Community-Building in an Age of Detachment
On the first floor of the Madison Pub, I am gathered with about forty strangers to gossip. We are going to talk about gossip, and if we do it, and why we do it, and what gossip even is, actually. I am currently under the impression that I don’t gossip at all. By the end of tonight, I will have changed my mind. This, in many ways, is the point.
The event is called Curiosity Cafe. This particular discussion is co-facilitated by Sophia Whicher, a philosopher and community organizer based in Toronto. I chose to interview Whicher because I think the work that she is doing, both independently and within organizations, an antidote to the pervasive loneliness I see affecting this city. I cannot forget that just a few years ago, one did not have the privilege of gathering in a room with about forty strangers. The pandemic took community from us, and I think we are still learning how to get it back.
Whicher has always been interested in philosophy. She did a double major in Philosophy and Ethics, Society and Law at the University of Toronto before pursuing her Master’s. After graduating, she was unsure precisely what she wanted to do, but knew that it had to involve people, discussion and community-building. Her ongoing work is a testament to that.
Whicher is the Director of Community Programming at Being and Becoming, a public philosophy nonprofit. Public philosophy is more accessible, she explains, and is geared towards the general public, not just academic philosophers. Her and her peers conceptualized the idea for the organization three years ago as a way to bring philosophical musings into everyday life. “It felt so silly that these discussions were just relegated to the classroom,” Whicher says. “Why can’t we have these conversations with our friends?”
Since then, the organization has flourished. They run public philosophy workshops, classes and events across the city, the most popular being their Curiosity Cafes, which occur every other Tuesday. These cafes are designed to cultivate community and conversation, each one centred around a main topic. Past themes included loneliness, democracy, games, regret, consciousness, music, shame, anger, intellectual autonomy, art, grief and injustice — to name a few. Their first-ever cafe, Whicher tells me, was titled simply: What Is Love? It is a huge feat to narrow down such vast topics to digestible discussions, but this is exactly what the Curiosity Cafes do — no doubt thanks to the Being and Becoming staff who facilitate them.
Whicher’s own role as a facilitator came naturally. “Basically, I love teaching. I love teaching philosophy. It makes me sparkle.”
Watching Whicher conduct a Curiosity Cafe, it quickly becomes clear what she means by “sparkle”. Amidst the pre-discussion chatter, she flutters into the middle of the circle with clasped hands, her energy streaming out through her limbs like ribbons. She twirls as she speaks, huge looping steps that allow her to somehow address every individual in the room at once. Her voice is clear and certain: “If you can hear me, clap once!”
Everyone claps once.
Whicher’s teaching style is like a dance, at once choreographed and spontaneous. You can tell that there’s nowhere else she’d rather be. She wants to discuss this with us and she wants to know what we think. “It’s like we all have the pieces of a puzzle in our brains,” she says. “Let’s see how they fit.”
Curiosity Cafe utilizes a variety of tools to make its discussion spaces more accessible. They’re open to everyone. Tickets are pay-what-you-can. The aim is to discuss, not debate. The discussions themselves are done in both small and large groups, allowing everyone an opportunity to talk. Whicher’s favourite tool is called “jazz hands” (she says this while holding up both hands and wiggling her fingers whimsically). Similar to raising your hand if you have a question, jazz hands is a gesture asking for clarification on a concept or name. “If you feel the need to name-drop a famous philosophy guy,” Whicher says, “there might be some people who have no sweet clue who that is. So we make jazz hands to ask them to explain what they’re referencing.”
These tools demystify philosophy spaces and allow everyone to meaningfully contribute. At the Cafes, the air is a constant hum of conversation. People want to share. There is a hunger here for real, poignant dialogues. The fact that such deep conversations can occur with total strangers is even cooler.
After each Curiosity Cafe, attendees are encouraged to stick around upstairs to continue socializing. Near the exit sits the Everything Box, a place for participants to submit anything they want: comments, questions, jokes, compliments, insults, even topic suggestions. Sometimes these topics are chosen for future events and co-facilitated with the person who made the suggestion. In these ways, Being and Becoming encourages participation and contribution, cultivating a strong community with valued members. Many people are regulars, and for good reason.
Whicher tells me she wants to see a social shift in philosophy spaces. For too long, philosophy has been a patriarchal institution, catering solely to men insistently quoting other dead men at each other. Being and Becoming’s work emphasizes a diversity of perspectives and voices. “Who are we taking seriously and why?” Whicher says. “We have got to start asking that question.”
This was one of the first things I noticed upon entering the space — people of all different genders, backgrounds and even ages (very refreshing to see in Toronto, where events are often divided generationally). This diversity enriches the conversation and expands people’s perception of the topics.
“Ultimately, the goal is to get people to think about things,” Whicher says, “and to see that they actually already have thoughts about things, and that those thoughts are valuable.”
It is a very special thing to be in this space, to understand that everyone around you has something interesting to say, and then to realize that you, too, have something to give. It’s hard to find places that cultivate this atmosphere, and I feel grateful that it exists here today.
Recently, Whicher has also begun her own initiative: discussion-based events across the city specifically for queer people. These events — born out of her own desire to explore questions through a queer framework — are more intimate discussions about concepts like attraction, flirting and authenticity. They relate broadly to her particular philosophical area of interest: the intersection of love and liberation. “The topics are things that I’ve been thinking about related to my own queerness that I think would resonate with others.”
For her, these events are also a way to both build and actively participate in the queer community. “My skill is facilitating,” Whicher explains, “so just thinking about how I can use this skill I have to contribute to the community, to give back.”
While Whicher hopes to continue these events, she is also content with a certain level of uncertainty about what the future holds. “It makes people feel more comfortable that I’m not fully put together,” she says, laughing. “It sets an example that you don’t have to be perfect. You don’t always have to know what you’re doing. It makes it welcoming and accessible.”
I’ve been lucky enough to attend a few of Whicher’s own events, and each time I am blown away by how comfortable the space is. Whicher’s facilitation and discussion prompts provide a soft place to land while we unpack things like the ethics of flirting and the difference between platonic and romantic love. They are big topics, but we are all coming at them from an angle of curiosity and a keen interest in how we relate to these ideas and to each other. There is a true sense of community in these spaces.
When I ask Whicher to define community, she quotes bell hooks: “a group of individuals who have learned how to communicate honestly with each other, whose relationships go deeper than their masks of composure and who have developed some significant commitment to ‘rejoice together, mourn together’ and to ‘delight in each other and make each other’s conditions our own’.”
Community-building is not easy, especially when we have forgotten just how vital it truly is. But the work Whicher is doing helps us recall and regain this sense of community, something so inherent to our humanity. “It’s a feeling of being part of a bigger group that is interconnected,” Whicher says. “Building connections with other people is one of the best ways we can work against the systems that pull us apart.”
This work is important, and it’s effective. It reminds us, again and again, just how easy it is to connect with each other — to talk and share and play and love together — when we have the time, space and opportunity.
Follow more of Sophia Whicher’s work: @sophiawhicher
