensive or off-puttingly weird to somebody. Not only is “homesteading “ offensive, so is living off-grid, owning acres of land, hunting, butchering your own animals, homeschooling, owning a gun, homebirth, having a big family, moving to the country, or having a viewpoint that you won’t change in the face of direct opposition. If you can believe it, I have even had people refuse to talk to me simply because I don’t have a smartphone. And this isn’t even touching political or spiritual views (which, as you already know, are the most “offensive” of all).
Now, some people will be offended by you no matter what—there’s just some folks who can’t handle anyone different than them. But I made some critical errors in my first few years in my rural town that allowed the gossip wheel to pick up speed and give me a good smoosh. Learn from my mistakes.
If you move to the country and want to try to find a community…
Don’t overshare. Your worldview is important to you, but it should only be shared with folks who you know can understand. You can be honest and authentic without saying absolutely everything that you think. Especially when you’re a newcomer to a rural town, spend more time listening than talking.
Don’t force friendships. I was so eager to forge new connections that I overlooked the obvious conflicts that could happen between folks and me down the road. I always followed up with others, even if they didn’t follow up with me. I probably came across as pretty desperate for friends, which put me in a prone, pitiable position socially. I later learned that anyone who mentioned me in conversation always followed it up with that most disingenuous of country affectations, “bless her heart.”
All the true connections I have eventually begun to find in my area happened naturally and, most importantly, mutually.
Be discerning with who should be part of your life. Saying my opinion on that acquaintance’s chosen candidate was stupid, but my pursuit of friendship with her was probably the most foolish choice of all. As soon as I had met her and seen how religiously she pursued politics that conflicted with my own views, I should have left things at “friendly acquaintance.” More often than not, you should trust your gut when it gives you a warning.
Don’t get discouraged. Real friendships and real connections take time. Lots of it. They’re worth waiting for.
Treasure what you do have. If you have relocated to a rural area to start a new life on a homestead, you’ve embarked on a huge, difficult, worthy adventure. But it’s hard work to forge a new life, and the truth is…not a lot of folks are going to understand it. Remember, none of us chose this life to be popular—we chose it because we thought it was the right thing to do. That’s something to value, even if it’s sometimes isolating.
After time passed, I started recovering from the social blow. The folks I had initially met, however, never talked with me again, even after I tried to set things right. But after seeing how quickly they decided to attack me based on hearsay, I realized that they weren’t the sort of folks I would have been able to trust in the long term. Instead of seeking out people with dogged persistence, I started to follow the advice I just gave you. I waited. I listened. I stopped over-sharing with strangers. And I was thankful for the life I was building with my family, even if no one else understood at the time.
And at the end of the day, I did find someone who I aligned with in world-view, lifestyle, and work ethic, and who was like-minded in every way that mattered… I had married him!