Name: Tess
Home: St. Louis
Bowling with Lots & Lots of People
A few weeks ago, I volunteered with StudioSTL at the Big Read literary festival. As I walked by the booths, I passed the St. Louis Writer's Guild and said hi to people I know who were staffing the table. I arrived at the StudioSTL table, put on my witch's hat (we were supposed to dress as storybook characters), and proceeded to spend two hours sharing information with passersby and helping very excited children play a fishing game. During that time, I saw a member of my critique group and her family; the professor of the class I'm taking, with her two sons; and a member of a book club I'm in, with her daughter.
That afternoon, I reflected on all the different people I know in St. Louis, and all the different groups of which I'm a member. In Bowling Alone, Robert Putnam describes the breakdown of American community and social groups, but in my life I've noticed just the opposite. (And if you haven't read his book, by the way, you absolutely should.) I've never literally gone bowling here, but I've had two chances to with different groups.
After moving to St. Louis, I joined two moms groups. (I attempted to join a third, but I became overwhelmed and couldn't keep up with all the events.) Both of those groups have book clubs, and I'm a member of a third independent book club as well. With writing, I'm a member of the St. Louis Writer's Guild, a critique group, and StudioSTL. We've found a religious community we've been going to regularly. We're members of the Y and go several times a week; Ben has a gym class there and I have a ballet class. I have a great group of "online friends" across the country that I now manage to see more often than some of my "real life" friends. Although I would not consider myself an extrovert, after moving here and knowing no one, I made a concerted effort to act like one. After two and a half years, I'm feeling connected here.
Several factors have led to all this social capital. Certainly, being middle-class helps; affording dues for various groups is not much of a stretch, and my high-speed internet connection helps me keep in touch. Living in an urban/suburban area also helps, since there's enough population density to sustain all kinds of groups. The fact that I only work two days a week has given me the time to volunteer and get out and meet people. Tom's support has given me the chance to go out in the evenings while he stays home. My own shift in attitude towards writing--moving from seeing it as a solitary pursuit to an activity that thrives on support--led me to get out of my house and find some kindred spirits.
When I think of the two moms groups I joined, one factor really stands out for me in terms of social capital: the role of the internet. One of the groups has a bulletin board, and the other doesn't--and that one factor has made a big difference.
In the first group, we can get online and chat virtually when the kids are napping or asleep. We can ask for advice about parenting problems, propose outings, and vent frustrations. As a result, I feel much closer to that group as a whole than the other one, even though I probably have the same amount in common with both. In the first group, when I see someone at a picnic or a happy hour, we might not have spoken face-to-face in months, but we have had online discussions about parenting, religion, or politics; in the other group, I have fewer things to talk to people about when I actually see them. When one of the members of the first group was experiencing post partum depression, she was able to post about her feelings, though she may not have felt comfortable calling people up or knocking on doors; as a result, I was able to talk her into letting me come over and help out. That group has given me referrals for a handyman, a church, and a driveway paving service; allowed me to swap countless books; given us a place to stay when our power went out; provided an exchange of free babysitting; netted us a free toddler bed; given all members who have new babies "food showers"; given Ben invitations to countless birthday parties; and provided information about events in the St. Louis area.
In the early days of the Internet, people worried that being online would lead to social isolation as people refused to budge from their computers. While I'm not completely sanguine about the time I spend online (I worry that I sink too quickly into Internetland when I start feeling down), I can also see tremendous benefits from it. If you want go bowling with others--or see a movie, or go out to tea--companionship is only a post away.
That afternoon, I reflected on all the different people I know in St. Louis, and all the different groups of which I'm a member. In Bowling Alone, Robert Putnam describes the breakdown of American community and social groups, but in my life I've noticed just the opposite. (And if you haven't read his book, by the way, you absolutely should.) I've never literally gone bowling here, but I've had two chances to with different groups.
After moving to St. Louis, I joined two moms groups. (I attempted to join a third, but I became overwhelmed and couldn't keep up with all the events.) Both of those groups have book clubs, and I'm a member of a third independent book club as well. With writing, I'm a member of the St. Louis Writer's Guild, a critique group, and StudioSTL. We've found a religious community we've been going to regularly. We're members of the Y and go several times a week; Ben has a gym class there and I have a ballet class. I have a great group of "online friends" across the country that I now manage to see more often than some of my "real life" friends. Although I would not consider myself an extrovert, after moving here and knowing no one, I made a concerted effort to act like one. After two and a half years, I'm feeling connected here.
Several factors have led to all this social capital. Certainly, being middle-class helps; affording dues for various groups is not much of a stretch, and my high-speed internet connection helps me keep in touch. Living in an urban/suburban area also helps, since there's enough population density to sustain all kinds of groups. The fact that I only work two days a week has given me the time to volunteer and get out and meet people. Tom's support has given me the chance to go out in the evenings while he stays home. My own shift in attitude towards writing--moving from seeing it as a solitary pursuit to an activity that thrives on support--led me to get out of my house and find some kindred spirits.
When I think of the two moms groups I joined, one factor really stands out for me in terms of social capital: the role of the internet. One of the groups has a bulletin board, and the other doesn't--and that one factor has made a big difference.
In the first group, we can get online and chat virtually when the kids are napping or asleep. We can ask for advice about parenting problems, propose outings, and vent frustrations. As a result, I feel much closer to that group as a whole than the other one, even though I probably have the same amount in common with both. In the first group, when I see someone at a picnic or a happy hour, we might not have spoken face-to-face in months, but we have had online discussions about parenting, religion, or politics; in the other group, I have fewer things to talk to people about when I actually see them. When one of the members of the first group was experiencing post partum depression, she was able to post about her feelings, though she may not have felt comfortable calling people up or knocking on doors; as a result, I was able to talk her into letting me come over and help out. That group has given me referrals for a handyman, a church, and a driveway paving service; allowed me to swap countless books; given us a place to stay when our power went out; provided an exchange of free babysitting; netted us a free toddler bed; given all members who have new babies "food showers"; given Ben invitations to countless birthday parties; and provided information about events in the St. Louis area.
In the early days of the Internet, people worried that being online would lead to social isolation as people refused to budge from their computers. While I'm not completely sanguine about the time I spend online (I worry that I sink too quickly into Internetland when I start feeling down), I can also see tremendous benefits from it. If you want go bowling with others--or see a movie, or go out to tea--companionship is only a post away.
posted by Tess | 11:15 AM
2 Comments:
Interesting commentary. As someone who was your friend long before you started writing on-line, I have to admit that your blog has made it much easier to keep up with your life. (If only I kept up my postings on my personal blog one quarter as much!)
Your experience with on-line community offers a striking refutation of the thesis that technological change drives social change. For, just as the internet can be used as a force for building community, you are also right to point out that we all (and I implicate myself here too) do spend time on-line that takes us away from real communities--clicking from website to website, often written by people we don't know and will probably never meet in real life, or reading depressing news stories and commentaries instead of joining a local political movement that might actually do something. I've noticed that I always feel better afterwards when my time on-line builds community rather than when it is a simple diversion when I am tired or unmotivated. And I think your experience provides a good model for how to do that.
I think part of what the early internet-critics were reacting to was the limited user base. When one in a thousand people have access, it's reasonable to assume online communities will restrict offline contact, because the chances of running into one of those online people offline is minimal.
Once internet usage crossed the threshold where most of your friends and family were on it, it was able to support rather than compete with offline socialization. It's no coincidence that facebook and twitter and flickr took off in the mid 2000s and not the mid 1990s.
I think it really is amazing to think back on the "early" days of the internet -- anything pre-1998 or so -- and just how different it was. Yea, you could shop and find music and email, but it really was a different world, socially.
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