It didn’t feel like it at the time, but after moving to Miami I can confidently say that Atlanta was a soft landing to life in the south. The two cities are wildly different from each other, but both provide a sense of living in a “bubble.” They are both far more liberal and diverse than the immediate surrounding area. But they both exhibit the sense of lawlessness which pervades the entire south. This individualist attitude is one that I find both freeing and terrifying.
I thought I knew what I was getting into by moving to Miami. But once I arrived the level as to which people not only exhibited but flaunted this caviler attitude still managed to shock me. This is compounded by the level of entitlement that comes with the flashy, expensive lifestyle that seemingly everyone has or is pretending to have in the Magic City. No helmet? No problem. There is no one here that will stop you from riding your motorcycle without one. Or customizing whatever sadly expensive vehicle you may have with LED lights and a sound system designed, apparently, specifically to blast music at 3 am in residential areas. The inhibition is intoxicating, which lends itself neatly to the emphasis on individual freedom of choice over communal good or even personal well being.
It surprised me that leaving Atlanta in October of last year felt so bittersweet. It had taken me a long time to find my place there. To form close friendships and integrate myself into the community spaces where I actually wanted to be. In part this was because it seems to only get harder to make new friends as you get older. It was also partly due to the pandemic. I move to Atlanta one year before lock down. I felt isolated, and I changed a lot during the pandemic. My interests shifted, and as a result the ways in which I wanted to connect with others also shifted.
So instead of mourning what I lost by moving, I decided to take the lessons I had learned in Atlanta and apply them to Miami. I was hopeful that I would avoid making the same mistakes. I wanted to put myself out there right away, to find the spaces where I felt comfortable and make a genuine effort to connect with others.
But when I first arrived, there were so many other things to do. I needed to get settled and adjust to my new work routine. Then as the months wore on and my excuses ran thin, I still found myself staying in most of the time. As most people in a long term relationship can attest, it is easy to just sink further into the couch on a weeknight. Why trade what is familiar and low effort for the cost, commute, and ocasional existential terror of navigating new social situations?
I tried going to yoga, and was greeted by a full front row of women in expensive, trendy sets of matching leggings and sports bras. They all had their cameras and ring lights set up to record themselves. There is nothing inherently wrong with that, but I didn’t want to do them the disservice of falling over, red faced and sweaty in the background of their content.
I went to different events, and left feeling like everyone was trying to sell me something. I tried organizing a meditation group, which was a lot of effort without much success. Then I tried going out dancing, but I wasn’t enjoying it or the people I was meeting. I became tired pretty quickly. I figured there would be a true dirty hippy hiding out among the wellness influencer types. Or a depressed weirdo I could connect with hidden within the normies. I knew it would be difficult to find my kind of people in Miami. I just didn’t expect it to be quite so difficult.
So when a friend in Atlanta sent me a promo reel of an event in Miami for women looking to make friends, specifically as a way to meet other “sober baddies.” I was skeptical. It cost $55 and the dress code was something like “earth angel.” Not exactly my cup of tea, but I figured what the hell. What I had been trying to do wasn’t working. I arrived purposely 20 minutes late. At first I was mortified because my GPS took me to a dingy apartment initially. I have nothing against dingy apartment buildings. Lord knows I have spent more than my fair share of time in sketchy housing complexes.
But let me be clear that is not the experience I had just paid all this money for. I was relieved when the correct venue turned out to be a nice open space at the hostel next door. A woman in a flowing dress greeted me with an impressive goodie bag. Palo santo incense, granola, a gratitude journal and a sparkling yerba mate beverage. I was instructed to sit by people I didn’t know, which was easy enough. We started chatting right away and sipping on the yerba mate. I noticed that it was not particularly good but didn’t register anything about it otherwise.
Things started off well, with a speed round version of friend dating. There were conversation starter cards on the table. They had questions such as, “What is a fear you have overcome recently?” Or, “If you could live anywhere, where would it be?” We switched partners every five minutes. Some conversations were mundane, some were not. One woman told me that her unique ability was speaking five different languages. These included the ability to speak English, Spanish, to plants, and to cats. The tables turned when I found myself defending the existence of climate change after getting called a conspiracy theorist. It is safe to assume that I didn’t exactly walk out of there with a whole new sober baddie crew.
What I realized half way through the friend speed dating is that the beverage they had given us actually contained 20 whole milligrams of THC. I’m all for edibles, but only in the comfort and safety of my own home. And only when I am taking them willingly and with prior knowledge and consent. Why would anyone make it a point to create a sober event specifically, and then give out products with THC in them? Especially without explicitly telling people that they are about to get totally zooted while talking to strangers?
After a few rounds of speed dating we all got up to take a twerking class, which everyone was into, and then an ecstatic dance lesson, which everyone was not into. We ended with a sound bath. As I lay there, too high to be in public, I started over thinking about community, all my hang ups, and what had actually led me to participate in this event.
I have felt like an outsider for most of my life. But I recognize that there are a lot of people who also feel this way. I have always craved community but I didn’t know how to become a part of one, what that would even look like for me. I have made a few close friends at pretty much every stage of my life. But even with dance I never felt included as part of a larger social group. I think the need I feel for making friends or finding community is legitimate. I moved here not knowing anyone. But as I reflected, I realized I was putting pressure on myself to find community because I was afraid. And the fear is unwarranted.
As of this writing, I have not solved all of my community related problems and complicated feelings around belonging. But I do think I am closer to a headspace that works for me, not against me. I’ve stopped putting so much pressure on myself to get out there and make friends. What kind of fun is that, anyway? But just staying home and mostly watching tv during the weeknights and only going out with my husband wasn’t working. The deal I’ve made with myself is to try one new social activity every week. Whether I feel like it or not. Whether I think it is something I will enjoy or not. Even if it is far. Even if it will probably be stupid. What matters is breaking out of my routine. And if nothing else, I can come away with a good story.
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